He inhaled a thin breath, wondering if this was what he had become. It was one of his worst fears. That the Rock had made him into a monster that destroyed those softer than him.
She released a breathy little laugh that didn’t exactly scream you--animal--get--the--hell--away--from--me. “Well, that was one way to wake up, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, shit, Briar.” He reached out a hand to touch her and then dropped it at his side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—-”
“Why are you apologizing? I wanted it, too. I didn’t tell you to stop. I didn’t say no.”
I didn’t say no.
He tried to take comfort in that. He did, but he wondered . . . would he have heard her if she had? Bile rose in his throat because he wasn’t sure. He hated himself right then. How could he be . . . this? It became painstakingly clear to him that he needed to get as far as possible from Briar Davis. Before he fucked up her life as much as he had his own. He dragged both hands over his skull.
She sighed then, looking so calm when he was losing his shit. “I guess the whole no condom thing was reckless,” she admitted, and that’s when he heard the shakiness in her voice. She wasn’t as composed as he thought.
“I’m clean, Briar,” he sought to reassure her—-of at least that one thing he could reassure her. “I don’t use drugs . . . I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time.” It felt like forever. Because the last time he was with a girl, he had been that other person. A boy. The Knox Callaghan of another life. Another world and time. That Knox Callaghan might have been good enough for the likes of Briar Davis. He could have asked her out and taken her on an actual date. The kind of thing that good -people did. Guys that didn’t kill. Guys that didn’t spend the better part of a decade penned up like an animal.
She hesitated. “Really?”
He sucked in a breath and admitted what she needed to hear. What she deserved to hear. “I haven’t been with anyone since I went in. When I was twenty. And I didn’t have sex while I was in there either.” It was necessary to state. Plenty of guys did. Both willingly and unwillingly.
“Wait . . . so you’ve been out for almost two months now?”
“Yeah.”
“And you haven’t . . .” She couldn’t hide the incredulity from her voice or the widening of her eyes in the gloom of her room.
“Why is that such a surprise? I didn’t sleep with anyone for eight years. What’s another two months?” He detected her shock in the long pause of silence. He reached out and pushed the hair back off her shoulder. “I went a long time without. Figured I might as well wait for something good.” Something other than a quickie with someone he just met. “And you were very good . . . Nurse Davis.”
A dark shadow crept over her cheeks and he knew she was blushing.
His levity slipped, remembering that it had been so good that he didn’t even use a condom just now. “But I shouldn’t have done that. Not like that.”
“According to my menstruation app, this isn’t even the time of the month when I’m most fertile,” she said quickly, like speaking the words fast made it somehow less embarrassing. She reached for the comforter as though recalling her nakedness. He watched hungrily as she pulled the covers over her, hiding her body from his eyes. That would be his last glimpse of all those curves, and that knowledge filled him with an ache. A longing that shot straight to his cock. He felt himself harden all over again and knew he had to get the hell away from her. Fast. Before he lost control again and she was too sweet and obliging to deny him.
“It’s not likely . . .” she hedged.
Not likely. He supposed she would know about that better than anyone. She was a nurse and it was her body, but he still wasn’t proud of himself, and he still wasn’t okay with what happened. No matter how much he’d reveled in her . . . bare--skinned. No matter how much he wanted to lose himself in her again, he couldn’t.
She was as bad for him as he was for her. Around her, he lost control. And he needed to be in control. Losing control was what got him in prison. And he had vowed to never make that mistake again.
He stood up from the bed and reached for his clothes. He dressed in the dark, watching her watch him. Emotion flickered over her gaze. She was so transparent. Wore her emotions like a badge on her face. It made her all the more enticing. She wasn’t hard to read. He didn’t have to wonder what she felt or thought. Unlike everyone else he had been around in the last eight years. Always distrusting them. Always second--guessing.
She looked wounded. And that only made him feel like a bigger bastard. He pulled his shirt back on and then stood there, his hands hanging at his sides, empty, bereft.
“You’re going.” Not a question. Just a simple statement. She lifted her chin as though his leaving her in the middle of the night didn’t bother her in the least. As though he hadn’t just screwed her and was now running for the door. No, it wasn’t a huge fuck--you at all.
“I should go.”