Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(59)

She nodded, the lump still there but not nearly as choking. “It’s just . . .” She searched for the words carefully. “It’s not going to go well for you.”

This news didn’t particularly rock him. He shrugged one shoulder. “This was never going to end well for me. I never planned on that.” His thumb slid down her cheek. “And I never planned on you.” His look was so intent and devouring as he uttered this that something inside her let go. Cracked and released. Another bit of her heart broke off and fell into his hands. “We don’t have a lot of time together, so let’s not spend it talking about this.”

The truth of that went down in a bitter wash. This wasn’t forever. He was destined for prison—or worse. And she had her own life waiting for her.

Stupidly, the backs of her eyes started to burn, and she buried her face in his chest. He was right. She was going to grab happiness with both hands. Seize her life. That’s what she had vowed to do when she got out of here. It wasn’t too early to start living that creed now. Even if this was destined to end, she would revel in the moment.

“Hey.” He brought her face up again.

She blinked, determined that she wasn’t going to cry. His scrutiny only made it worse. She knew he could see the emotion storming her features.

He shook his head, smiling tenderly as he threaded his fingers through her hair. “God, you’re beautiful.”

A hiccup of unexpected laughter escaped her. Heat crept up her face, and she fought the impulse to refute the compliment. “Maybe you’re just not that particular,” she teased. “You have been in prison for eleven years.”

“I know beautiful when I see it.” He ran a thumb over her lips. “‘The curves of your lips rewrite history’.”

She smiled against his tracing fingers, her chest swelling in awe, blown away at how this man, who should be coarse and unrefined, said such beautiful things to her—about her. “Where’s that from?”

“Oscar Wilde. Never quite understood it before. Makes sense to me now. These lips . . . they do that for me. You do. You make everything somehow different. Even the past.”

Except not different enough. Not enough to sway him from revenge. She fought back that bitter thought, not wanting to ruin the moment. He made it clear he would go after Sullivan. She would cling to now. She would have this with him—these precious moments.

Her fingers played against his chest, loving the texture of his skin, so smooth, but also scarred in places. “You read Oscar Wilde? Is he popular in prison?”

“Smartass.” His chest purred under her fingers and she grinned. “No. I read Dorian Gray.”

She sent him a curious look. “In high school?” She didn’t know how else he would know Oscar Wilde unless he’d studied him there. It wasn’t exactly popular reading.

“In college. I got a degree through correspondence. Eleven years is a long time.” He shrugged. “Figured I might as well do something with my time.”

Stunned, she gaped at him.

“Try not to look so shocked,” he said dryly.

She shook her head. “What’s your degree in?”

“English. Figured why not? In prison, books were one thing I had access to. I might as well learn more about them.”

She processed this, still marveling at the levels to this man.

“What about you, college girl? What did you study?” His fingers stroked up and down on her hip drowsily.

“I have a degree in astronomy.”

“Wow. Look at the brains on you.”

“Stop.” She shoved at his shoulder. “I wanted to go to grad school but my father put a stop to that. He needed me. In the beginning, for his first campaign. Then he needed me during his first term. Now he needs me as we roll into his re-election campaign.”

“And what about you? What do you need?”

No one had ever asked her that before. The fact that he did, this escaped convict, her captor . . . it made her wonder if everything she had ever thought about the world, about life, was wrong. Because everything she had ever been taught should have led her to believe that Reid was a waste of space.

The realization shook her, and for a moment she couldn’t think of a response. Shaking off her stupor, she crawled over him, loving how small she felt over the great size of him. “Orgasms,” she teased, desperate for levity. “I need those.” She splayed both hands over his chest and centered herself, thrilled to feel him stirring beneath her.

He smiled up at her, showing off his rare dimples. “Is that so?”

She nodded cheerfully, pushing up and positioning herself so that her sex rested directly over his swelling manhood.

“Well. Coincidentally, I happen to be very good at giving orgasms.” He tucked his hands behind his head as though he had all the time in the world, and looked up at her with smiling eyes. The sight of him like this did funny things to her heart. He was smoking hot any day of the week, but like this, smiling, he was devastating.

“Really?” She nodded in mock seriousness, tsking her tongue. “That’s very good to know, considering that I’m in such dire need.”

“Interesting,” he mused, rocking his hips lightly and bumping her sex. Her lips parted on a small gasp. “Don’t tell me your fiancé falls short in that arena.”