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ever. He had on jeans and she knew he would be commando because that was his style. He reclined on his side facing her.
    “Aw, you’re wearing a robe.” He clucked his tongue a couple of times.
    She sighed again. She hated being this torn. And she really did need him to move on.
    “What are you doing here?” She turned away from him and hunted through her suitcase. She had a bunch of new clothes. Shoplifting was just plain fun. She’d even let herself be cuffed and put in the back of a police car. When neither of the officers responded to her overtures, she’d just wiped their memories and folded to the Holiday Inn.
    She smelled his cherry tobacco again. Dammit, she liked that scent way too much, and it liked her, right between her legs. For a long hard moment she thought about jumping his bones, just for old times’ sake. But in the end, she needed Thorne to quit following her around. He needed to stop with all the protective bullshit and get on with gettin’ on.
    “You’re beautiful,” Thorne said.
    At that, she stopped pushing all the mixed-up crap around in her suitcase and turned toward him. “I guess we need to have this out.”
    But he just smiled. He had an ease to his eyes that was very familiar.
    Her mouth popped wide. “You just had sex.”
    “I did.” He grinned. The bastard had the nerve to grin.
    Marguerite closed the distance to the bed preternaturally fast so that before she knew what she was doing, or even intended to do, she straddled him, her robe falling open, which only made him grin some more.
    “Who was she?” She thumped his chest with her fist. “Tell me her name. Did you find her in one of the local dives or maybe out there in the lobby?”
    “I’m a gentleman,” he said, lacing his hands behind his head. “I don’t fuck and tell. You know that.”
    She was so mad she couldn’t think straight. She started pounding on his thick muscled pecs with both hands. She let out a strange keening sound she didn’t think could ever have come out of her throat. She hated the thought of Thorne with another woman.
    The next second he grabbed her arms and flipped her over, pinning her. He put his mouth on hers and kissed her … hard. She tried to fight him but he was six-five and really built, lean, tough, and hardened by war. It was like struggling against steel.
    After a moment, when she’d quieted a little, he pulled back.
    “I’m so mad.”
    “You? Mad? Impossible. You have the gentlest temperament.”
    “Screw you.” But he kissed her again, and because he smelled delicious, like her favorite pipe tobacco, her muscles grew lax and she let him put his tongue in her mouth.
    She shouldn’t have done that. She really shouldn’t. She loved Thorne’s tongue. Aw, hell, she loved Thorne, she just didn’t want this, all this closeness and connection, all this future she could feel pressing down on her.
    After a moment, he pulled back. She wanted him to understand, she really did. But the truth was, she didn’t understand it herself.
    “Isn’t it killing you not to be with the brotherhood? Not to be in charge, although I’d bet just about anything that you’ve been issuing orders all this time.”
    His smiled was crooked. “Yeah. I put Kerrick in charge, but he didn’t like that job. I just turned the reins over to Luken.” He frowned slightly. “Santiago and Zach are feuding, something about me, I guess.”
    Guilt started piling up again. He was chasing her but he knew where he was needed. “You should go back.”
    He searched her eyes. “I will when it’s time, but right now I have something I want to ask you, something I’ve always wanted to know.” She could guess. “You never told me, not in any real detail, why you hated your childhood. I know you said you think we should have this out, but maybe I can’t let go because I don’t get it, not all of it. Tell me something, Marguerite. Let me in a little.”
    She looked up at him. He had such a gorgeous face, high