Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(48)

He decided to go with honesty. “I didn’t climb into this bed to do this. You were crying . . . I was concerned—”

She recoiled as though he had struck her. “That was pity?”

He shook his head, realizing that wasn’t the full truth of it either. Touching her had nothing to do with pity. “No—”

She angled her head, her voice mocking as she bit out, “Here’s an orgasm to make you feel better?” She let him go and scrambled for the covers, pulling them over her bare legs. “I’m such an idiot.” She shook her head, tossing all that lush hair behind her. “You’re just a full-service kind of criminal, aren’t you? Abduction and orgasms. Do you know how to bake brownies, too?”

“Gracie—”

She shook her head harder. “No, don’t call me that.”

“You’ve been through a lot. You don’t want to do this with me.” He motioned between the two of them. “You’re going to go back to your world soon and you don’t want to regret—”

“I get it.” She held up a hand, clearly hoping to stop him from saying more. “No need to explain. We’ve been through this already. I’m not your type. And hey, you’re not mine. I already have a fiancé.”

He stiffened. Somehow he had forgotten that fact. Just another reason to keep his distance. She wasn’t his to have. She belonged to someone else.

“That’s right.” He nodded, an ugly tightness stealing over him. All reasonableness fled him. Gone was the cool logic of moments ago. His urge to fling her down on that bed and make her his, mark her forever, stamp her as his own, was overpowering. For eleven years he’d lived by a code of taking, claiming, and holding onto what’s yours with your last breath if need be.

Irrational anger pumped through him. He wasn’t in a position to be with her and yet that didn’t stop him from resenting like hell that another man could be. “You have someone to f*ck you just as soon as you get home.”

He felt a stab of satisfaction at her sharp inhalation.

“That’s right!” she echoed. “And he won’t stop when the job’s half done. He’ll have no problem finishing.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides to stop from reaching for her. He felt like shaking her, but God knew what he would do if he actually touched her.

Turning, he strode toward his pallet, his feet hitting the floor hard. Bending, he snatched up his bedding. There was no way in hell he could sleep in the same room with her. He straightened and glared at her, sitting at attention on the bed, and she glared in turn at him, her dark eyes coal bright.

With one hand on the doorknob, he tossed out, “Be sure to let him know that I kept you warm and ready for him.”

With a growl of indignation, she grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room. It landed several feet short of him. He glanced from the pillow on the floor to her. He knew he should walk out. He was angry. Sexually frustrated. Anything he said at this point couldn’t be kind.

Still, he couldn’t stop taking one more parting shot. “Try not to think of me when it’s him inside you.”

“Why would I?” she hissed. “I haven’t a clue what that’s like . . . thank God,” she added with a flourish, waving her arms out on either side of her.

He tsked. “How quickly you forget you were just begging me for it.”

“Bastard!”

Grinning, he shut the door. He tossed his blanket on the couch and settled in, lying flat on his back and propping his hands behind his head. His smile quickly evaporated, taking with it any smugness he had felt. He glanced toward the closed bedroom door, feeling an uncomfortable tugging in his gut.

He’d forgotten how much he sucked at the relationship thing. He’d had plenty of girls, but never loved any of them. He didn’t know how to do that. He’d gone to prison at twenty years old, so maybe that would have come with time. Maybe not. It wasn’t as though he’d had any stellar examples to follow.

His grandmother died when he was just a baby. His grandfather had been a quality person but had never been the model for a healthy, monogamous relationship. His parents had only shown him dissipation and general f*cked-up-ness.

Christ. He scrubbed two hands over his face. Why was he even thinking about love with Grace? Or relationships? This had an expiration date. And it wasn’t like anything was possible between them even without one. They were from two different worlds. Might as well be different species.

Damn. He was obsessing. He needed to get out of here and get on with it all.

Pushing up from the couch, he strode to the kitchen. He didn’t care if it was late. He grabbed the phone and called his brother, pacing until Zane picked up. It sounded like he was at a party. Music and voices overlapped in the background.

“Hey, Reid. How’s it going out there?” Zane said in an overly loud voice.

“Fine. What’s the word, man? Heard from Sullivan?”

“Yeah, yeah. Talked to Sullivan. Honestly, he wasn’t too happy. He doesn’t think you’ve got the chops to see this thing through with the girl.”

“Zane, I need you to convince him.” Just like he needed all of this to end. This thing with Grace. Over. Sullivan? Yeah, he needed to finish that, too. It was the whole point. The reason he broke out—although too much of his head was wrapped up in the girl in the next room. He was starting to lose focus.