Rogue - Michele Mannon Page 0,20
buns and meat is making me hungry. What do you say, fireball? You ready for me yet?”
Ready for him? Hell, no. He’s going to be the death of me yet.
I know this is a tactic of his to throw me off track. Distract me with a hazy fog of lust that seems to kick up on a dime whenever he’s around. And, every single time, my imagination follows him off course and down the naughty path called temptation.
He reaches out and runs a thumb across my cheek. I’m seconds away from raising my chin, arching my spine, and preening like a cat who loves being stroked. Up until I met him, I’d like to believe I was born ready. But now . . . My pulse quickens double time.
A sexy rumble comes from deep within his throat as he holds up his thumb for inspection. The pad is coated with dirt. Damn it. I immediately wipe the back of my hand across my cheek. “Don’t,” he says. “I like you dirty.”
Oh, holy hell. “Sure you do,” I mutter.
“You’re . . . you. Down-to-earth. Smart. Ballsy. Holding her own within this hard-core crew. Yeah, you’ve got a set of tits I’m dying to get my mouth on. And a fine, tight ass I’d love to leave my handprint on.” He leans over and flicks my cheek with his finger. “But don’t believe for a second that a little dirt is going to stop me.”
God, and in less than five minutes, I’m going to be throwing knives at this man? I knew the second I ruined my Bon Jovi T-shirt a month ago bad luck was coming. Reality check: “wanted dead or alive” is just a turn of phrase, folks. If Jaxson thinks he’ll come out unscathed from this . . . “Be serious for just a second. The point is I’m not holding my own. Why did you have to go and negotiate with Hayden on my behalf?”
“The key to being a good fighter is knowing your own limits. Do you honestly believe you’d survive round two in the ring with any one of these guys? Wake up, sweetheart. Half of the men here are killers. Former cons. Street punks. Soldiers who’ve seen action. Trained mercenaries used to blood on their hands. You’re clever and you’ve got gumption. But until you’ve been trained properly in all forms of weaponry, it’s best if you stay out of the battle ring.”
Jesus, I can’t believe Hayden agreed to this.
“Earth to Jaxson. I’m. Not. Trained. With. Knives. How is this any better, you getting hurt instead of me?” I demand.
He runs his hand across his jaw, his action taking his casual don’t-give-a-fuck smirk away with it. “It just is,” he replies softly.
“But heads up . . .” I continue, ignoring the funny feeling his words stir up inside of me as I try to put the threat back in threatening, “. . . call me sweetheart again and I’ll gladly put a knife between your eyes. Understand?”
My glare doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Sure thing, fireball.”
I shake my head, exasperated. “I’m going to go talk to Hayden and tell him to forget your offer.”
He grabs my elbow before I can walk way. “Don’t.”
Exasperated, I tap my temple. “You insane in the membrane?”
“I’ll ask you the same question. Why’d you pick Francis to be on our team?”
To my dismay, Hayden chose me, aka “the bitch who caused the shits”, to be one of five team leaders, with the challenging responsibility of selecting men for her team and convincing them to follow her. For my team, I’ve picked Jaxson—yeah, surprise, surprise—along with Declan the Conversationalist, Diego the dark-haired stud, and . . . Francis, a.k.a. Worm. Yep, the first three are a no-brainer. Highly skilled, seasoned men who evidently have been through Hell Camp before. I’m starting to wonder if these three extremely capable men were part of the team that’d failed Hayden, which in an ironic twist of fate is the reason why he recruited me.
Clearly, Diego and Declan hate failure. Having won their matches, our team lost points an hour ago after Francis got cut up pretty badly inside the ring. Diego’s likely still cursing a blue streak. Declan favored me with a thanks-for-choosing-that-bleeding-worm kill-stare, then stalked off without a word. And while I was processing it all, horrified at the violence and frantically trying to help Francis tend to the cuts covering his arms, neck, and legs, unbeknownst to me, Jaxson strolled over to Hayden