Free Rogue's Pawn by Jeffe Kennedy Page A

can’t be stubborn.
    “We don’t measure time like that. Things start when they start. Time, however, can be wasted. Just like this. They’re waiting. We have to go.”
    “I want to know at least some basics. We can be five minutes late, or five parsecs or half an inch of melted wax or whatever the hell. I’m calling your bluff—I think you want me there for some reason, so unless you intend to carry me in kicking and screaming, answer a few questions and I’ll go.”
    Rogue started to run one hand through his hair, then apparently remembered it was tied back, so laid his hand against the left side of his face, elbow propped on his fist.
    Trust me .
    “Why should I? I have no idea what your agenda is. You yourself told me you aren’t my friend—right there I’d say that was a fine reason not to.”
    “Not to what?” He cocked his head to the side as if trying to hear a faint sound.
    “Trust you.”
    “You heard that.”
    “I’m working at being quieter—you said I’d hear you if I did.”
    He looked uneasy, glancing away from me for the first time, ostensibly observing the fire. It occurred to me that he hadn’t meant me to hear that, which meant what? It was some kind of suggestion, maybe. While he pondered his next move, I lined up my questions, keeping a close eye on him. Rogue really was rather staggeringly gorgeous. His hair was more loosely tied back, caught at the back of his neck in a jeweled band that matched the knife sheath. Something about that lean body made me want to curl up in his arms, let him take care of me…
    What had I been thinking about?
    I frowned, swirling my thoughts and feelings around, like stirring a pan of milk to bring up the little burned bits. A couple of bits that didn’t seem to be mine floated up—I dissolved them as I popped that amber thought bubble. I was kind of getting the knack of this.
    Rogue had walked up to me while I was sorting my thoughts and now stood just before me so I had to tilt my head back to look at him.
    Too close. If I leaned in a bit, I could lay my body against him. His eyes burned and I felt an answering heat. My nipples peaked against the restraining cloth. A hot shiver ran through me as his gaze dropped to my lips. My heart thumped.
    I reveled in that moment, that breathless anticipation where you wondered, hoped, wished, that this beautiful man would lower his head to kiss you.
    His breath fluttered against my lips. Cinnamon and sandalwood swirled through my head.
    I held my breath, waiting for that first taste of him, waiting for the passion that pressed against the corseting materials to surge over me. I wanted the feel of it.
    Wanted him on me and in me. Wanted what he wanted. Wanted him more than anything.
    Whoa, since when?
    I stepped back quickly. “Are you fucking with my mind?”
    Irritation flashed across his face before it fell back into seductive lines.
    I found myself shaking my head. “No, no, no—I may be a babe in the woods here, but I know myself at least. And you just wasted the five minutes I asked for.”
    Rogue cursed—I didn’t quite catch the meaning, except that it sounded pissed and seemed to have something to do with a cow, which sure as hell had better not be me. Then he started pacing the room, filling the silence with rhythmic boot steps.
    Ah, here was the Rogue we knew.
    I felt obscurely comforted. My body still seethed and pulsed, but that was all me. As was the bruised disappointment at missing out on the kiss. Probably my only opportunity. I had a habit of blowing the moment. Me and my smart mouth. Still, I felt I’d won a small battle, gained a bit of ground. Go me.
    At least I had the sense to know that Rogue didn’t really want me. Rogue would probably take what I offered, just as any man would, really, given the opportunity. But what would I be left with once he’d taken it?
    It was a mystery to me, what made a man stick around once he’d gotten laid. Maybe the chance to have more at first. Maybe