Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(34)

“You know I’ve been wondering what your face looked like.”

“Yeah?” she bit out, her voice hard with challenge even if she felt shaky and uncertain inside.

“Yeah,” he repeated with a nod.

She swallowed, fighting against the sudden lump in her throat. Her porch light glowed strong, bathing her in its yellow glow. There was no hiding her makeup-free features from him. Her wet hair fell around her face in a curtain. “Disappointed?”

He stepped closer and picked up a lock of hair off her shoulder. “Is this your way of fishing for compliments? You want me to tell you that you’re pretty? That I’d f*ck you.”

She snorted. “We know you’d do that with anyone.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll say it.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “You’re pretty.” Her breath seized in her chest at the simple declaration. She didn’t realize until that moment how badly she wanted him to find her attractive. “I’d f*ck you.”

“Yeah.” Her voice escaped in a whispery rasp. “Well. Not happening. I’m not going to be another notch on your bedpost. I’m certain you can find someone else to f*ck.”

She closed her hands over his and lifted them off her, desperation hammering inside her. She had to flee. Coming out here, talking to him, letting him touch her . . . it had all been a mistake.

He angled his head and rubbed at the back of his neck with an idleness she didn’t feel. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“You see . . . ever since you moved in, I’ve kind of wanted to f*ck you.” He shrugged like he was just commenting on the weather.

She laughed weakly even as her heart knocked like a battering ram against her chest. “This is the first time you’ve even seen my face.”

“I know. It’s crazy.” He nodded his dark head. “I never wanted a woman without knowing what she looked like.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, certain that he was lying. Mocking her. As always.

She spun around and charged toward her door. Maybe she did need to rethink staying here. Maybe she did need to move because—

A hand on her shoulder had her whirling around. She caught a flash of dark eyes before his mouth slammed over hers.

She inhaled through her nose as his mouth slanted over hers. His lips were soft. She didn’t know what she’d expected. He was so hard. His eyes. His body. Everything about him, but his mouth was gentle and coaxing on hers.

He spoke against her mouth. “Does this feel like bullshit? I wanted you before I could see you. And now that I’ve seen you . . . I want you even more.”

His words sapped her lingering willpower. She couldn’t stop herself. She lifted her hands and grabbed his neck, her fingers curling through the strands of hair at his nape, pulling him closer, drawing him in. And still it was not enough. Still not close enough. She wouldn’t be close enough until she had managed to crawl inside him.

There were distant sounds. A dog barking. A car starting somewhere down the street. The sudden burst of wind stirring the heated air and wrestling with dry leaves in trees. All this was muted background to the roar of blood in her veins for this man. For his mouth on hers. His tongue sliding past her lips. For the hard plane of his chest mashing into her.

He made a growling sound of approval. His hands, contrary to his mouth, felt firm and hard, controlling as they grabbed her waist and turned her, guiding her backward while never breaking their kiss until he hefted her up and plopped her down on the hood of her car—as though she weighed nothing at all. And that was saying something.

She was no small package. At five feet ten inches she could seriously throw out a man’s back. A normal man. Just not this one. He would have been a warrior in another time. A warrior with a marauding mouth. Her hands pulled and tugged at him, desperate for more. She ached and wanted with every burning fiber of her being. A terrifying realization. Faith had never wanted anyone like this. It was scary. A person did not just enter into a fling with their next-door neighbor and not suffer consequences. Especially not with a man like this. He was complicated. Dark and edgy.

And yet here she was, panting and kissing him as though a gun were pointed at her skull demanding she do so.

She shoved her body back against him, pressing breasts that suddenly felt tight and aching into his chest. Her robe was thick and fluffy. He couldn’t possibly feel her hardened nipples, but she did. She felt the prodding tips chafing against the terrycloth of her robe, dying to be acknowledged . . . touched, anything . . .

“I knew you wanted to be bad.” His deep voice rumbled against her mouth.

Those words jarred her.

She broke her lips free of his, opening her eyes to a blurred world. She blinked off her daze, focusing on his looming face.

He sucked in a breath and looked down at her. His skin was flushed, the scar standing out starkly, a white tear against the heated color of his skin.

“Wait, wait, wait . . .” she gasped.

He waited. Staring down at her in a way that made her feel like cornered prey . . . moments before the wolf decided to pounce and feast.

Looking up at him, she noted the various golden-brown flecks in his deep brown eyes. Who knew brown eyes could have so many colors? Who knew any man’s eyes could make her feel so warm and melty inside? Her hand shook between them, pressing against the hard wall of his chest. Not so much to ward him off as to keep herself from diving back in.