Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)

He held up the hose. “So . . . you want me to finish the windows?”

She jabbed a finger at him. “Keep that hose away from my house. As a matter of fact, you stay away from my house.” He turned and glanced at the duplex, his sweeping gaze seeming to convey how hard that would be to manage when their homes were conjoined. She accused, “You ruined my date!”

“Did I?” he asked mildly.

“Don’t look at me like you don’t know.” She dropped her fists to her hips. “Don’t act like you didn’t do this on purpose.”

North scratched his jaw and glanced out at the street where Brendan had just beat a hasty retreat. A wave of defeat swelled over her. She followed his gaze. Fabulous. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be, but North had no business interfering.

He made a tsking sound. “I didn’t expect him to turn tail so easily. Honestly, Faith. You could do better.”

She saw red. “I agree.” Stepping forward, she shoved him in the chest. “So do me a favor. Stop interfering and let me find him.” For good measure, and because she was that mad, she shoved him again.

His features turned stony. “Don’t do that.”

“What? This?” She did it again, hoping to annoy him as much as he annoyed her.

He growled, “I said stop—”

“What are you going to do about it?” She stepped nearer, thrusting her face closer.

“You don’t know who you’re tangling with—”

“Oh, yeah? Show me,” she challenged.

He laughed roughly. “You’re a fool. It’s like you want to get hurt. Is that it?”

For a moment she actually considered what he was saying, but despite how mad she was at him right now, she had never been afraid of him. “I’m not an idiot. You won’t hurt me.”

He sobered. “Oh, baby. That’s what I do to people.”

She felt his voice like a feather stroking down her body. Crazy considering the words he was saying were not the least bit seductive. Shaking her head, her voice shuddered past her lips. “I don’t believe that.”

“No?” His hand shot out to circle the back of her neck, hauling her flush against him. “You’re fucking wrong.” His thumb stroked her throat in tantalizing brushes. “That’s all I know . . . how to ruin things.”

She wet her lips. Glancing down, she stared at where their bodies were mashed together tightly. Close. Still not close enough. She wanted . . . she wanted.

His heart beat hard against her. She moistened her lips and before she could consider what she was doing, she said the words that popped in her head. “Then ruin me.”





TWENTY-THREE




The offer hovered between them like a great big swelling balloon.

His eyes dilated, the deep brown darkening nearly as black as his irises. Not a sound passed between them. The air in her lungs froze, trapped.

Did she really just say that?

She opened her mouth to retract the words, to pop that balloon, to say anything to take them away or erase what she had just said. But no sound escaped.

His big hands dropped to span her waist. “You want me to ruin you?” His gravelly voice rolled over her. “I can do that.”

She squeaked as he lifted her up off the ground. Before she realized his intent, he was carrying her into her house. He walked them right through the front door, kicking it shut behind them.

He plopped her on her kitchen table. She was suddenly intensely grateful that she’d purchased a high kitchen table. They fit perfectly. He wedged his body between her thighs, his hands sliding up the outsides and under her skirt.

“Nice skirt.” He lifted his head to look her over. Reaching between them, he flipped the silky flounce along her collar. “And blouse. You dress like this for him?”

“I dressed like this for . . . a date.”

“You look expensive. Untouchable.” His gaze left a blistering trail as it roamed over her. “Not the kind of girl I usually touch.”

But he had touched her. And then he said he wouldn’t again. But he was now. So what were they doing? She didn’t know how to respond. Her chest was too tight, an invisible fist squeezing her lungs. Fortunately, he didn’t seem concerned with her reply. His hands kept moving, fingers diving under the outer edge of her panties, skimming along her hips and down to the crease between her thighs and crotch.

“So tell me about it.” Gripping her hips, he yanked her closer, dragging her against the front of him, where his member already bulged against rough denim.

“About what?”

“Your date.” The drawl of his deep voice scraped over her. “Did he kiss you? Touch you here?” He cupped her sex, his palm searing hot over her folds.

She opened her mouth and made a gurgling sound. She couldn’t even form coherent words when he was touching her.

His thumb dipped, tracing the seam of her lips.

She gasped sharply.

“So slick,” he said thickly.

And she was already wet. Embarrassingly so.

His thumb parted her, pressing into her wetness, easing a fraction inside her.

“Your bedroom?” He jerked his head toward the staircase.