Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(14)

Her voice softened into something that reminded him of the whipped cream his grandmother used to dollop on top of pie. It was one of those rare sweet memories. “I . . . I can make it worth your while.”

“That so?”

“Yes. Get me out of here, and I’ll see that you’re rewarded.”

His mind took a dive into the gutter, imagining a reward he was positive she hadn’t intended when she made the offer. No, she was probably thinking money or a pass from prosecution. She didn’t know that he was serving a life sentence. There was no pass from that.

“Get some sleep,” he said gruffly.

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted him to guarantee her freedom. He felt her rattled sigh as much as he heard it. He’d disappointed her, and that made something twist inside him. He hated that she was here. He hated that she was afraid and that he couldn’t help her.

But that was just the way it had to be.

He settled his weight into the bed and closed his eyes. He would think better after a night’s sleep. Maybe then he could wade through the complicated web of saving her while simultaneously bringing down Sullivan. Moments ticked by. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. For eleven years he had slept alone, and now there was a woman next to him in a bed. A warm-bodied woman with curves and breasts that would overflow in his hands. A groan built up in his chest. This was going to be a very long night.

Suddenly, the door burst open and light flooded the room. Christ. He jackhammered upright, yanking her partially beneath him and glaring at the unwanted arrivals. He was half expecting it. It was the reason, after all, that he’d told her to strip off her clothes. But it didn’t curtail the rage flooding his veins.

His brother entered, bearing a plate of steaming food. Rowdy propped a shoulder on the doorjamb, munching on an ice cream sandwich, his feral gaze landing on them in the bed. She trembled underneath Reid. Convenient, he supposed. Not that he enjoyed her trembling in fear, but she needed to look traumatized.

“Get the f*ck out,” Reid growled, his arms braced around Grace, shielding her while also trying to make it look like Zane and Rowdy had interrupted them. Again he was glad that he’d made her get undressed and into bed with him. If Zane didn’t think he was f*cking her, he’d give her to Rowdy, no question about it.

Zane lifted the plate a bit. “Thought you might be hungry.”

“Out,” he repeated.

“Told you he wouldn’t be interested in food right now,” Rowdy chimed in, stepping closer and peering at Grace. “How was she?” he asked mildly. “Looks like she’s got a decent rack.”

Grace whimpered and burrowed deeper into the bed, still shaking. What’s worse, Rowdy’s words only made Reid all too aware of her naked breasts mashed into his chest. The twin points of her nipples burned into him. Heat clawed through him.

Zane shrugged. “Figured you might be done and ready to eat something.”

Rowdy chuckled. “After all that time in the joint, he might be more than a two-pump-chump like you, man.”

Grace shuddered violently beneath him, and he glanced down at her, hoping to reassure her somehow with a look. Then the sight of her hit him like a Mack Truck. He was seeing her close up now, with the lights on. Her dark hair fanned out all around her. Even his propped arms were resting in the silken nest.

The olive skin. Liquid brown eyes and curling lashes. The tiny mole at the corner of her left eye. She wasn’t beautiful, but there was something about her. Something as fresh and untouched and delicate as a rose after a storm. It was something that made his stomach twist into knots. She was innocent. She clearly didn’t belong in this place, with these men, with him.

He shook his head and blinked, killing the weak thoughts and letting in far more destructive ideas. “I’m not done,” he muttered to the intruders, and then all he could think about was how a girl like this would require a lot of time and attention. He’d devote long hours to her, starting with that lush mouth. The things he would do to that mouth . . .

Her eyes flared wide at his voice, his words. Apparently, he sounded convincing.

“’Course not.” Rowdy laughed roughly. “After all those years in prison, we probably won’t see you for a week. C’mon, Zane.”

He couldn’t tear his gaze off her. She stiffened under him, and he couldn’t help himself. He conducted a slow perusal, looking down her throat and shoulders. She had a smooth, unblemished complexion. His gaze feasted on all of it, watching as red splotches broke out across her olive skin. He wanted to see more.

He continued looking, taking in the top swells of her breasts pressing into his bare chest. His breath quickened, lifting his chest away for half a second before coming back down against her breasts. Again and again. He reveled in it—in the sensation of nipples he couldn’t see pebbling hard against his skin.

“Here you go, bro.” Something hit the end of the bed with a small thud, reminding him that they weren’t alone. “Don’t go making any babies. Suit up.”

The pulse in his ears rushed to a roar at the thought of that. Not about making babies . . . but sinking into the warm body under him.

Christ.

This wasn’t some willing female. He needed to get that sick thought out of his head. This wasn’t what he was. He hadn’t escaped prison to scratch an eleven-year itch with a willing woman, much less an unwilling one.