He watched as the Nauti Buoy pulled into her berth, fifty feet and gleaming beneath the summer moon, her lights giving the craft a soft, romantic look. How he had dreamed of having such a craft, a place he could use to hide, to take his good girls and fulfill the promises he made to them.
He thought he had chosen so wisely. His perfect girls, pure in heart and in nature, and they loved him. He was their love, but it had taken so long to find the one he wanted for all time. The perfect good girl. So sweet-natured and pure, never dirtying herself or her good name. Despite the brother.
His fists clenched at the thought of the brother. He was depraved, perverted, and he was going to dirty her. Rowdy Mackay was going to shame Kelly, and he knew it. He had seen them today, in the store, his hands on her, his eyes raking over her as though he owned her.
Rowdy Mackay didn’t own her. She belonged to the man who loved her, who respected her. And she was going to love him. Just like the others did. They hadn’t loved anyone else either. He watched them sometimes, making certain they didn’t allow anyone else to touch what belonged to him. Sometimes he called them, reminded them of who they were waiting for. They had promised to wait on him to find his one true love.
Kelly could be his true love. He thought it was possible. Until Rowdy came home.
The Nauti Boys. They were depraved. Perverts. But they had never fooled with the good girls. They left the perfect ones alone, always preferring the tramps, the little whores willing to spread their legs not just for one of them, but sometimes for all three at once. They shared their women all the time, watching and listening to their nasty screams as they begged for more.
His fists clenched, his gut rolling in sick suspicion. Rowdy had taken Kelly away on the houseboat. He had never done that by himself before. In the past, it had always been with her and her friends, never alone.
He shook at the fear that the bastard had dirtied her. He couldn’t let that happen. Kelly was sweet and clean, she had never been dirtied by another man’s seed, by another’s possession of her.
She had screamed for him when he touched her, though. He hadn’t had time to hear her beg for him, or to hear her promise to remain true to him. No sooner had he attempted to possess her than that big dumb hick visiting his whore girlfriend had started yelling outside the door. He couldn’t get caught. His sweet Kelly couldn’t be seen with a man in her bed. It would ruin her reputation and she wouldn’t be clean anymore. Her reputation meant everything.
Bastard Rowdy. Rowdy Mackay thought he was perfect, thought all the girls were his. He was going to hurt sweet Kelly, his sister. She was his sister, he had no business touching her. Sisters shouldn’t be touched, his father had warned him of that.
His eyes narrowed as Kelly moved from the boat and jumped onto the narrow floating dock. She was angry. He could see it in her face, in the stiff set of her body beneath the bright lights of the dock.
She said something as Rowdy locked the doors, causing the man to stiffen, to turn to her slowly. He didn’t like the smile Rowdy gave her. It was carnal. Dirty.
He watched as she stalked ahead of the other man, her loose clothing demure, hiding the body that belonged to him alone. How perfect she was. His good girl. He had to finish his claim on her. He had to make certain she belonged to him. Not Rowdy. Never Rowdy and his perverted friends.
He watched as Rowdy walked her to her car. He was too close to her, even though she was angry. Rowdy was standing too close. He was crowding her.
She unlocked the door and opened it, then Rowdy touched her. Don’t touch her. He clenched his fists, sniffing miserably, fighting the tears that fell from his eyes. Rowdy shouldn’t be touching her.
But he was. The depraved bastard was touching her hair, her cheek, smiling down at her. Rage shattered in his head, filling his vision with a red haze as he watched another move from the shadows of the dock. Dawg. The bastard couldn’t even use his real name—he used the nickname of the animal he was.
Kelly started as the other men called out to them, flashed Rowdy a furious look, then got into her car. The car door closed and within seconds she was pulling from the parking lot. She was going home. But she wouldn’t be going alone. Rowdy would go as well. He lived in the house with her. His bedroom would be close to hers, he could hear her, smell her, maybe touch her as she slept.
Oh God, don’t let him touch her, he prayed. Don’t let him dirty the good girl. She was his good girl. And, she just might be his perfect love.
Kelly forcibly restrained the anger pounding through her bloodstream as she stepped into the house with Rowdy close behind her.
“It’s about time you two found your way home.” Ray and Maria stepped into the entryway.
Kelly breathed in deeply before turning to them, pasting a smile on her face as she met their concerned gazes.
“Rowdy has a habit of poking along on the way back from the docks.” She kept her voice flat and even. “You know how he is.”
They weren’t convinced.
“She’s a lousy liar, isn’t she?” Rowdy drawled, his deep baritone still sending shivers up her spine despite her anger.
She glanced over at him. His thumbs were hooked in the pockets of his jeans, long legs stiff and straight as he smiled in open amusement back at their parents. She drew in a deep, hard breath.
“I’m going up to bed.” She smiled stiffly. “Rowdy can be a butt by himself. I don’t feel like dealing with it.”
She raced up the stairs, fearing Rowdy would follow her, grateful he didn’t. She slammed the door to her bedroom, twisting the lock on the handle before she stomped to her window and jerked the heavy curtains closed.
“Beg me for it,” he panted at her ear, holding her down. “You’re my good girl, Kelly. You’re mine, it’s okay to let me in. Let me in…”
She shook her head at the intrusive memory. She had managed to hold back the fear while she was with Rowdy, but now that she was alone, it was sneaking in, attacking her. The feeling of being watched was overwhelming, her skin crawling as her stomach churned with panic.
She had, as Rowdy had argued, essentially been the one who got away. She had escaped the full rape, suffering only some cuts made to weaken her, and a terror that still brought her awake with a cry on her lips.
She didn’t wear the clothes she used to because the marks were still there. Shorts and tank tops might reveal the nearly imperceptible white scars that still marred her arms, shoulders, and legs. Nakedness would reveal the ones on her buttocks. Deeper slices had been made there as he held her down, cutting her panties from her.
Her mother swore they weren’t noticeable. But to Kelly, they were.
She still remembered the feel of that knife biting into her, razor-sharp, the skin parting as cold pain streaked through her nervous system, and the feel of hot blood as it began to pour from the wounds. The doctor had assured her that within a few years they would be gone entirely. She wondered if the memories would fade as well.
She paced through the dark room to the wide recliner that sat on the far wall, beneath the standing lamp she used to read by. Collapsing into it, she propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head in her hands. She didn’t need Rowdy’s arguments earlier to understand that she wasn’t out of danger. She knew she wasn’t, just as she knew that it was only a matter of time before her attacker made his next move.
She felt stalked. There was no proof, nothing but her own suspicions and her own fears. Shaking her head, she moved to her dresser. She pulled free one of the long sleeveless gowns she slept in and headed for the shower. A cold shower maybe, she thought as she adjusted the water. If she didn’t get the memory of his kiss, his teasing out of her head, she would go crazy.
But even the cool water did nothing to still the idea he had planted in her head earlier. She was furious that Rowdy would play games to draw the stalker out, but she was smart enough to realize she wasn’t safe.
She dried her hair, staring at the thin white scars on her shoulders and upper arms. There were four on one, three on the other. They showed clearly in the bright light of the bathroom, the dark blue gown emphasizing the marks.
At times she swore she could feel the ones on her buttocks.
She shook her head as she turned from the mirror, moving to the bedroom, her hand reaching out to flip off the light. She paused at the switch, her eyes narrowing on the man in her bedroom.
Rowdy had obviously showered as well. Dressed in gray sweatpants, he was propped against her pillows, waiting on her, a scowl creasing his handsome face.
“That expression freezes on your face and you’ll be terrifying little kids on the streets,” she informed him as she flipped off the light and walked into the bedroom.
“I’m not leaving you alone at night, Kelly—”
“Windows were locked and so was the door,” she informed him as she stood by the side of the bed, her arms crossed over her breasts.
“And I got in the door anyway.”
She inhaled slowly, her gaze sliding to the shadowed outline of the door as Rowdy reached over and clicked on the dim lamp on the small table beside him.
The lock was in the standing position, still locked.
“How did you do that?” She turned back to him, pretending to ignore the fact that he was mouthwateringly sexy as he lay on the flowered comforter of her bed.
“It’s a piece of cake,” he grunted. “The window locks aren’t a lot harder to release. Until I can get the contractor out here to add to the security, you’re stuck with me.”
His expression was determined, stubborn. It was easy to tell when Rowdy had made up his mind. His expression went completely bland and his sea green eyes turned as cool as the arctic.
“Fine.” She shrugged. “You sleep here and I’ll sleep in your bed. No biggie.” She moved for the door.
“Open that door, Kelly, and your mom and my dad are going to get dragged into this little disagreement we’re having. Is that really what you want?”
Damn.
She stopped halfway to the door before turning back to him.
“Whose side would they take?” She opened her eyes wide, with mocking innocence. “Now I wonder, what will they think about the little proposal you put to me earlier?”
He tilted his head, his eyes glittering with lust, with amused hunger.
“Dad would probably kick my ass out of the house,” he growled good-naturedly. “Is that what you really want?”
She turned away from him, restraining the urge to kick his butt herself. He was right. Ray would likely skin his hide if he ever learned of his son’s proposal.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected it. She had. She had looked forward to it. How was that for some sick shit? She had actually looked forward to the day Rowdy would return and make good on the promise his kiss had made years ago.
And she had known if he did, the possibility of just such a proposal would come. She had been ready for it. Prepared for it. What she hadn’t expected was the cold-blooded intention he had of using it to catch her would-be rapist. As though the act no longer had anything to do with the two of them. As though the desire, the need, and the hunger were a means to an end and nothing more. It was without feeling, without emotion. And God help her, whenever she was around Rowdy, she felt nothing but emotion. Swirls of it. Lava-hot, lightning forks of sensation that rippled over her nerve endings, rendering even the air itself a caress against her sensitive flesh.
And emotions? Oh, she didn’t even want to go there. Except she was already there. Arousal, uncertainty, fear of the unknown, and a fear of losing the dream in the face of reality.
He was asking her to choose. She had wanted to be seduced.
She turned back to him, drawing in a slow, deep breath, her head lifting as she stared at the confident, cool countenance he presented to her.
“Get out of my bedroom.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, pressing her lips together as she glared at him. “I’m not one of the Nauti Boys’ playthings. And I’m not in the mood for games. Not yours or anyone else’s.”
She watched the surprise gleam in his eyes for just a second. For the first time in all the years she had known him, she had never surprised him, until now.
With a ripple of muscle, he moved from the bed, his gaze never leaving hers as he rose, coming to his feet and walking around the bed.
He was aroused. The thick length of his erection tented his sweatpants, drew her eyes and made her mouth water. She had fantasized about that erection. About all the things a woman could do with such a prime piece of flesh.
She let her eyes linger on the proof of that arousal before lifting them to his face again. He was close. So close she could smell the clean, male scent of him. Dial soap and heated male arousal.
She stood still as he stalked around her, the movements deliberate, predatory. Suddenly he wasn’t the laid-back, patiently amused Rowdy she had always known. She could feel the purpose, the male intent that poured from him.
Her breath caught as he paused behind her, his hand reaching up to allow his fingers to smooth her hair back over her shoulder, to bare the shell of her ear.
“You’re mine.” She jumped at his whispered response. “And, baby, I do like to play.” His hands ran down her arms, creating a friction of heat as she felt his lips at her shoulders. “I guess that makes you my playmate, if not my plaything.”
Her eyes widened a second before she jerked out of his hold, turning back to him furiously.
“I don’t think so.” She gave him a tight, angry smile.
Stupid male confidence, she fumed.
He tilted his head, the beginnings of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
“I could convince you.”
No doubt.
She snorted as though it weren’t possible. Unfortunately, he probably could convince her, but at what cost to her soul?
“Go get in your own bed, Rowdy. Don’t make me cause a scene. Ray wouldn’t like it.” She walked to hers, flipping back the blankets and moving into the comfort of the mattress, ignoring him as though he didn’t matter. “Good night.”
He chuckled. “You’ve changed,” he murmured as he paced to the other side of the bed, staring down at her, aroused, determined.
“I haven’t changed at all, Rowdy.” She pulled the blankets to her waist as she sat propped against the pillows. “Perhaps you just never really knew me.” She raised her brows in emphasis. “That’s always a possibility.”
“You enjoyed waking up with me,” he accused. “You don’t want to throw me out.”
That one was a no-brainer. No, she didn’t want to throw him out. She wanted to curl against him and sleep as fearlessly as she had the night before and awaken as warm and protected as she had that morning.
She lifted her chin, refusing to answer him, fighting to hold his knowing stare as he watched her from beneath the veil of his thick, black lashes.
“Go play with someone else.” She might have to kill him if he tried. “I’m not interested in the games.”
“And you think this is a game?” He scowled down at her, his hands bracing on his powerful hips as his eyes began to simmer with irritation.
“I think it is for you,” she answered somberly. “And I’m not a game. Don’t play games with me, Rowdy. Not now, not ever.”