Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(15)

His pulse beat a tempo inside his ears. He heard the door shut as though from someplace far away. Still, he could not move. He was strung so tight, a wire on the verge of snapping, everything twisting. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he battled for control.

“They’re gone,” she whispered. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. He tracked the movement of that tongue, something molten-hot curling through him at the sight of it. The last time he’d held a female in his arms, he hadn’t known anything. He was just a kid, barely out of high school. He took f*cking for granted. At twenty, he certainly hadn’t thought to absorb the fact that Monica and Gaby, the sisters who lived in his trailer park—or the occasional party hookups—would be his last taste of intimacy.

“They didn’t turn the lights off,” she added into the stretch of hovering silence.

He found his voice, shoving thoughts of how, if he had the chance, he would take his time and savor every moment of having a woman in his arms. A woman like her. “I know.”

Her eyes were russet, a brown several shades lighter than the long blue-black hair twisting all around her.

The lights were still on, and that was the problem. He could see her. Feel her. He exhaled thinly through his nose, commanding himself to roll off her. Disengage.

“Reid?”

The sound of his name jolted him. Maybe it was the gentle sound of her voice, so cultured and well-enunciated.

Or maybe it was just her saying his name.

He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t be doing this . . . shouldn’t enjoy the feel of her so much that hot need started to gather and pull at the base of his spine. He just came from a place that demanded he feed those needs. Take. Claim. That was the order of things in prison. He couldn’t do that, though. Not with her. Not like this.

He launched himself off her, sending the box of condoms his brother left him tumbling to the floor. With a curse, he crossed the room.

Her gasp told him she was watching him walk away and not missing the fact that he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

He flipped off the light, instantly drowning them in darkness again. For a moment he stood motionless, bowing his head, his fingers still on the switch. His cock jutted out hard and aching, hungry for action and not in agreement with his thoughts. He resisted the urge to take hold of his dick in the dark and give it a deep stroke. That wouldn’t help. It would only increase his torment, because there would be no release.

Lifting his head, he inhaled and forced nonsexy thoughts into his head, He imagined roadkill and what flesh-eating bacteria could do to a body.

“They won’t bother us again tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick.

He said the words to reassure her, but they rang almost ominously on the air. When he made his way to the bed and settled on the mattress, it was to find that she had scooted to the edge, as far away from him as possible. Smart girl. With her scent tangled around him and the memory of her skin against his, his erection showed no signs of waning.

It was going to be a long night.





Six




Grace woke to darkness.

Everything felt wrong. The feel of the bed; the quiet sounds and smells. The air felt different on her skin, heavy and vaporous as fog. She felt disconnected. Almost like she was inside someone else’s body. As though it wasn’t her lying there, but another person.

There was a prolonged moment of confusion as her mind floundered, trying to grasp where she was.

She was chest down, her cheek pressed flat into a mattress, her breath a persistent scratch against a wall of cotton. She flexed her fingers, feathering the tips, verifying the bed under her. She shifted, stretching her torso, a little startled at the sensation of sheets against her bare skin, rasping her breasts and pebbling her nipples awake.

A warm weight covered her hip. She shifted again, testing its pressure, too uncertain to reach out and touch it for herself.

Then it moved. Fingers. A hand. She wasn’t alone in the bed.

Everything flooded back in a blazing rush. Her stomach bottomed out.

She’d been abducted and was in bed with one of her kidnappers. Reid. The good-looking one who claimed he would keep her safe. Good-looking. Ha. That was a tame description for him. He looked like he’d stepped right out of Sons of Anarchy. She watched the television series in hotel rooms and on the plane, escaping the grinding routine of events and functions Holly dragged her to one after another.

It was dangerous thinking. Comparing him to a hot actor on a television show. He was real. And dangerous. She didn’t need to confuse him with some fictional character. He might be sexy, but he didn’t possess some hidden code of honor. If he were truly good, he would get her out of this awful place—or at least promise that he would help her escape. None of those reassurances were forthcoming. He’d rather vaguely said he would keep her safe, but she was still here. How safe could she be?

His voice rolled across the space between them and hit the back of her neck like tendrils of hot smoke. “How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?”

She exhaled and rolled flat on her back, accepting that she couldn’t feign unconsciousness. He could probably hear the pounding drum of her heart.

He didn’t move his hand. It stayed on her hip.

“What time is it?” she whispered.

“Close to dawn.” His hand felt like a searing brand even without exerting any pressure.