“And who says I’m your woman?” she snarled back at him as they moved through the private door and took the turn to the stairs and her apartment above. “I don’t remember giving you permission to go Neanderthal on me.”

“Sure you did,” he drawled as they reached the landing and he tested the doorknob.

Son of a bitch, she’d left the door unlocked again. He turned and stared down at her.

“What did I tell you about locking your door up here?”

“Excuse me, Zeke, but I was unaware I’d be spending the night elsewhere,” she snapped.

He shook his head at the apparent lack of judgment she had used.

Rogue wanted to smack the condescension from his face. She would have to get her wrist back first. She tugged at it again as he pushed the door open slowly and checked out the living area of the large apartment.

Hell, he should have brought his weapon with him.

“You are being so overprotective, Zeke. Have I mentioned how much I hate being protected?”

Rogue watched as Zeke moved away from her. She crossed her arms over her breasts as she glared at him hatefully.

How dare he start a fight with her bartender, over her? It was her fight; she didn’t need his big male fists taking care of her business for her.

“I don’t care how much you hate it,” he stated as he moved through the living and kitchen area and entered her bedroom.

“You don’t care how much I hate it?” She gaped at his back as it disappeared through the doorway before she moved quickly to catch up with him. “What the hell are you doing searching my apartment, and what do you mean, you don’t care how much I hate it?”

He paused as he stepped out of the bathroom and stared back at her with those predatory, determined eyes of his. That look, so dominant and forceful, should have had her rage hitting to peak rather than sparking memories of the time they had spent in his bed throughout the night and the forceful sexuality he had displayed.

“I mean, it’s too damned late to jump out of the game.” His voice was forceful, dark. “I warned you, you were getting into something you might not be able to handle, Rogue.

Now you’ll just have to learn how to deal with it. What Jonesy did was out of line and you refused to fire him, so I took care of it.”

“By beating him half to death? By letting him beat on you?”

Blood marred his chin and jaw, his shirt was torn, and he was going to have a black eye.

Rogue had had to curl her fingers into fists when she had first seen the damage. They had stayed curled, waiting on an opportunity to add her own bruise to his hard, stubborn expression.

His lip was swelling and she was betting his ribs were already bruising. Not that he looked or acted as though he had so much as a scratch. His shoulders were straight and arrogance was stamped thick and clear on his expression.

“It’s a male thing.” He shrugged.

“It’s a male thing? A male thing?” Incredulity filled her as she stared back at him. “You went completely Neanderthal because it was a male thing?”

“You wouldn’t take care of the situation and fire his ass, thereby eliminating the risk of him further abusing you, so I took care of it.”

“You took care of it?” She blinked back at him. She couldn’t believe the utter audacity it took for him to say such a thing. “Is this how you take care of domestic squabbles, too, Zeke? Just beat the hell out of any man that doesn’t do as you think he should?”

“I’m on duty then.” His smile was tight. “I wasn’t on duty this morning. What’s more, the fact that you’re my woman changes those rules. I took care of what’s mine.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “You’ve lost your mind.”

She stared back at him, amazed, bemused as he stalked slowly toward her. There was something about the move and shift of his body now. An aura of sex and danger that seemed to fill the room and surround her as she backed away from him. “You did not buy me. You don’t own me. You are a crazy man.”

He smiled, a slow arrogant curl of his lips. “I bet your panties are wet, Rogue. I bet you’re so damned turned on right now that a good hard breath would get you off.”

He was so right.

“You’ve lost your mind,” she accused him as her back met the wall.

“Your pussy is hot and wet,” he growled. “Come on, Rogue, tell me it’s not.”

She shook her head, wishing she could ignore the weakness in her knees, the tingling between her thighs.

“You’re bloody, bruised, and arrogant,” she snapped back. “That is not a turn-on, Zeke.”

“Liar.” Black velvet and sex, his voice was rasping, primal. It sent a heat wave crashing through her body.

Rogue swallowed tightly. The wall was at her back; Zeke was a wall barely pressing against her breasts. Her nipples hardened, sensitized as his chest brushed against her, stimulating them further as his hands braced against the wall, bracketing her in.

“What is your problem?” She wished her voice didn’t sound so weak. She wished she kept the anger burning rather than the arousal, but it was the arousal, the hunger, spurred by the complete dominance he was displaying, that took precedence.

“My problem?” His eyes narrowed, dark brown lashes shielding his thoughts, his emotions as he moved one hand from the wall beside her and brushed his knuckles down the exposed line of her throat. “My problem is a hard-on that only you can satisfy.

My problem is the fact that I tried, Rogue, to stay away from you. I tried to warn you that you were dealing with something you might not be prepared to handle. But did you listen?” He brushed a whispery kiss beside her lips and nearly stole her breath with the caress.

What the hell was wrong with her? She would have slammed her knee into the balls of any other man who dared to attempt to dominate her. She didn’t consider herself submissive, but right now, she felt so feminine, so much weaker than Zeke, and yet so much a part of him, that she didn’t know what else to call it.

Were women somehow programmed to at least sexual submission? Was it a part of their genetic makeup, the need to be conquered sexually, to be protected?

“This is crazy,” she gasped as his lips slid from the corner of hers and moved to her jawline.

Her head rested back against the wall and tilted to the side to expose the sensitive underside of her jaw. Weakening pleasure flowed through her body. It thundered in her veins, raced over her nerve endings, then centered in her pussy where it turned into a blazing ache.

“This is because of your wife,” she breathed out roughly. “You lost her. You think you have to protect me. I won’t have it.”

“This isn’t about anyone but you.” He nipped her jawline. “Just me and you, Rogue.”

She shook her head desperately as his lips slid along her neck, spreading fire along her flesh as she fought to find the strength to tear away from him.

“You gave yourself to me.” His teeth raked over her collarbone.

“My body,” she protested.

“Your heart.” His voice rumbled as he forged a path to the valley of her breasts, brushing aside the cotton material of the shirt, and lifted one hand to palm a swollen mound of her breast.

Sensation was building inside her again. She had just had him, no more than a few hours ago, yet her body was weakening, softening, needing him.

And he was right, she had given him her heart.

“I didn’t give you my freedom,” she panted, trying to find some fragile threat of independence. Surely there was some lingering shred of independence inside her somewhere?

His head lifted as he gripped the sides of the shirt and tore it apart. Buttons were scattering as his lips stole hers in a kiss that she was certain fried any ability she could have had to speak, let alone think.

His tongue delved between her lips, tangled with hers, and the taste of him went to her head with the same force as a narcotic. He was inside her, so much a part of her that she didn’t know how to fight him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she gave in to the kiss. A part of her knew he was right. Jonesy had a temper that she had always pampered and had to watch out for. He only really respected men willing to put up their fists.

It grated on her pride. But pride was a weak ideal when Zeke seemed to wrap around her. When he was kissing her as though he were drowning in her. Despite the split lip and the bruises she knew must be marring his body, still his lips slanted over hers as his broad hands cupped her rear and lifted her to him.

“Tell me you belong to me.” He nipped her lips, then licked the heat of the rough caress away. “Now, Rogue. Tell me you’re mine.”

She shook her head as his head lifted and he stared down at her with predatory intent.

“But you are.” His lips slid to her ear. “Mine to hold, to protect.”

But was she his to love? The thought whispered through her mind, then evaporated as he turned her, his hands smoothing up her arms and flattening her palms against the wall.

“Zeke.”

“It’s okay, baby.” Her hair was swept to the side, his lips tasting her neck, spreading heated kisses along the sensitive column as his hands cupped her breasts.

He palmed the sensitive mounds; his fingers rubbed over her nipples before he encased them in two fingers, working them gently. Waves of incredible pleasure began washing through her. Rogue tipped her head back against his chest, a moan parting her lips.

“You burn me alive,” he whispered against her ear as he moved one hand from her breasts.

She could feel him behind her, working his jeans loose, releasing the heavy length of his erection, and she whimpered in longing.

“I have a bed,” she panted, though the thought of moving at the moment wasn’t high on her list of priorities.

“Who needs a bed? Fuck, Rogue, I don’t think I can wait that long.”

She felt his knees dip as his arm slid around her hips, lifting her and holding her in place as he pressed her legs apart with his foot.

“Damn, gotta love those high heels,” he groaned as she felt the head of his cock press against her, hot and iron hard.

Dizzying weakness flooded her, pleasure overcame any objections she could have even thought to have as she felt the slow, stretching impalement of her pussy. A strangled cry left her throat, heat flushed her, inside and out.

It was a damned good thing he was holding her, because she would have melted to the floor otherwise. Violent pleasure tore through her as his erection worked inside her.

Slow, torturously so as her slick juices flowed around him.

“I can’t stand it,” she panted. Because it was too good. Because there was something about this position, about having him behind her, controlling her responses, her movements, that made her feel more fragile, more feminine than ever before.

“Should I stop, Rogue?” He paused, buried to the hilt inside her now, throbbing and thick, filling her and stealing her senses with a pleasure she couldn’t fight. “Tell me to stop, Rogue, and I will.”

Her fingers curled into fists against the wall as she felt perspiration gathering along her body. Her skirt was pushed to her hips, his shirt slid over her shoulders and hung at the bend of her arms. It was decadent, wicked. The position, her half-clothed state, and the feel of him inside her added to the sensations rioting through her.

How could she ever live without him now? How could she survive without the feel of him taking her, possessing her?

“Don’t stop.” Her lashes drifted closed as she allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. “Please, Zeke. Don’t stop.”

He moved. A slow, gliding retreat, then a hard, fierce thrust that had her back arching and a strangling cry falling from her lips.

He gripped her hips with both hands now, holding her in place, holding her up as he began fucking her with hard, even strokes.