All Chained Up (Devil's Rock #1)(43)

She stepped back with a gasp. Running a hand over her wet hair, she gulped down a nervous breath and unlocked the door.

“Hi,” she said, gratified that she managed an even voice.

His gaze traveled over her, not missing the fact that she stood in front of him in a bathrobe. Maybe she should have taken a minute to get dressed. Maybe she shouldn’t have answered the door. Unease dripped through her. This couldn’t be healthy. A guy like him wasn’t going to give her the things she needed. Well, aside from orgasms. She needed those. She loved those.

She gave herself a swift mental kick. A relationship was out of the question. He might have proven that he possessed a code . . . that he possessed honor enough to save her life, but he was still a dangerous man. Briar didn’t need a doctorate in psychology to know he had his demons. Eight years in prison, who wouldn’t? He was unpredictable, damaged, and she needed to steer clear of him. She should just end it now and close the door.

She shifted her weight.

“Hey,” he returned. “Can I come in?”

There was something in his voice that she hadn’t heard before, and she thought she had seen him in every incarnation. Scary inmate. Fierce protector. Hungry lover. Apparently there were more layers to him.

Several moments passed and she blinked, realizing she hadn’t replied yet. She just stood in her doorway, uncertain what to do, staring at him like she didn’t know him. And she didn’t.

With a shaky breath, she stepped aside. He strode past her.

She shut the door and locked it. Tightening the belt at her waist, satisfied that it was still in place, she turned, determined to keep her head. Determined to tell him that he couldn’t just drop in unannounced. That despite what happened the last time she saw him, she wasn’t just going to drop everything and roll over for him like some kind of—

She didn’t get a word out. He grasped the lapels of her robe and hauled her against him. She managed a squeak before his mouth claimed hers. And just like that she was on fire. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to keep up as he devoured her, forcing her lips open. His tongue slicked over hers as his hands slid inside her robe, rough palms gliding over her flesh to splay over her back.

He broke away and spoke against her mouth, his forehead pressed to hers as he inhaled a ragged breath. “I don’t even know why I’m here. One minute I was headed home and the next thing I know I’m at your door.” His hot gaze roamed over her features and he shook his head with a sound of disgust. “Fuck. Yeah, I do know.” His hand slid from her back and dove between her legs. She gasped as he touched her there. Mortification burned through her. She was already wet for him. He pushed a finger up inside her and she gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage. “I’m here for this. You okay with that?”

Her chest squeezed, all the air trapped inside at his declaration. He was asking her if this was okay. Sex. Fucking with no promises. In his rough way, that’s what he was doing.

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him to stop. Ready to explain that she wasn’t the kind of girl who did this sort of thing. Not with a guy like him. Her brain shouted at her to be careful, to use her head and stop letting her body rule her.

He pushed even deeper inside her, his finger curling and massaging that spot she had never known existed before him and she saw spots. The elusive G-spot. Not so elusive anymore.

She gave a strangled sound of assent and nodded wildly, her legs starting to shake and buckle as an orgasm welled up on her. Just like that. He knew what to do, how to play her.

“God, yes,” she sobbed.

“Good,” he growled. Then his mouth was on hers again. He wrapped an arm around her and lifted her off her feet, hugging her to him. He broke off kissing her to bury his face in her hair. For a moment he held her like that, his body locked tightly against her own, his face buried in her neck, in all her damp free-flowing hair, as his hand still worked between her legs. Rubbing. Stroking, Pushing and pulling until she shattered, came apart, shuddering and boneless.

He pressed a kiss into her hair as his fingers slipped out from her. Tenderness washed through her. She smoothed a hand over his dark cropped hair. “Knox,” she whispered, her voice cracking a little, unsure at this side to him.

He lifted his head, and she recognized the stark look in his gaze. The hunger. Still holding her, he started walking, and she nodded as though convincing herself that this was okay just one more time. She still felt shaky inside. Shaky but certain that she wanted him, too.

He carried her into her bedroom and set her down on the bed, pushing her robe off her shoulders so it spread wide beneath her.

Using her elbows, Briar crawled back on the bed. He came over her, his gaze hungry as he examined her like he was committing her to memory. He made her feel beautiful. She’d never had that with another guy. Beau had suggested on more than one occasion that she needed to lose a few pounds.

Knox touched her, skimming a palm down her body, between the valley of her breasts and down the center of her stomach. He palmed her sex like he owned it—owned her—and she arched up with a gasp.

He crouched between her thighs, using his big shoulders to push her legs wide apart for him.

“Knox,” she cried out, clutching his skull as his head dipped. His mouth latched onto her and she bucked at the pressure of his lips, the swipe of his tongue along her wet seam. No one had gone down on her before. It wasn’t Beau’s thing. He had been interested in only receiving.