Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(47)

Eleven years. He’d been in prison for eleven years. For the first time, she didn’t feel the usual disgust. That fact made something hot unfurl in her belly. “I know what I’m doing.” She’d be his first woman in all that time. It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason it did.

“I doubt that or you wouldn’t let me touch you like this. Like I’m going to.” He leaned down on his elbow and slid his hand into her hair, gripping hard, pulling her head back and angling her face so that they stared directly into each other’s eyes. “Say this is real,” he demanded. “Say you want it.”

She unclenched her teeth from her lip. “I want it.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between hers like he was assessing for the truth.

She inhaled a thick breath. “I want you.”

A growl rumbled up from his chest, vibrating into her. The sound made her feel desired, beautiful. Wanted by this big, gorgeous brute with his piercing eyes and magic hands.

He did this thing with his wrist and bore down, making her gasp, moan. She couldn’t help herself.

She ran her fingers into his short hair, learning the shape of his skull beneath her palm. The promise of release welled back up inside her again, bigger than anything she had ever felt before. She couldn’t stop it. She didn’t want to. She rode the wave arching under him.

He pushed, touched, stroked. All over the thin soaking wet fabric of her panties. She wasn’t even naked. There was no penetration.

“God. You’re hot for it,” he grunted against her mouth before claiming her lips in another scorching, messy kiss that was full of pants and moans.

And then, suddenly, he knuckled aside her panties and pushed one finger deep inside her, curling up and touching her so deeply that she shattered, crying out loudly. Wildly. Uninhibited. Something she had never done. Never thought possible. Especially with a man like him.

It was like he wasn’t going to give up until he wrung an orgasm out of her. Her grip twisted tighter in the sheets. “Give it to me. Come for me, Gracie. I need to hear it, feel it, from you.”

No one had ever called her Gracie before. It was cute. Feminine. Not nearly formal enough for her parents’ tastes, and it was another hit, another attack to her overwrought system.

“I—I . . .” She tossed her head from side to side, not knowing what to do with the overwhelming sensations.

“Now, Gracie,” he said, his voice hard. In control. “Come for me now.”

She arched, breaking apart as his fingers worked over her, not stopping, not slowing down even through the wave of her mind-obliterating orgasm.

She gripped his skull with one hand as her other palm skated down the smoothness of his muscled back, the aftershocks of her orgasm eddying throughout her.

This wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her. And yet it was. It was and she didn’t regret it. They were still partially clothed, his finger buried deep inside her. The hunger was still there, pulsing within her . . . unfed in him.

Even through his clothes his erection rocked solid against the inside of her thigh. She was acutely, achingly aware that there was much left to explore and a lot left unfinished between them.

And they had a long night still ahead of them.





Fifteen




This had BAD IDEA written all over it. His entire body shook with restraint as he hovered over her. He took a gulp of air as he fought to pull himself together.

He’d forbidden himself to cross this line with her. It was wrong on so many levels. Even if she wanted him now, she would regret it tomorrow. Or the next day. Or simply when she was back in her world . . . back in her role as First Daughter.

She would look back at this time with him in horror. What he’d just done to her was bad enough . . . but if they went ahead and had sex. Well, that would be worse. He might not be forcing her, but she would feel just as traumatized later.

Still, with all of these very reasonable, very sobering thoughts tracking through his mind, he did not withdraw. His one hand remained buried in her hair while his other was still lodged between her smooth thighs, his finger deep inside her. He breathed slow breaths in and out, the pulse thudding a fast tempo in his ears as he reveled in the way she throbbed all around him. He felt awake and alive in a way he had not felt in years.

That could be you buried inside her. She wouldn’t stop him. She was saying all the right things that signified consent.

If he didn’t get off her, Reid didn’t know if he could stop himself. He was too hard, too hungry, too desperate . . .

He withdrew, sliding off her. His body protested, wept for her, but his mind held strong. He couldn’t stand the thought of her hating him later. For abducting her and holding her captive, sure. That was fair. He’d take the hit for that. But he wasn’t going to f*ck her when it was something she would regret later.

One of her hands grabbed his arm, her slim fingers digging into his skin. “Where are you going?”

He inhaled a deep breath. “Grace, we can’t. We’re done.”

Her eyes widened, liquid-dark pools that could drown a man. He certainly felt like he was drowning. And not just in her eyes. In her scent. In all that night-black hair that his hands couldn’t get enough of. In the taste and texture of her.

Christ. He needed out of this room.

“What?” she whispered, her voice no less demanding for its quiet.