Knight (105 page)

He reserved that frown for me. I liked it too.

“What’d you do to him?” He dragged the words from reluctant lips.

“He probably hasn’t been riding these past few days.”

“Humping an ice pack?”

“Can’t be as fun as the real thing.”

Brew averted his gaze, ensuring the door was locked. As if he hadn’t already double-checked both the bolt and the chain. I sighed.

He must’ve flirted at some point. He wasn’t anywhere close to my age, but what kind of a life approached forty and gave up the will to tease?

I smiled. He ignored it.

Was this how was going to be?

One mistake, one horrible revelation, and we trapped ourselves in an awkward cycle of denial?

I wanted his help, and I wanted to help him. His protection kept me safe, but I needed more. I was tired of feeling weak and used. And maybe it was my own stupid judgment, but I hoped Brew could eventually heal me. No more risks with men who controlled me with their fists. I deserved a
real
connection.

With him.

“We can’t keep doing this,” I said.

He knew what I meant and refused to respond. “We’ll only stay here a day. But these are better digs that I’m used to.”

“That’s reassuring.” I perked my eyebrow. “There bars on the window.”

“I’ve slept behind those too.”

“Well, who hasn’t?”

He snorted. “Have you?”

I smirked. “I’m cute as a button and have a killer rack. You think I ever overnighted in a cell?”

“Now that should be illegal.”

“Does it ever bother you?”

He shrugged. “I could have given the warden head. You’re not the only one with a nice ass, Darling, but I have my standards.”

“I wasn’t talking about the deficiencies in our legal system.” I wish I hadn’t giggled. “I mean being on the run. Does it bother you?”

“It would, but there’s nothing for me at home.”

He switched from silence to blistering honesty in a moment. The brutal truth in his words startled me, but it was more than I had gotten from him in days. I braved a step closer.

“You don’t believe that.”

“I don’t have to believe it. I got nothing there.”

“You have family.”

He sat on the bed but didn’t try to sink into his thoughts. I slid before him at eye-level, just out of reach.

“My family doesn’t want me.” He no longer shielded himself with the heavy, gruff bite of his words. But that didn’t make them hurt any less, for him or me.

“They need you, Brew.”

“There’s only one thing I can do for them. Once that’s done, it’s over. I won’t be responsible for their misery anymore.”

“Maybe they’re miserable without you?”

Brew met my gaze. “My brother is addicted to the drugs I forced into his system. He either gets another dime or he finds the strength to break the last needle before it breaks him. If I go back there, I’d enable him, like I did before. I’ll end up killing him.”

“And Rose?”

He flinched when I said her name. “She’s better off with Thorne.”

“She loves you.”

“She always was a bad judge of character.”

“We’ll probably get along then.”

His jaw hardened. I poked the bear, but instead of backing off, I stepped closer. He rolled his shoulder, stretching out the ache. I didn’t have a heating pad or ice pack to help him, but he liked the pain. He used it to remember just why he was riding, what he lost when he left.

“One day you’ll be able to go back,” I said.

“She deserves better.”

“She deserves her brother.”

He groaned and tried to get up. “I’m not—”

I pushed him down. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

It was a bad idea, but I moved closer to him until I was lost in the masculine spice of his scent. Sweat and leather and strength.

I shouldn’t have stood so close.

I shouldn’t have looked into his eyes.

“Please forgive yourself,” I whispered.

“I can’t.”

“Let me forgive you.”

“I don’t need a confession.”

“Then why are you looking for absolution?” I brushed my hand along his cheek. He didn’t push me away. “You act like you have one foot in the grave and the other already in hell. Don’t give up yet.”

“What am I supposed to do? It’s my fault—”

“It’s nobody’s fault but your father’s. He abused Rose, and now he’s killing you. Whether it’s dumping your bike on the highway or making deals with the wrong MC, you’re doing everything you can to punish yourself. And you don’t have to.”

“And you?” His fingers moved, just a twitch, only a warning. “The guys you’re with? The men you follow? I’m no better than Goliath.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Goliath might be a bastard, but if you knew the things I’ve done? Ain’t no way you lock yourself in a hotel with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not exciting unless I don’t know where the games end and the danger begins. You start telling me your secrets, I’d be helpless to resist you.”

“You really wanna hear my secrets?”

“Do you want to confess them?”

He hesitated, his eyes darkening like the last trace of smoke from a once raging fire. “I don’t want to admit anything that makes me a man like my father.”

I dropped my guarded tease. “And I don’t want to keep playing games I’ve rigged to lose.”

Now he did touch me. His fingers encircled me, bringing me closer, teasing me into his embrace. I edged between his legs, and his voice rumbled against my skin, warming my neck where his lips parted and gently brushed.

His teeth nipped, but he didn’t hurt me. Not yet.

“I’m afraid of what I’ll do to you,” he warned.

“I am afraid I’ll like it.”

Honesty was the only way to get close to him, but being honest with myself? That was truly frightening.

I finally understood exactly what I wanted, but trusting myself to let it happen was impossible.

Brew was perfect for me. He was strong, sexy, and he deserved the control I offered Goliath.

But I gave that control up too quickly, and I accepted the consequences like I never had a choice.

Brew would never hurt me. It’d be my own bad decisions doing it for him.

It didn’t change how I felt about him. I’d hide who I was, pretend like his authority didn’t overwhelm me. I’d fight my every natural urge to surrender to him. But I couldn’t be without
him
.

Day after day of danger and stress and fear destroyed my confidence. Brew was the only man who could make me feel safe again. And while I preferred that protection taken, thrust within me, reminded with the beat of his heart and the weight of his fist over my neck, just standing before Brew chased away my terror.

Our desire was a game of Russian roulette. I didn’t know where the bullet was. I didn’t even know who held the gun. Every languishing heartbeat I spent staring into his eyes was as dangerous as any high-speed chase, especially since we had no idea where we were going or what we’d find when we got there.

I fell into his embrace.

If I was going to go down, I preferred losing myself to him.

At least this way, I’d ruin myself with pleasure instead of pain.

Brew didn’t move. He had more control than I did, even sitting perfectly still, silent and waiting. My arms curled around his neck, and my fingers played in the dark, grey speckled curl of his hair. He was so much older than me. Just another of my mistakes. Thirteen years was a big difference, but it wasn’t our ages that separated us. He lived every day tempting death. His soul was tortured, his mind broken with guilt, and his life forsaken as he thought he survived only to steal the life of another.

And I was no better. I used him to bury my own problems. I’d never feel
safe
. I’d hide from the world and myself for a few hours. In his arms. In his passion.

“Darling—” He whispered. “Don’t start something you’re gonna regret.”

“I’ll regret it if I don’t try.”

My lips met his, and the soft grace of my kiss asked and apologized and begged for anything he was willing to give.

He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t move. His fingers clutched the comforter.

“I don’t trust myself,” he said.

“But I do.”

He kissed me back, not nearly as hard as our disastrous time before. The gentle, tender motion wasn’t what either of us wanted. But it was what we needed.

I parted my lips, allowing the flick of my tongue to taste his. I wasn’t teasing. The touch was a genuine exploration, so innocent I flushed with more than excitement.

I never kissed anybody like that before.

I never let myself feel the intimacy of wrapping in another’s arms. Lips weren’t meant to kiss, not from my past. They gave pleasure, but they never received. They never parted in a sweet gasp. The trail of his attention took refuge in the hollow of my throat. The scratch of his unshaven chin combated the soothing trance of his lips.

His kiss shattered my strength. I clutched at Brew, but I didn’t fear the strike of a hand or a belt. He never intimidated me that way. My body heated, melted, and reformed just for his hands.

I never met anyone powerful enough to control me without moving, without growling a command, without touching me. I wasn’t a hopeless romantic. I was a realist. If his kiss was strong enough to bind me with gentle devotion, I’d be lost before our skin even touched.

“We don’t have to do this.” His voice rasped a heavy promise.

I answered with a foolish kiss, murmuring my own affirmations against his lips. He gave me a chance.

Giving in was a mistake. I couldn’t let him take me over so completely.

But pulling away hurt more than any strike to my skin. Every nerve screamed with heat, and he was my only relief from the agony.

My confidence lay quiet and confused, letting my desire command me. The only way I’d survive a night with Brew was if we did it my way. Deny my lust and silence the part of me that demanded I offer him everything.

I’d refuse my own nature for a chance to be with him.

My shirt tossed onto the bed. I didn’t let him mourn the fading bruises over my skin, not when my greatest pain came from my proximity to him. The bra followed. My cheeks and chest flushed before I even pulled the material from my body.

He didn’t reach for me. That was fine. He wasn’t going to lead this time.

I’d take the pleasure for myself.

His expression hardened—a determination that fought to keep him still. I eased his shirt over his shoulder, gently skimming his muscles and injuries with a curious touch. The pain toughened him. His body built for pure aggression and sustained itself on the blood it spilled, but the injury hadn’t slowed him. Only the flowering tattoo coiling in ivy and blossoms tortured him.

I lowered my hand over the scar. His fingers tightened on the blanket. He tensed to rip me away. He stayed still instead.

“I want you.” My declaration meant more to me than any false plea I ever spoke. I didn’t need a coy
sir
or humble
please
to express everything I felt.

“You got me, Darling.”

“I want
all
of you.”

Brew shook his head. “You’ll never get that side of me. I don’t trust it, and neither should you.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

He allowed himself a chance to study my body, his gaze lingering on my buttoned jeans.

“You won’t give into that part of yourself either,” he said.

He was right. I didn’t answer.

I followed his eyes, tangling my fingers over my jeans. The denim inched down over my thighs, and the revealed taste of my creamy skin darkened Brew’s expression.

I knew what he imagined. I imagined it too. Pale skin, flushed red with the strike of a hand or the lick of the belt.

Sex had always been about pain. A punishment for my desire, excitement drowning in lust, and what I thought was a natural way to express my enthusiasm.

Tonight would be…different. Tonight would be pleasurable. Relieving. Necessary.

My jeans tangled on the floor. The lacy pink slip of my panties fell next. It was the second time I exposed myself to Brew. My stomach knotted in wanting and fear, but I had to try.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

My hand fluttered to my neck, lingering over the scarf I didn’t dare remove. His eyes darkened.

“There too, Darling. There’s not an inch of you that doesn’t make me ache.”

My relief flushed me, excited. I resisted the urge to dive into his arms, to press my revealed skin against his ink. My eyes drifted down. So did his.

I never removed a man’s pants before, not without his permission. Undressing a lover only served as an opportunity to degrade me on my knees.

Brew didn’t demand anything from me. He didn’t ask or order or force. He let me. I’d enjoy every moment of my exploration.

It didn’t surprise me that the tattoos on his chest bled below his belt. Stripes of blackened, aggressive ink etched into his legs, below his navel, and engraved a promise of strength at the base of his thick, hardened cock.

I wasn’t a stranger to that part of the man, but Brew was different. Every man used his cock to brag. Some used theirs to hurt. Brew didn’t need either. His confidence was earned, gifted from a hardness that bordered on intimidating.

His was a cock that deserved to be sucked. Worshiped. Goliath earned his name, but he retained it by acting as the brute. I doubted Brew ever had to force anyone to give him pleasure.

In another time, with another uninhibited part of me, I might’ve shown him exactly how appreciative I was to finally enjoy that part of him.

But not tonight.

Brew was built to take. I had no doubt of the pleasure he’d give or the damage he’d do, and I hated myself for being excited by both prospects. He still hadn’t moved. Only the thickness of his cock twitched, raging with the need to bury itself within me.

I expected him to grab me by the hips and drive me down hard and fast with an unrepentant, feral enthusiasm. But his grip punished only the comforter. He said nothing, and he refused to act on any of his urges.

And I was absolutely grateful.

My stomach twisted, but it wasn’t like I had never been naked before a man. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t experienced the moment right before offering myself to one.