bar was staring at the stage, including Trey, whose expression was pure, red-faced hatred.
Almost afraid to look, Jillian swiveled around in her seat and gasped when she saw Reseph standing behind the microphone, his bright gaze burning a hole right through her. His smile stopped her heart. And then the band started playing. No… he wasn’t… was he?
Reseph brought the mic to his lips, and George Strait’s “I Cross My Heart” suddenly became Jillian’s favorite song. Reseph… could
When he finished, the entire bar erupted in applause that only died down when Reseph moved on to Alan Jackson’s “It’s Five O’clock Somewhere.” That one brought people out on the dance floor, and they stayed for Reseph’s incredibly deep rendition of Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”
When the last note played, the bar crowd once more exploded in cheers. Jillian, too breathless to cheer, had been so mesmerized by Reseph’s performance that she didn’t remember standing up. And when Reseph’s gaze locked on to her as he leaped gracefully off the stage, she moved to meet him. The people on the dance floor parted to allow him through, his shoulders rolling, his predatory intent clear.
She held her breath as he approached, and when he was inches away, his heat searing her skin, he grabbed her around the waist, tugged her against his hard body, and bent his head to her ear.
“How was that for taking the attention away from Trey?”
“Trey who?” she breathed. “God, you were amazing up there.” She’d never in her life been the type of woman to swoon for musicians, but she’d just become a Reseph groupie. “Ride a cowboy? Baby, saddle up.”
His teeth grazed her earlobe. “Home,” he said roughly. “I need to make you mine. Now.”
She shivered at his words, at the erotic undertone. And at the sheer, raw possession. She could tell him she already was his, but she wasn’t about to ruin his fun. Or hers.
“Do you think we can make it to the house?” she said, just as roughly. “My truck has a big cab, you know.”
She swore flames flared in his eyes, but were quickly doused. “Another time. I’m going to do this right.”
Okay, then. She wasted no time grabbing her jacket and paying the tab. Reseph waited by the door, but his eyes never left her, and as she walked toward him, his gaze grew more heated with every step. For fun, she slowed down as she neared him, and even from several feet away and with the music blaring, she heard his impatient growl.
Sweat bloomed on her skin and her blood raced through her veins, and that was enough teasing. She had never been more ready for bed in her life. When she reached him, he very carefully pushed her against the wall and kissed her, a punishing, sensual kiss that probably didn’t last longer than five seconds, but that left her dizzy, needy, and so on fire that the ten-degree night air didn’t feel nearly cold enough when they stepped out in it.
And seriously, why did she park so far away?
She glanced up at Reseph as he walked beside her, which was a huge mistake. The way he was looking at her made her want to drop into the snow and let him have his way with her right there in the parking lot.
“Hey, dickhead!”
Jillian groaned at Trey’s shout, and as they turned around, Trey and five of his lackeys formed a semicircle around them.
“You showoff punk,” Trey said. “You think you can come into my town and make me look like an ass?”
“You don’t need me to do that,” Reseph drawled. “You’re doing a bang-up job of it all on your own.”
Trey’s face mottled with rage. “I’m going to fuck you up, Amnesia Boy. Maybe
“Look, man.” Reseph’s voice was calm, his grip on Jillian’s hand firm but gentle. “You want to back off. You and your buddies need to turn around and go back inside. You can tell everyone you beat me up and I ran away crying. I won’t say any different. But trust me on this one… you
“What a pussy.” Trey’s friend, whose name she thought was Darren, laughed. “Pussy wants to run off with his tail between his legs.”
“Shut up, Darren.” Jillian tugged on Reseph’s hand, hoping to get the hell out of there before things deteriorated. She didn’t doubt Reseph’s ability to fight, not after what she’d seen him do to the demon in her barn, but they were badly outnumbered. “Let’s go.”
Trey and two of his buddies moved to block them. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Last chance,” Reseph said. “Go back inside the bar.”
“Fuck you.”
Reseph sighed. “Okay, then.” He shoved Jillian behind him. “Get back.”
“But—”
“Get. Back.” Deadly menace all but leaked from his pores, and suddenly, she revised her earlier thought. Reseph wasn’t outnumbered. Trey and his buddies were.
“Reseph…”
He looked at her from over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “You need to stay out of their reach, because if one of them touches you, I’ll kill him.”
Jesus. He was serious. The way he’d said it, as if he was going to take out the garbage on just another ho- hum night… just,
He swung back around to the idiots just in time for Darren to throw a punch.
It never landed. Reseph blocked Darren’s swing and took the other man down with a powerful right hook before spinning around to nail Trey in the gut with a kick that sent the jerk airborne. Trey slammed into his own pickup’s tailgate. Before he even hit the ground, Reseph put two more of Trey’s friends on their backs, one with a clearly broken arm.
A big red-headed guy rushed Reseph. Almost as if Reseph were bored, he jammed the heel of his hand into Red’s face, breaking his nose with an audible crunch. Blood sprayed as Red shouted in pain and lurched toward the bar’s back door.
The remaining guy backed off, hands up.
Dear Lord, Reseph had taken out five men and he wasn’t even breathing hard. The guys on the ground scrambled awkwardly out of his way as he strode over to Trey, who was holding his ribs and struggling to get to his feet. Reseph grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground as if Trey weighed no more than a jug of milk. With a nasty snarl Jillian could only describe as inhuman, Reseph rammed Trey into the driver’s side door, the impact crumpling the metal.
“I warned you,” Reseph said, his voice so bereft of emotion she shivered. “And now I’m warning you again. You fuck with me or Jillian, you so much as look at either of us with anything less than respect—nah, let’s go with awe—and I’ll dismantle you. If you survive, I promise you’ll spend the rest of your life pissing yourself every time you hear Jillian’s name. You feel me?”
At Trey’s frenzied nod, Reseph grinned coldly and looked down. “Looks like you got a head start on the pissing thing.” He dropped Trey and wheeled around to Jillian. “You ready to go?”
All she could do was bob her head in answer as Trey and his buddies limped and shuffled their way back inside the bar.
Reseph took her hand and guided her toward the truck. “You okay?”
Aside from adrenaline scouring her veins like Drano, yes, she was. A huge sense of relief was tripping through her. Something told her that Reseph had held back with those guys. A lot. He’d been level-headed, efficient, and restrained.
It had been kind of… hot.
“I’m fine.” She twined her fingers in his. “And you?”
“I’m on fire.” He jerked her to a halt just shy of the truck and tugged her against him. Even in the shadows of the parking lot, his eyes glowed with a primitive, elemental need that called to a part of her she didn’t understand. All she knew was that her body felt both electrically charged and pliant as rubber, and liquid desire bloomed between her thighs. “I can’t explain it, but I need to be inside you more than ever.”
Her breath stuttered. “Yes,” she whispered.
Normally, now would be when Reseph gave her one of those cocky grins, but not this time. This time he was a single-minded predator, locked on target, and she was in his crosshairs. God, she loved this side of him. She never in a million years thought she’d be the type of woman to like the caveman type, but Reseph managed to not overwhelm. If anything, she couldn’t wait to feel him unleash his inner Neanderthal on her.
