Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(27)

He moved suddenly toward the bedroom where Grace slept and peered in. The bed was empty. She wasn’t where he had left her.

Shit. He spun around and lurched for the front door. It wasn’t locked, and he knew he’d locked it automatically behind him. Stepping out onto the porch, he scanned the yard. The van sat there, staring back at him, mocking him in the dark night. A slight movement or sound had him lifting his head and looking farther down the road.

There was a flash of something pale against the darkness, and he realized it must be her—that cream-colored blouse. She was already quite far down the road. He didn’t expect any cars coming up this way, but if she slipped off the road and went into the woods, he could lose her. It was a vast wilderness out here. She could lose herself in it. She had no idea what she was doing.

With another curse, he dropped down off the porch and started running, his bare feet smacking the ground hard. He didn’t even care or look back when his towel dropped. He kept running, bare-ass naked, arms pumping swiftly.

His gaze fixed on the cream-colored blouse . . . even when she dove off the road and into the woods—the precise thing he was hoping she wouldn’t do. He ran harder, not wanting to lose her in the dense foliage, and dove into it behind her.

“Grace!” He swerved between trees, slowing down for moment and trying to glimpse her. She couldn’t be that far ahead. He couldn’t have lost her that suddenly.

He heard a snap and whirled around, glimpsing a flash of her blouse through the darkness. He plunged ahead. She must have heard him, too. He caught a flash of her face as she looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide in alarm.

“Grace!” he cried again, but the sound of her name just seemed to ignite her, pushing her faster.

Finished playing chase and not about to lose her in the woods, he dove, stretching his hand out to grab her. She screamed as he locked onto her shoulder, twisting her around to face him. Her hands balled into fists and she pummeled his chest and shoulders. Suddenly she stopped. Her fists opened. She flattened her palms against his chest.

He couldn’t see her face in the dark but he felt her shudder. “You’re not wearing a shirt!” By the motion of her head he could tell she was glancing down. “You’re not wearing anything!”

He chuckled, pulling her flush to him, enjoying her outrage more than he should. “Sorry about that, but when I saw that the little bird had flown the coop, I didn’t have time to get dressed.”

She sucked in a deep breath and resumed struggling. “You’re an animal!”

Turning, he started dragging her back toward the road. With her resistance, it wasn’t an easy feat, so he just wrapped an arm around her waist and picked her up, holding her against his side.

“If I was an animal, you would be naked, too,” he muttered.

And under me.

She gasped again, her warm breath fanning the side of his throat, raising his skin to gooseflesh. That’s not all she was raising. He stopped himself from glancing down. He didn’t need to look to know. He was rock-hard and pulsing. Fuck, he ached. There was no maybe about it—he was enjoying this too much.

And he could be enjoying it far more. An insidious little voice tracked through his mind. You could make it good for her.

Even if he took her here in the dirt, he could make her come first so that when he sank deep inside her she would be writhing and begging for it.

Sweat beaded his brow. His breath fell hard, crashing on the air, and it had nothing to do with exertion. It had everything to do with long years of denial.

He kicked that callous voice to the curb. It wasn’t him. He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

Her fingers clawed at his hand where it clenched around her waist, trying to peel them off. It was as though she sensed the pheromones on the air . . . how close he was to breaking. “I—I’m sorry. I won’t try to run again, just please put me down.”

Her soft, breathless plea undid him. As did her body pressed against him. Time to put space between her and his cock and his rapidly melting self-control.

“Fine,” he grunted. He lowered her feet to the ground. She took a hasty step back, clearly wanting space between them.

He pointed straight ahead. “House is this way—”

She kicked him hard in the shin and bolted.

“Shit!” He hopped for a moment, grabbing his shin as pain radiated through his leg. That little liar.

Grunting, he dropped his leg and spun on the balls of his feet, sprinting after her. “No, you don’t,” he growled, launching himself and tackling her to the ground.

She shrieked as they rolled, tussling.

“Damn it! Stop! You’re going to get hurt!” A rush of breath escaped him as she landed a sharp blow to his ribs.

They rolled to a stop with him on top. He naturally settled in the shelter between her legs, sparing her from the bulk of his weight. One of her fists struck him in the side of the face. “Right! Because you care about me getting hurt!”

He tried to catch her flailing hands. The nails of one hand latched onto his jaw and raked down his neck. He hissed and grabbed it, slamming the hand on the ground near her head.

“You might decide to care about your safety and stop attacking me,” he snarled into her face, still trying to seize her other wild hand.

“Oh, what’s wrong? You don’t like getting your ass kicked by a girl?” she taunted up into his face.