Chapter 1
Sydney, Australia
It was time RG kicked Ruckus out of her bed.
He'd been in it eight times in the last two months. That was seven more times than her One-and-Done rule about men in her bed allowed. Four of those times he'd actually slept in it, as well as making her come so often and so masterfully she'd forgotten for a moment who she was.
Forgetting who she was due to mind-shattering pleasure was one thing. Heck, even waking up to his hard, sinewy, tattooed body beside her was one thing. Both of those things were all very well and good (really good, to be honest. Ruckus was the best lay of her life), but mind-shattering pleasure and a hard, sinewy, tattooed body spooning her didn't make up for the snoring.
Damn, did Ruckus know how to snore.
Raking her hands through her hair, RG watched the security surveillance expert's chest rise and fall as the buzzing sound tore from the back of his throat.
Deciding it was now or never, she reached over and pinched his nostrils shut.
A split second of silence filled her bedroom, followed by a grunting cough as Ruckus spluttered awake.
RG grinned at him, resting her elbows on her bent knees. "Time for you to fuck off, Ruckus."
He squinted at her, scratched his belly, yawned, and then sat up. "Okay." He swung his long, lean legs over the side of the bed and straightened.
She made a half-hearted attempt to not check out the sublime perfection of his naked arse as he plodded away from the bed towards the bathroom.
He really was the hottest fucking bastard she'd ever laid eyes on. Unorthodox, a little wild, more than a little crazy, a tad enigmatic (okay, tad was an understatement), ridiculously intelligent, and partial to scary-looking tattoos inked into his smooth brown flesh with exquisite skill by his equally enigmatic cousin, Lincoln.
Everything she wanted in a guy, really.
He disappeared into her bathroom. A few seconds later came the sound of him evacuating his bladder.
RG rolled her eyes. "Y'know, you could close the door when you do that."
He didn't answer. Not straight away. In fact, it was a few minutes after the sound of the loo flushing and the bathroom tap running that he poked his head around the bathroom door and looked at her, a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, white foam slicking his lips.
"Y'know," he pulled the toothbrush free of his mouth and pointed it at her like a finger, "the only reason you're kicking me out is because you've just realized you've fallen in love with me and it's scaring the shit out of you."
RG blinked.
He shoved the toothbrush back into his mouth, gave her a look she had no hope of interpreting, and disappeared back into the bathroom.
She blinked again.
In her chest, her heart began an attempt to mimic a semi-automatic machine gun with the trigger duct-taped to the "pulled" position.
Love?
Her? In love? With Ruckus?
Ruckus? She'd only known him for a few months, six at the most. She didn't even know his last name. Sure, she'd been sleeping with him for the last two months, and whoa baby, how incredible was that? But still? How could she possibly be in love with him?
Because he's unorthodox, a little wild, more than a little crazy, a tad enigmatic, ridiculously intelligent, and partial to scary-looking tattoos?
True. All true. Plus he was the most incredible lover she'd ever had. And he cooked Thai food better than any Thai restaurant she'd eaten in. Both here in Australia and in Thailand.
And she'd broken her One-and-Done rule with him. That said a lot.
Well, fuck.
"No." Shaking her head, she scrambled off the bed. Damn near threw herself off it with such frantic force her hand missed the mattress.
She tumbled over its edge, her shoulder thumping the mattress, followed by her boobs and then her hip as she fell forward. The cascade effect took hold and, no matter how much she flailed-for grip and dignity-she fell face first towards the floor.
She hit it with a thud, dull pain blooming in her elbow and cheek even as Ruckus's accusation taunted her.
In love with me.
She scrambled to her feet, heart wild, and looked at the open bathroom door.
"No." She stomped across her bedroom. "No, I'm not in love with-"
Oh boy.
He stood naked, leaning against the bathroom sink, ankles crossed, hands perched on the edge of the sink beside his butt, a dark eyebrow arched, his lips twitching. "Did that hurt?"
Damn it, why the hell were his eyes so icy blue and intense? It was hard to be indignant when his eyes were so exquisite. She rubbed at her elbow, scowling. "No."
He smiled. "Okay."
She checked him out. She couldn't help it.
One of the reasons for her One-and-Done rule with men stemmed from the fact that after bonking them, she was instantly bored by them. Ruckus was never, ever boring. Okay, some of her previous sexual partners technically had better bodies than him, and some had been quite adventurous in their efforts to please her, but the moment the deed was done, those bodies, that effort failed to keep her attention.
Ruckus, however …
Crossing her arms over her breasts, she narrowed her eyes at him. Her inner arms rubbed against her nipples, and for a second, the memory of him sucking and biting them with hungry dominance overwhelmed her. A hot place in the junction of her thighs grew warmer. Her belly fluttered.
Oh man, she'd jump his bones right now if he wasn't spouting such rubbish. Love? Huh. No way.
"Why do you think I'm in love with you?"
He chortled, a word she'd never used to describe anyone else's laugh but his. Other people in her world laughed, chuckled, guffawed, giggled, but Ruckus chortled: a sound part laugh, part snicker, part ambiguous vocalization of what he thought of the situation.
Like the rest of him, it was as sexy as all hell.
Well, apart from the snoring. That wasn't sexy.
"You told me so," he answered, watching her.
His morning hard-on was as impressive as it had been when she'd woken beside him less than half an hour ago. Maybe even more impressive; long and thick with just the right amount of veins ridging its length, its head a deliciously fleshy dome that felt so good sliding into her-
Wait, what? She'd told him what?
She snapped her focus up to his face. "I did what?"
"You told me you loved me last night." He pushed off the edge of the sink to turn and face the mirror hanging on the wall above it. His gaze caught hers in the reflection for a heartbeat before he looked at himself in the glass and smoothed his hand over his shaved-bald head.
"When?"
He chortled again, checking out the dark stubble on his jaw, his chin, with a scrape of his fingers. "Just before you killed me with the Soul-shearing Sword."
"In Hell's Harbour?" RG narrowed her eyes. Okay, not what she thought he'd been talking about. Now, if only her heart would slow down a bit. "If that's what you're talking about, I'm pretty certain I said fuck you."
He shrugged, dropped his hand from his jaw, and turned back to her. "Same thing, really."
"Shit, you scared me for a moment." She slumped and rubbed a shaking hand over her stomach. "I thought you were serious."
Mesmerizing blue eyes regarded her for a beat, unreadable, indecipherable, and then he grinned. "Yeah, imagine how horrible being in love with each other would be."
RG rolled her eyes and shuddered, ramping up the melodramatic terror. "I know."
He straightened away from the basin. "And on that high note, I have to get to work and so do you. Don't you have a meeting of some sort this morning?"
RG jerked her stare to the watch on her wrist. "Shit." She spun on her heel and sprinted for her wardrobe. "Shit shit shit."
She was going to be late. Though it didn't really matter if she was. The CEO of Virt.Real Distributors, Brannum West, would wait for her. Her online game, Hell's Harbour 2, was going to make his company very, very rich, after all, but she hated being late. It was a sign of bad character.
Yanking open her wardrobe, she searched frantically for something appropriate to wear to the introductory meeting with West. Something kick-arse and professional all at once.
Her Han Shot First T-shirt? Her Gandalf and Dumbledore Make Magic Together T-shirt? Her dragonscale Handbag of Holding?
Warm lips pressed to her temple, just as an equally warm hand cupped her naked butt and squeezed. "Have fun today," Ruckus murmured before capturing the side of her throat with his lips and giving her a rough, sucking kiss there. "See you later."
He left before she could correct him. Later was not going to happen. His unprecedented dream-run in her bed was finished. Over.
Really?
"Really," she muttered, tugging a T-shirt (I Am Groot) over her head. Breaking Ruckus's heart made her ill, but it was time. Besides, who said his heart was going to get broken? They'd never agreed to any kind of … of … relationship, after all. Just wild sex, fun, and games. And wild sex. Lots of wild, amazing, incredible …
"Enough, woman!"
Ten minutes later, morning hygiene and cleaning routine taken care of, and with her tie-bleached Levi's hugging her legs and butt, her knee-high purple Doc Martens laced tight, and her emerald-green, fake-dragonskin messenger bag slung over her shoulder, she hurried from her bedroom.