Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)

His phone dinged again and this time it was a text from his brother asking him to join them for dinner. With a disgusted snort he tossed the phone down on the couch. Good people. Nice people. He had too fucking many of them in his life. Strangely enough, things were easier when he was at the Rock and he didn’t have these types of people around him. When things were black and white and he knew where everyone stood—himself included.

He flipped through channels and found an old western he recognized as one of his uncle’s favorites. He dropped the remote and left the channel there, watching as bad guys and good guys shot at each other across an open range. Life was simple back then. You knew who the bad guys were. You knew who the good guys were. You were either one or the either. None of this bullshit.

He was halfway through the movie and on beer number five when a knock sounded at his door. He stared at it for a moment, not moving. His gut told him to stay where he was. Don’t move. Don’t get up.

He stood.

He didn’t bother looking through the peephole. Something told him who would be on the other side. It wasn’t rocket science for him to guess.

He opened the door to find Faith standing there, dressed in a soft-looking T-shirt with a faded Bullwinkle across the front. Her shorts did nothing to disguise the sexy slopes of her legs. Her eyes were luminous in the dark of his unlit porch.

“Hey.” She held up a plate of brownies. The rich chocolate aroma hit him full force and he was suddenly bombarded with the echoes of his childhood, of innocence. Before he’d destroyed everything.

“Brownies, huh? No scones.”

Uncertainty flashed across her face for a split second before she managed to smile at him. “Brownies are more a guy thing if I’m not mistaken.”

He tilted back his head and took a long slug of beer. Lowering his drink, he stared at her for a long while.

She shifted on her feet. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?” She lifted her chin a notch and he knew that her pride was on the line. It took her a lot to ask him that. This girl was not versed in one-night stands. She was not versed in men like him. He should do the right thing here. End things now before expectations set in and rooted. He knew that. He had planned to do that. Up until he opened this door and feasted eyes on her he would have.

He sucked in a deep breath, searching and digging for the words buried somewhere inside him where goodness and right still existed. Go. Get away. Leave me alone. Don’t come back.

Screw it. Tossing his well-intentioned plans aside, he seized her wrist and tugged her inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

He plucked the plate of brownies out of her hands and set both his beer and the plate on his countertop.

“What are you—” she started to ask.

Turning around, he took her face in both hands and pulled her toward him. “I’m interested in a different kind of dessert.”

He kissed her hard and fierce. She said something. Mumbled words fought between their lips, but he ignored them and kissed her harder—until she was panting and their hands were wild, groping and tearing them free of clothing.

When they were both fully naked, he grabbed her by the waist and plopped her on top of his kitchen table. Her wide eyes met his. “North . . .”

He heard the hesitation as clear as day in her voice. “You’re good, baby,” he assured her, ignoring the whisper in his head that told him to stop, to not do this again with her. To her.

He reached for his wallet inside his jeans and quickly removed a condom, watching her, naked and quivering on top of his kitchen table as he tore it open with his teeth. His hand gave the barest tremor as he rolled it down his aching cock. He reached for one of her small rose-tipped breasts. He fondled her roughly. First one perfect breast, then the other.

Her head dropped back and she released a keening moan. One glance down and he could see she was already glistening wet and ready for him. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. She was. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her toward him with a growl, until he was right there, poised and brushing against her sex. She choked out a sound that might have been a word. Her fingers grabbed him, nails scoring deep into his biceps as she urged him closer, her eyes so shining and radiant that he was certain he could find her in a room void of any light.

He couldn’t wait a moment longer. He plunged into her with no ease or delicacy. It was base and primal and hard, and exactly what he craved. Maybe what he had craved for years. It felt more satisfying than anything he’d been chasing, anything he’d had, except maybe the last time with her.

She screamed and dropped back on the table, her arms flung wide and outstretched above her head in abandon.