“I’m fine,” she said, trying to regain her composure . . . and some restraint.
He angled his head, his eyes sharp and glinting in the near dark. “Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink.”
“Maybe I have,” she agreed, holding his gaze. “But no worries. I have a designated driver.”
He snorted. “Your designated driver doesn’t appear in much better condition than you.”
“Is that why you dragged me back here?” she challenged. “Because you’re worried I’ve been drinking too much?”
He glanced away then, staring somewhere into the darkness before looking back down at her. “What are you doing here, Briar?” He sounded tired, and she was the reason for that. “Why are you . . .” His voice faded, but she understood. She knew what he was asking.
Why was she coming around him?
It was a good question and she didn’t know the answer. She couldn’t explain why she lost all sense of pride when it came to him. There was only need.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she whispered, her voice sounding as anguished as she felt over that fact.
His eyes gleamed almost black in the poorly lit room, and then whatever light she saw there suddenly banked itself. A fire snuffed out. He was Callaghan again. Prison inmate. “We can’t do this, Briar.”
She nodded jerkily, a stupid lump forming in her throat . . . emotion . . . hurt that she didn’t want to feel. “Yeah. Okay.”
She started to move past him, but he stopped her, clasping her shoulder and putting her back against the wall. He locked his jaw, tension feathering along the tight skin, just beneath the scruff that she wanted to stroke.
She shook her head, staring at him helplessly. “You haven’t come by my place. Not since—-” She stopped, but he knew what she meant to say. Not since she told him she wasn’t pregnant.
His voice cut hard through the stillness of the room. “Is this what you want from me?” He seized her hand and pressed it against his cock. She gasped, feeling him swell against her fingers. She tried to pull free, but he held fast. “Because this is all I’ve got. All I can give, Briar. Sex. Meaningless fucks.” He pushed her hand harder against him, moving her up and down his erection. “Now tell me to go to hell. Tell me to fuck off.” He paused, his gaze flicking over her face. “Say it.”
She stared at him, her heart pounding in her too tight chest.
His head dipped, lips a hairbreadth from her mouth. “Say it,” he whispered harshly. “Say you don’t want me.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “No.”
TWENTY
IN THE NEAR dark, Briar’s eyes glowed amber fire. No. She had said no. The single word rocked him. He dropped her hand like it scalded him. Only she didn’t remove her hand from his cock right away. No, she kept it there, palming him before dropping away. Knox bit back a groan.
Heat crept over her face, shadowing the apples of her cheeks, and that made his stomach clench. He’d been inside her but she still blushed like a girl on her first date. She was still so sweet and untainted. Even after him.
She was a contrast to everything he was . . . everything he had lived through, and he wanted to pull her in and have her. Again and again until he killed that need. Until he stopped wanting her so much.
He cleared his throat. “It’s better if you go.” Better for her. Better for him, too.
God knows the impulse to keep her, take her, was there, pounding through him. She had become a craving, an addiction. A compulsion as necessary as food. He thought once would have been enough to break the habit. Then he could move on. But here she was and he still felt it.
“So we’re done, then?” She looked so purposeful as she asked this. Like it took everything in her to school her features and voice into total blandness.
He glanced away and then back to her again—-like he needed a break from looking at her with her face all made--up and her hair wild and flowing. Like a woman ready to party. And there were a lot of men out there that would be more than willing to party with her once he set her free from this room.
Something swift and visceral rose up in him at that possibility. He knew she hadn’t been into the greasy--haired punk, but it wouldn’t be long before she was into someone else. Before she was with someone else. He curled his hands into fists at his sides to stop from reaching for her, to stop himself from burying his fingers in that wild hair and dragging her painted mouth to his.
“Yeah, we’re done,” he lashed out. “I can’t make it any more clear for you.”
She flinched before recovering. “So that’s it.” Her jaw locked and something glinted in her eyes that should have warned him. Should have told him she wasn’t done. Her hand came between them and cupped his dick again. “This has had enough of me, then?”
A hissed breath escaped him.