Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)

“I know you enough to know that. Some people are messed up. Sick. They don’t deserve to be a parent . . . they don’t even deserve their freedom.”

“I guess you would know about that.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Did you deserve to be put away?”

“Yeah. I got what I deserved. And this guy who hurt you . . . he needs to get what he deserves, too. For being a shitty parent, you lose your kid. For attacking you . . .” His voice faded for a moment. She knew what he was thinking right then. She knew he was remembering what he did to Mason Leary.

“I’m sure there will be a restraining order on him come morning. My brother will see to it. Not that he’ll be out of jail yet. Knowing my brother, he’ll be in there for a while.”

“Handy having law enforcement on your side.”

“Not as handy as having you next door, it would seem.”

He released a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “You moving in next door has been interesting, too.”

She sensed that he had turned his head on the pillow and was looking at her. Not seeing her, but looking at her.

He continued, “I haven’t texted this much since I got my phone two years ago.”

She snorted. “I’m sure that’s not true. You with the endless booty calls.” Even as she said this, she realized she hadn’t heard him with anyone in a while.

“Yeah, been kind of in a drought since you moved in though.”

Ha. So what . . . almost two weeks? “What’s going on with the lovely Serena?”

The bed shifted as he rolled onto his side. “I wouldn’t know.”

Pleasure suffused her at this admission—even though she knew she shouldn’t care. It didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything.

She rolled onto her side, too. She felt the soft fan of his breath on her face. She tucked her hands under her cheek. “You stopped holding my hand,” she murmured and even to her own ears her voice sounded almost coy.

His eyes gleamed like black pennies in the dark. “What are you doing, Faith?”

Her heart thundered against her ribs. “Just . . . talking.”

“I’m not going to touch you again.”

“Why not?” she shot back.

“Because that would lead to other things and tonight isn’t the night for that.”

“Why not? Tonight feels like the perfect night for that. I almost died.” She propped herself up on her elbow. “Maybe I need you to remind me that I’m alive.”

He didn’t respond and she knew she’d made a valid point. He was thinking. She decided to push her advantage. She leaned forward, unsure exactly where she was headed until she felt her nose brush his jaw. She dove in closer, ducking into the crook of his neck. She pressed her open mouth to his throat, letting her teeth scrape the salty-clean flesh. Her tongue laved the velvet of his skin, tasting, exploring the texture with undulating licks of her tongue that would probably leave a mark.

She inched up to his ear, breathing into the whorls, “I want to taste you everywhere.”

He growled and before she realized his intent, he flipped her on her back. Then he was over her. “Be careful what you wish for, Faith.”

Her hands grasped him by his sides, tugging him toward her.

“No,” he bit. “I’ll give you what you want. I’ll remind you that you’re alive, but it’s happening my way.”

She nodded hastily. Whatever that meant, whatever he had to give, she would gladly take. Just the sensation of him over her, his big body wedged between her thighs, set her afire. He pulled back slightly, knocking their blankets aside. Snatching the waistband of her shorts he slid them down her legs in one smooth motion.

“I dreamed of these,” he growled, his hands skimming up the outside of her calves and then roaming over her thighs. He slid down between her knees, pushing her thighs wide to make room for his head and shoulders.

“Let me taste you,” he murmured, seduction dripping in every word. His fingers grazed the outside of her knees in teasing circles that made her limbs shake. He turned his face to trail kisses along the inside of her thighs, his tongue darting out to lick. His teeth occasionally biting and nipping.

Her hands lifted above her head and grabbed fistfuls of pillow. She arched, noisy pants escaping her, broken by the occasional yip.

With a groan, he crawled above her and latched onto a nipple through the thin cotton of her tank. She felt the perfect prod of his cock through his briefs, poking and thrusting into her bare sex, only a barrier of cotton separating them and saving her from direct penetration.

“North, please,” she begged.

“Please, what?” he asked, his mouth talking around the aching nipple he was working with his tongue, lips and teeth.

“Fuck me!”

He bucked harder against her and ground his erection against her weeping sex. “Oh, you’re soaking for me, baby.”