Rogue Nights (The Rogue Series Book 6) Read online

  Rogue Nights

  Talia Hibbert

  Annabeth Albert

  Rebecca Crowley

  Hudson Lin

  Shae Connor

  Ainsley Booth

  Robin Covington

  Seven tales of romance, hope, and passion. Even after the roughest night, dawn promises new beginnings.

  Contents

  Talia Hibbert

  Resisting Desire

  About This Book

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Thank You

  Also By Talia Hibbert

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Annabeth Albert

  Dropped Stitches

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Also By Annabeth Albert

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Rebecca Crowley

  Parking Lot Cowboy

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Thank you

  Also by Rebecca Crowley

  About the Author

  Hudson Lin

  Dare to Dream

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Thank You!

  Other Books by Hudson

  About the Author

  Shae Connor

  The Coffee Shop Around the Corner

  About This Book

  The Coffee Shop Around the Corner

  Thank You!

  Also by Shae Connor

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Ainsley Booth

  Love Your Face

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Thank You!

  Other Books by Ainsley Booth

  About the Author

  Robin Covington

  Sacred Son

  About This Book

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Dear Reader

  Also by Robin Convington

  About the Author

  Resisting Desire

  Talia Hibbert

  Activist, womanist and journalist Nina Chapman is in love with her brother’s best friend. Oops. When her attempt to seduce calm, reliable James Foster backfires, Nina’s mortified—but as much as she’d like to avoid him, she can’t. No; she literally can’t. Because Nina’s latest article has made her public enemy number one, and now the man who broke her heart just might be her only protection…

  For Diana, reluctantly.

  Prologue

  “We shouldn’t have done that.”

  Nina wanted to tell herself that she’d misheard. That James Foster, her brother’s best friend and her actual dream guy, hadn’t just said those words thirty seconds after making her come on his sofa. But he was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his massive shoulders slumped and his shaven head bowed—which was universal body language for Wow, I have so many regrets right now.

  So, she definitely hadn’t misheard. Shit.

  Her heart dropped, hit the floor, and cracked right in two. She probably should’ve stayed silent, should’ve maintained some sort of dignity—but Nina Chapman had been born mouthy, and her twenty-three years of life had only exacerbated the issue. “Are you serious?”

  James’s head snapped up, surprise all over his handsome face. “You disagree?”

  What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Like it should be painfully obvious that she was a bad idea, right after he’d licked her to orgasm? Face burning, Nina snatched her jeans up off the floor—where he’d dropped them—and snapped “At least let me get my clothes on before you start complaining.”

  “Nina.” Now he had the audacity to look upset, his lush mouth pressed into a severe line, deep furrows marking his brow. God, he was irritating. And worse, when he stood, she saw the hard-on tenting his suit trousers. Only James would be wearing suit trousers and a crisp blue shirt on a Sunday morning, and only James would do that filthy thing he’d done with his tongue while wearing said suit trousers… and only James could make her think fond thoughts about him even when she wanted to punch him in the face.

  And she definitely wanted to punch him in the face. Because not only had he made her come, he’d apparently—physically—enjoyed it. Yet, even unfulfilled desire wasn’t enough to make him fuck her. In fact, it was becoming painfully clear that absolutely nothing would be enough to make him fuck her. She’d gone all out with this silly seduction plan, hoping he’d finally see her as Nina instead of the kid she’d been back when they first met. Hoping he’d stop treating her like a little sister or a best friend, and start treating her like a grown woman. Well, he’d treated her like a woman, alright, and look what it got her: battered pride and pitying looks.

  At least, she thought that was pity in his eyes. It was something bleak and awful, anyway.

  “I’m sorry, Cupcake,” he said, and the childhood nickname just made everything worse.

  “Don’t apologise to the woman you just slept with, James. It’s very déclassé.”

  He winced. “We didn’t—”

  “I recommend you shut the fuck up before I throw you out the window, okay?” It was an empty threat, of course, and not just because she’d never hurt him. Nina wasn’t exactly a lightweight, but he had at least a hundred pounds on her. There was no way on God’s green earth she could ever throw James fucking Foster out of a window. He knew that, and yet he nodded solemnly and kept quiet.

  That was the kicker, you see. She didn’t just want to sleep with James. If she did, this rejection wouldn’t have bothered her. There were plenty of guys she could sleep with, plenty of guys she did sleep with. But none of those men were sweet and serious and generous and open and determined and protective and James. None of those men had gone from being her brother’s best friend, just part of the furniture, to someone she might actually—nauseatingly—love.

  Maybe this whole thing had been doomed from the start, anyway. Nina knew very little about love, which was why her reaction to it had been a mortifying attempt at seduction rather than, say, a heart-to-heart.

  She’d take this romantic failure as a sign, she decided. Clearly, this wasn’t meant to be.

  Her expression grim, she shoved on her boots and patted her pockets, making sure her phone and keys were there.

  “Don’t go,” James said. As always, his deep voice
held a tone of command. Which, as always, made her determined to ignore him. “I need to talk to you, Nina. We—” He broke off, which was odd enough to make her pause. James usually spoke like a statesman. He did not hesitate and he did not stutter. But he recovered quickly and she was too pissed to wonder about it. “We need to talk,” he finished, kind of redundantly.

  “Don’t worry,” she gritted out. “I won’t tell my brother.”

  He actually flinched at the last word. Then he shut his eyes and ran a hand over his jaw and sighed, “Ah, shit. Markus.”

  Well holy fucksticks in a bleeding blue canoe. He hadn’t even thought about her brother. He hadn’t pulled the brakes because of anything to do with Mark’s protective instincts, or some weird, bro-code, don’t-sleep-with-my-little-sister thing, or because years ago, when Mark joined the Royal Air Force, he’d asked James to “look after” her.

  James really just straight-up didn’t want her. At all.

  Great.

  She strode out of the room.

  “Nina!”

  “Nina, sweetheart, you’re so fucking wet, let me taste you, I need to taste you…”

  She pushed the painfully fresh memory—the lie—away and practically ran through the flat. He followed her, of course. He’d never let her disappear when she was upset. He was way too fucking nice for that.

  God, she hated nice.

  She wrenched open his front door, then turned to face him. The sight of him was like a slap. Somehow, despite the fact that his actions had made her all cold and hard inside, he didn’t look different at all. He was still gorgeous, with his gentle eyes and strong jaw and full lips—God, those lips—and his soft, bear-like bulk that she wanted to sink into…

  But wouldn’t, ever again.

  “Nina,” he said, “I’m not explaining this very well. I’m sorry.”

  The apology tore through her flesh like a blade. She blinked, her eyes stinging with something hot and prickly that surely couldn’t be tears. Surely. God, she couldn’t let him see that she was on the edge of crying. The only thing more embarrassing than what had just happened would be James finding out how deeply it hurt.

  He could never, ever know how deeply it hurt.

  Her words rapid and desperate, her nails carving into the palms of her hands, she lashed out. “If you really don’t want to upset me, James, then don’t talk to me. Ever. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear from you. Unless my brother’s home and we have to play nice, stay the fuck away from me. Please.”

  He stared at her with a sort of devastated horror, his umber skin taking on a greyish tinge. He looked so unhappy, she actually had to fight the instinct to comfort him—which was ridiculous. He was a grown man, for one thing, seven years older than she was. And anyway, what the fuck did he have to be upset about?

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Message delivered, she stepped out into the hall and slammed the door shut in his face.

  1

  Six Weeks Later

  “Heads up,” Benny grinned. “Shadow’s here.”

  James tensed, staring blankly at the carburetor in front of him. Shadow was his technician’s nickname for Nina. But she hadn’t been his shadow for a long while, now.

  Actually, it had been just over a month since he’d ruined everything between them. But somehow, it felt like forever.

  He bent deeper under the hood of the Morris Miner he was working on and ignored Benny’s bullshit. The guy was notorious for his ‘practical jokes’; no doubt James’s employees wanted to see how pathetically eager he’d become if he thought Nina was around. Well, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. It was obvious to anyone who knew him that he was miserable without her. They didn’t need to know any more than that.

  “Big man,” Benny called. “You hear me?”

  Unfortunately. James gritted his teeth and attacked a rusted-on bolt. The classic car had been… neglected, and now even penetrating oil didn’t seem to be helping. He didn’t mind though. In fact, he’d taken on this job as a favour for his dad’s old mate because the force it required was an excellent distraction. He threw himself into the task, letting physical exertion pull him away from his near-constant thoughts of Nina.

  Then an achingly familiar voice hit him, harsh and flat and music to his fucking ears. “You busy or what?”

  He straightened up so fast, he smacked his head on the Moggy’s bonnet. “Shit.” Holding a hand to his now-throbbing skull, James emerged from under the hood with a scowl. But the expression melted away when he realised his ears hadn’t deceived him—and neither had Benny. Nina was here. Standing just three feet away, in fact, and glaring at him like he’d eaten her firstborn.

  Her hair was shoved on top of her head in a knot, her heavy-lidded eyes were shadowed, and her jaw was tight. Her clothes were oversized, fraying, and entirely black. She looked like heaven. And if things were different—if he weren’t such a thick-headed dick—he could be throwing an arm over her shoulders and taking her to lunch right about now. James wiped his oily hands off on his coveralls and lowered the hood. Calm. He would stay calm. He was always calm.

  Only she ever threatened his peace. Only she could ever make him wild.

  “I’m never too busy for you,” he said.

  She huffed out something too bitter to be a laugh, turned on her heel, and stomped off in the direction of his office.

  Things were rarely easy with Nina. But they were always worth it.

  * * *

  “I’m getting death threats,” she said.

  James blinked. His mind, usually so smooth and methodical, ground to an abrupt halt. He used the lull in mental activity to stare at her—to devour her, in fact, all the tiny details he’d missed so fucking much. She was bold and beautiful in the grimy little afterthought that was his private office, sitting in her uncomfortable, spindly seat as if it were a throne. Around her, everything was exactly as it should be. His old, wooden desk had a huge, chipped dent in it where he’d once dropped a wrench. The paperwork strewn about was stained with engine oil he hadn’t quite wiped off his palms. The tiny, black-and-white CCTV monitor in the corner was playing crackly footage. There was nothing to suggest that he’d recently fallen into another dimension or that he was currently experiencing a stroke.

  Which meant that he’d heard her correctly.

  “Death threats,” James repeated, his mind lurching back to life.

  “Yes,” she said, utterly expressionless. “Death threats. Definition: a typically anonymous threat made by a person or group of people regarding the planned murder of another person or group of people, usually—”

  “Nina, stop it.” He ran a rough hand over his jaw, barely feeling the rasp of his own stubble. Barely feeling anything. His pulse raced as the implications sank in. Death threats? Nina? Who the fuck… But losing his temper wouldn’t help. She hadn’t come to him because she needed a big strong man to punch a hole through the nearest wall; she’d come to him, presumably, for help. So James shoved down the volcanic explosion of rage inside him and tried to stay focused. Detached. Logical. Even though his primary instinct, right now, was to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

  That is not an option. Move on.

  “Alright,” James said briskly, thinking fast. “I’m assuming this has something to do with the site?”

  “Yep.”

  Nina was the anonymous founder and editor of Check Them Before They Wreck Us, an independent political news site dedicated to explaining current events, human rights, and British law in a manner that average citizens could understand. It… upset certain people. To say the least. She was, supposedly, a radical. But most of the things she believed seemed like common sense to James.

  “My article about Brexit’s Leave campaign breaking electoral law went viral,” she said. “Millions of hits. The Daily called me a black rights extremist.”

  He frowned. “…What does the Leave campaign have to do with—?”

  Nina rolled her eye
s, waving a hand tipped with chipped, black nails. “Don’t try to make it make sense. It’s The Daily.”

  Fair point. James’s temper rose again at the thought of Nina targeted by that rag. She’d had minor issues before, angry commenters and fascist trolls, but this… A thought, a glimmer of memory, struck him, cutting through the anger. “Wait. You published that Leave article, what, a month back?”

  For the first time that day, her face betrayed a fragment of emotion, barely enough for most people to decode. But he’d met Nina when she was a permanently-disgusted teenager heavy into her Goth phase; she couldn’t hide from him. He understood the slight flicker of her lashes, the way her direct gaze darted away for a moment. She was shocked. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to keep up with her work while they weren’t speaking.