Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(5)

“Well, that was nice,” Serena chirped, still breathless. She peeked over her shoulder at him.

Fortunately, she wasn’t one of those clingy types that needed cuddling after sex. He gave a swat to her perfect ass and moved away. He knew it was more than nice. Women like Serena didn’t settle for anything less. They were a lot alike. She didn’t do relationships either. She was in it for the sex. A quick f*ck, hard and satisfying, short on the foreplay and zero on the sweet talk.

He slid on a pair of jeans, snapping the buttons. He’d been out of prison for two years and he was doing okay. He had a job. A house. Sunday dinners at his brother’s place whenever he wanted it—which wasn’t as often as Knox would like. There was only so much marital bliss North could witness between Knox and Briar without feeling nauseous. He forced himself to go occasionally just so Knox wouldn’t show up on his porch determined to play big brother.

“You should try one of those scones I left on the kitchen table,” Serena suggested behind him.

“Scones?” He glanced back at her. She was wrapped up in his sheets like some artfully arranged centerfold. He wasn’t dumb enough to think she was posing like that, one knee bent halfway to her chest and a generous hip thrust out, accidentally.

“Yeah, chocolate chip.”

“You baked? Never pegged you for much of a cook.”

His brother’s wife cooked. Last time he’d visited them out at the farm, she’d baked a chocolate pecan pie that could make a grown man cry. Briar Davis—correction, Briar Callaghan—was a f*cking girl scout. She was a nurse, a great cook, and even though he wasn’t supposed to notice it, she had a nice rack. Oh, and she loved his brother. The same guy who went to prison with him . . . whose hands were as bloodstained as North’s.

Knox had been there with him at Devil’s Rock. Except for those last four years. Then it had just been North. Alone. That was the difference.

Apparently, those four years made all the difference.

Knox was able to have a normal life with chocolate pecan pie and a wife.

Four additional years at the Rock made North fit only for booze and meaningless f*cks.

Serena pouted. “Maybe you don’t know everything about me, North Callaghan.”

He looked her over appraisingly. “I think I know you pretty well.”

“Just because we’ve gone to school together since kindergarten.”

“We took Home Ec together freshman year,” he reminded her. “You almost burned down the classroom when you tried to cook a quesadilla.”

“Oh my God.” She giggled. “I forgot about that. Well, I’ve learned a few things since then.”

He scanned the luscious swell of her backside. In high school, she had been a tease. No guy got in her pants, but she’d enjoyed fooling around and tying them up in knots. Quite different from the girl she was now who worked four nights a week at Joe’s Cabaret.

“I know you have,” he admitted. They had all learned a few things since high school. In his case, nothing good.

She stared at him for a long moment and he was pretty certain she was thinking about how much they had both changed. She worked as an exotic dancer. He was a hardened felon—a far cry from the clean-cut kid he used to be. Tatted, scarred up, hair too long, his body a honed weapon, he bore little resemblance to the guy who’d sat across from her in Home Ec. Not only did he know how to take a beating, he knew how to give one.

He knew how to kill.

He slammed a heavy metal door shut on those thoughts. He’d just gotten laid. He didn’t want to lose his after-sex buzz by traipsing down memory lane.

“I’m gonna go work out back,” he said, tugging on his shoes, already done with this conversation and craving his space. Solitude. It was a downside to having sex. Sometimes they wanted to chat afterward.

Indifferent to his announcement, Serena continued, “Your new neighbor baked the scones.”

“Huh,” he replied noncommittally. He’d noticed the car in the driveway. He knew the place had been sold. The For Sale sign had come down a week ago. The duplex next door had been vacant almost three months after the old man who lived there moved in with his son’s family. Various Realtors had traipsed in and out of the house with prospective buyers in that time. He’d stopped paying attention.

The last thing he needed was a nosy neighbor bringing him baked goods.

Serena stood, indifferent to her nudity. “She seems like a nice lady.” She held his stare.

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. “She is your neighbor. You might want to introduce yourself.”

“What for?”

“It’s called civilized behavior.”

He laughed once. A harsh bark. “Does that sound like me? Civilized?”

She stepped forward and patted her fingers against his chest. “No, darling. That’s why I come to you. Nice men . . . well, they don’t f*ck like you do.” She sighed. “Pity.”

He reached for her hips and hauled her against him. She was talking too much. Words he didn’t want or need to hear. If she was going to stay, she was going to have to shut up.

She continued, “Sometimes, whether you like it or not, you have to engage with other people. You have to speak to other people.”

“I talk when I need to.”