“I’m sure, in time, you would have considered it.”

She glared at him. “Why don’t you just go home, or go find your little blond piece of fluff and leave me alone?”

“That’s no longer an option.” His voice hardened. “The blond fluff, that is. I’ve developed a taste for you, Janey. And I want more.”

Janey felt as though her head were spinning. He couldn’t be serious. She stared up at him. He was over six feet, broad, so muscular he made her mouth water. Powerful. And large in every way.

This wasn’t a nice, steady, unassuming man. This was Alex. Bold. Larger than life. A warrior who knew who and what he was and how to use that perfect body of his. In a variety of ways.

“What if I don’t want more?”

Oh yeah, she saw that one happening. She was going to be fantasizing about that damned kiss for the rest of her natural life.

He almost smirked. That little tug at his kiss-swollen lips clenched her stomach.

“You want more right now,” he told her, his gaze flickering over her. “Don’t bother lying about it either.

Your nipples are still pointed hard beneath your shirt and your face is still flushed. I’m not some kid you can lie to, Janey. I know your pussy is hot and probably so damned wet I could drown in it.” His voice turned to a growl; his lashes lowered. “I want to drown in it. I want to run my tongue through all those hot juices and eat you until you’re screaming for more.”

Oh God. Her knees were weak. Her legs were going to collapse right beneath her and leave her a puddle on the floor moaning just for that.

“Then maybe I need someone younger,” she bit out. “Maybe I don’t like where all that knowledge of yours came from.”

He grinned. It wasn’t an amused grin either. It was knowing.

“You’ve been touched by a man now, Janey. A kid isn’t going to still that fire inside you. You’d grown past that at seventeen and we both know it. That day at the lake, the boys rumbling around there, twittering and playing their damned games for your attention didn’t faze you. Nothing did. Until you caught me staring at you.”

She hated the fact that he was right. That somehow, something inside her had matured past the “boys”

her own age a long damned time ago. And any chance she would have had to experiment with men was snatched from her grasp with a single phone call from Dayle. A warning. She had been under his control and he didn’t let her forget it.

“Why are you doing this?” She shook her head, confused now, uncertain.

Alex was more than just a man. He was more than just physically powerful. There was a confidence, a dark edge inside him that made her wary.

She had a feeling Alex would push boundaries she’d never imagined. He’d demand more than she had to give, and sometimes she feared she had very little to give anyone.

Janey had learned early just how easily everything she cared about could be sucked right out of her life.

She didn’t think she could bear to lose anything more.

“I don’t have time for you.” She shook her head. “I don’t have the strength for you, Alex.”

“Then you better find it, Janey.” He moved, a ripple of strength, and as she watched he was crossing the room and moving to the back door. “Because I have a taste for you now. But even more, you have one for me. It won’t be that easy to forget.” He paused at the door. “And don’t make the mistake of thinking

just any man is going to fill that taste. I wouldn’t be happy.”

“Threatening violence, Alex?” Her heart thudded with sudden wariness.

He shook his head, that grin sending a surge of anger through her.

“I’d never hurt you, Janey,” he promised, his voice raspy, graveled. “But if you want a chance to navigate your own way through this, then don’t pull another man into the battle. Or I’ll keep you in my bed for a week and show you just why that won’t do.” His expression shifted, became harder, more sexual, darker. “Oh, baby, I’ll show you exactly why no other man will do.”

Her lips parted to blast him. Yell at him. Curse him. And she would have. She’d never done that in her life, but she would have, if he hadn’t slipped out the door and closed it behind him, leaving her staring at it in dumbfounded fury.

Arrogant. Conceited. Overconfident. Prick.

“Asshole,” she spat into the empty room before clamping her lips closed.

God. She never called anyone names. She never confronted anyone. She never got too close to the fire.

And what the hell was she doing now?

She lifted her hand, touched her sensitive lips, and closed her eyes against the pleasure. Then she couldn’t help herself. Her fingers trailed down her neck, over the curve of her breast, to the hard points of her nipple.

She gasped. A surge of feeling rushed from the hardened point straight to her clit and exploded in a detonation of need before she jerked her hand back.

Once, a long time ago, Janey had known how to touch herself at least. She was a woman. And she’d ached for touch, anyone’s touch, and had been too frightened to defy Dayle by accepting a lover.

So she had touched herself. Something she hadn’t done since Dayle had allowed Nadine to touch her.

She bit her lip and paced to the kitchen. She fought the memories, but they were there. The way Nadine pulled her T-shirt over her breasts, loosened her jeans. And Janey hadn’t been able to fight her.

She leaned against the table, pressing her hand over her mouth to hold back the instinctive need to be sick. She could barely tolerate touch since that, even her own. Until tonight. And tonight, nothing had filled her head but Alex’s touch.

There had never been anything more frightening in her life than being unable to move, unable to fight, forced to let that evil bitch touch her.

And Dayle had just watched.

A sob tore from her throat. He had just watched, amused, indulging his depraved sister with affectionate humor.

“I hate you!” She yelled the words, her hand jerking a kitchen chair from the table and slinging it with jerky strength across the floor.

It crashed into the wall as she pressed her fists into her stomach and fought the tears that would have fallen from her eyes.

She wasn’t crying. She hadn’t cried since the day it happened, and she wouldn’t cry now. She would be okay. By morning, she’d have her control back in place, she’d bury the hurt and the pain and force that mask on her face, and she’d do all the things Dayle had refused to allow her to do as she grew up.

Tomorrow, the restaurant was closed. She had a girls’ night out with one of the few people she had ever connected with as a friend. Drinks and snacks at the local bar. She’d never been to a bar. Music and wild men acting like fools, she was told.

The thought was terrifying, but she would do it. Because she wasn’t dead. Because there was so much she had never done, and she needed to learn how to live.

She didn’t need to learn how to want Alex Jansen, though. That was a recipe for disaster.

As she stood there, she heard a plaintive meow from outside, a demanding sound and the pad of soft little paws against the door as the monster stray tapped impatiently.

“Decide to come visit me again?” Janey called out in a shaky voice as she moved to the door and opened it to allow into the house the mangy, overgrown cat that had somehow managed to target her.

She shook her head as he moved to the food bowl in the corner of the room. As he ate, she showered, changed into loose pajamas, and returned to the living room, where the large orange male cat was curled

up on her couch.

She knew the routine. She sat down on the other side, turned on the television, and waited.

Still wary, the cat crept across the couch, watching her from slitted, narrowed eyes. Warning her not to dare to touch him. She watched the news, one arm propped on the arm of the couch, watching the animal from the corner of her eye.

He was beautiful. Scarred, ragged. The tip of one ear was missing; his nose had a thin scar through it. But his fur wasn’t matted anymore. He had cleaned himself up nice, and she had managed to secure a flea collar around his neck a week ago.

He growled as he neared her, and she ignored him, because she knew he was all bluff. If she moved her arm or shifted to him, he’d take a swipe at her, but otherwise, it was all for show.

Finally, he moved against her. Watched her. Then took a heavy paw and patted at her hand. She lifted her arm and a second later he was curled in her lap, allowing her fingers to shift through his fur as he purred against her and settled down for a nap.

He was finally fattening up. He’d been bedraggled, skinny, when he first showed up more than two months before. He’d been in one too many fights, and pride and hunger had glittered in his topaz eyes as she set out a bowl of cat food mixed with hamburger.

Now, in the past weeks, he was demanding more than just food. He was demanding affection. Nothing and no one had ever demanded affection from her. Before the cat, she had just lain on the couch until she couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer, then trudged to her cold bed.

Now she stayed here until the animal grew tired of her petting.

The cat was safe, she decided. All he wanted was the food and a few strokes over his heavy body for a while, then he was good to go.

But tonight, he didn’t go. He lay there and lay there, until Janey couldn’t hold her eyes open another moment.

“Come on, Fat Cat.” She pushed at his heavy butt. “I have to sleep.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t scratch her for her daring. He rose, stretched, and hopped off the couch, looking at her expectantly.

“Time to go have fun, huh?” She moved to the door, then paused. He wasn’t moving behind her. “Do you want out?” He blinked those yellow eyes back at her sleepily. “Last chance.” She yawned. “I’m going to bed.”

When he didn’t move, she shrugged, checked the litter box she kept on hand, then checked the security system, and moved to the bedroom.

She turned down the heavy quilt, flipped the light on low, and moved into the bed. As she pulled the quilt over her, she was surprised to feel a heavy thump at the bottom of the bed.

Lifting, she stared down at the cat as he curled at her feet, his eyes blinking back at her. Wary. Warning.

And her lips quirked as he growled at her.

“Night, Fat Cat,” she murmured, rather enjoying the warmth against her feet.

She could get used to this, she thought. Just a little bit of affection. It felt good. As she drifted off to sleep, the thought floated through her mind that she somehow knew Alex would demand so much more.

More than that kiss.

More than just a little sex.

A lot of sex.

She didn’t know if she should be frightened or excited. But as sleep took her and the dreams began to filter through her head, for once they weren’t nightmares. They were Alex. Kissing, stroking her. Alex murmuring against her flesh. Alex. Demanding.

Alex sat in his truck and watched the apartment far longer than he should have. The street had cleared of traffic, the old center of town was empty, all but deserted at this time of the night, and he was sitting there staring at a woman’s window like a lovesick fool.

Hell, how had he let himself come to this? He hadn’t even done this crap when he was a dumb-fuck teenager. And it looked like he was about to get caught.

Hell. Sheriff Mayes’s cruiser eased up behind his truck as Alex laid his head back against the seat and hit the electronic locks to release them. A second later, Zeke was sliding into the pickup, his sheriff’s hat in his hand, watching Alex with a considering expression.

“I’ve sat out here a time or two and talked to Natches, one of his cousins, or his uncle Ray. But this one is a first for you, Jansen.” He leaned back against the door. “Something I should know about?”

Alex stared up at Janey’s window. “I’m a fucking dead man.” He sighed.