All Chained Up (Devil's Rock #1)(64)

Instead of telling him that, she shook her head, sniffing back tears.

“Don’t,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to her cheeks, kissing away her tears. And then she was crying over this from him. This tenderness from a man that thought he was something broken. “Sssh.” His mouth, moist with her tears, came back over her trembling lips.

She whimpered and opened to him. He brought her onto his lap. She straddled him and they kissed like that. Forever and ever. One hand came up to tug at her hair band, snapping it free so that the heavy mass tumbled loose to curtain them.

“God, I love your hair,” he muttered against her mouth, running his hands through it and holding it back to keep kissing her.

She was breathless and panting when he suddenly broke off. “Briar, believe it or not, I didn’t come here to do this.”

She backed away from him, fighting the urge to beg him to keep going. She had already bared herself to him in a way that left her exposed and vulnerable tonight. She wouldn’t do it again. She carefully chose her words. “Why did you come here, then?”

He gazed at her, one hand buried in her hair, the other still holding her face as though she were some fragile piece of crystal. His thumb trailed down her tear-moist cheek.

As though his silence was answer enough, she nodded once and started to pull away from him. No more disregarding her dignity. She wasn’t chasing him.

His hands tightened around her, hauling her back. “I don’t want to hurt you, Briar.” He spoke so fiercely that she knew he was saying that as much for himself as her. “I should do the right thing. I tried tonight at Roscoe’s. You know what I am. You shouldn’t even let me near you. I should let you go. Leave you alone.”

“If that’s the right thing . . . why doesn’t it feel like it?” she asked, unsure whom she was posing the question for. Him? Or herself?

He stared at her for a long moment before giving a single nod. “Okay.” Something shifted in that single word. The plank she had been tottering on finally tipped and she fell to the other side.

Somehow he had just agreed to . . . what? Be with her? Date her? That word felt so small and weak compared to what she felt as he tucked her against his side and settled back on the couch, his strong arm wrapped fully around her.





TWENTY-TWO


BRIAR WOKE TO bright sunlight pouring in the blind slats and the smell of frying bacon. The bed she didn’t remember climbing into was warm and cozy, the space beside her empty, but she knew the bacon wasn’t frying itself.

Knox was still here.

A stupid smile broke out on her face, which she instantly tried reining in. She didn’t want to look too eager. Just because they’d spent a night together that involved talking and cuddling and watching TV on her couch like a couple—and he didn’t disappear before morning—did not mean they were in a committed relationship. If that’s even what she wanted from him. She snorted, internally laughing at herself. Was there really any doubt anymore?

She stretched against her sheets and that stupid smile returned when she thought about the fact that he must have carried her to the bed. Her hand drifted to her mouth. She let her fingers play over her smile, not even caring that she must have weighed a ton. He’d carried her to bed rather than wake her up on the couch . . . or just leave altogether.

Hopping up from the bed, she smoothed a hand over her wild hair, caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shrugged. Deciding it was hopeless, she padded barefoot into the kitchen.

Knox stood shirtless in front of her stove. She stared at his broad, sinewy back with the dragon tattoo that wrapped around his side, disappearing around his ribs. Her mouth watered at the sight and she shifted on her feet, commanding her libido to get back down.

“Hey,” she greeted, butterflies erupting in her stomach at the full impact of him, in a pair of jeans that sat low on his narrow hips, in her kitchen. Making breakfast.

He had actually stayed.

“Hey.” He turned halfway and smiled at her. “Hungry?”

She nodded and plopped down on one of her bar stools, pressing her legs together as if that would stop their sudden shaking. She could probably count on one hand the number of times Knox smiled, and most of those times had been last night. She liked that they were continuing into today.

“Good. It’s just about ready.” Two pieces of toast popped up and he did this little bounce step to pluck them from the toaster that ended with him swearing and tossing the hot bread around until they landed on the waiting plates.

She clapped. “Impressive.” And she was impressed. Not just with his toast-saving expertise but with the play of cut muscles along his ribs and torso.

He winked. “I have mad toast-making skills.”

He dished up the rest of their breakfast. So much food she wondered if this was meant to be her last meal. Ever. “Who is going to eat all this?”

“We are.” He surprised her by pressing a lingering kiss to her mouth before settling back down on the stool beside her.

“I usually skip breakfast,” she confessed.

“Terrible. Hasn’t anyone told you it’s the most important meal of the day?”

“Yes. I’ve heard that. I just would rather sleep the extra ten to twenty minutes.”

At the mention of time, she glanced at the clock and gasped. “Is it really eleven?”