God, what he must have suffered growing up, what he must have seen and heard.

He led her up a short set of stairs and into a big open kitchen. In fact, when he flicked on the lights, the whole place appeared to be open plan. Big comfy couch and chairs, huge TV mounted on the wall. The kind of furniture you’d expect in a bachelor pad. Windows made up the entire front wall, looking out to the ocean. They weren’t close to the beach, they were on the beach. If she opened the doors and stepped outside, her feet would sink into sand. There was a surfboard propped against the wall by sliding doors, sand scattered on the floor around it.

“You surf?”

“Yeah. You want a drink, something to eat?” He was still in the kitchen, watching her take in his place. She couldn’t read the expression on his face because he’d shut everything down, making sure not to expose a damn thing.

“Is that how you broke your nose?”

“Nope.” His gaze remained locked on hers, telling her to leave it and answering her question all at once.

Her stomach lurched. Oh, God. His father did that to him? Another wave of guilt, of shame, over her initial judgment of him hit hard.

“I picked up fresh pasta from Connie earlier, it’ll only take a few minutes to cook if you’re hungry.”

“I’m good for now.” He opened the fridge and held up a soda. “Thanks.”

Grabbing two, he joined her in the living room, and they sat on the couch. He opened her drink and handed it to her. His fingers brushed hers and a zing of awareness skated up her arm.

His dark hair was no longer in a knot at the back of his head, it’d come loose during the scuffle with his father and had obviously been short at some point because it was different layers.

Lifting his bottle, he took a long pull, tattooed throat working as he polished off half his drink. His lips were shiny when he finished, and she wanted to taste them, badly. She wanted to make him forget everything that had happened earlier, wipe away all the anger, all the pain he thought he was hiding.

He was staring out at the ocean, picking unconsciously at the label on his drink. “I’m sorry you had to see that, with my old man…”

She reached out, rested her hand on the inside of his strong, corded forearm, over the thick-edged star tattoo there, and gave him a squeeze. “You don’t need to apologize to me. It wasn’t you acting that way.” The muscle under her fingers bunched hard as stone. “I can only imagine what it must have been like for you, when you were a kid…”

“I kicked him out.” He sat forward, elbows resting on his knees, bottle dangling from his fingers between his legs. “When I was seventeen, when I was strong enough to throw him out and keep him out. I had a full-time job by then, which meant I could take over most of the expenses.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I think he gets so wasted he forgets.”

Jesus. “I’m sorry…”

Shooting to his feet, he took a step back. He didn’t look at her, continued to stare out at the ocean. “I should take you home.” He placed his drink on the table and crossed his arms over his wide chest, heavy biceps bunching, straining against the sleeves of his shirt. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

He didn’t want her pity, and she got that. In reality they barely knew each other, and she’d just witnessed what she could clearly see shamed him. Placing her drink on the coffee table, she stood and moved closer, close enough she could feel the heat of his body radiating from his skin, and shook her head. “I don’t want to go home.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “This isn’t a good idea, Rusty. Not tonight.”

She rested her hand on his chest and moved in closer. “No?”

His breathing grew choppy, but he kept his arms at his sides. “No,” he rasped.

She skimmed her hand down over his ridged abs. “You don’t want me to stay with you tonight?” His muscles tightened as she trailed over them, back up to his chest. His heart thumped rapidly below her palm, beating in time with her own racing pulse. “If you really don’t want me here, I’ll go. But I don’t think you want that.”

His lips were set in a grim line, eyes locked on hers, dark and intense. The man was wild, utterly beautiful. “Fuck…Rusty.” He lifted his hand and shoved it into his hair.

She had no idea what she was doing, she’d never seduced a guy before, had never wanted to. Once she got him in the sack, it wasn’t like she had much in the way of experience to guide her. She’d probably make a complete fool of herself, but she wanted Reid, and she got the feeling he needed her as well. Tonight more than ever.

He carried a lot on those broad shoulders. Not only his businesses, and the staff that relied on him, but an abusive, alcoholic father and the care and welfare of his mother. Something he’d been doing since he was old enough to. The thought made her heart hurt.

“Do you want me?” she asked. “You said you wanted me naked, underneath you in your bed. Do you still want that?” She held her breath as she waited for him to answer.

A growl escaped his throat. “You know I do.” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Tonight, the way I feel, I can’t be gentle. I need it rough. You’re not ready for the kind of rough I’m talking about. Don’t push this. There’s only so much I can take before I fucking break, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Lust surged through her, hard and fast, and she was surprised her panties didn’t go up in flames. Everything he’d just said hit her in all the right places. No, she’d never had it rough, but she wanted it any way he chose to give it to her. “I know I lack experience, but I’m not a virgin. And I’m not some weak-minded idiot who doesn’t know what she wants. I want you, Reid. However you give it to me. I’m a big girl. I won’t break.”

His breathing grew heavier, nostrils flaring, pupils dilating. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Going up on her tiptoes, she nipped his lower lip. “Show me.” Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she nuzzled along his jaw, kissing where he’d taken the hit from his father, where a light bruise was forming. “Please, Reid.”

Suddenly his arms were around her in a bone-crushing grip. The scent of his deodorant, clean sweat, and a hint of motor oil invaded her senses, and she couldn’t help but rub up against him, seeking more of his heat, more of everything.

His body shook with the effort to restrain himself, but she didn’t want that, didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted to give him what he needed.

He cursed, then one of his hands thrust into her hair and fisted, tugging her head back. “Stop this. Stop it now, Rusty. Tell me you want to go home, that you don’t want this.”

His eyes were blazing, full of sensual promise. Jesus, he was magnificent, brutal, and on the verge of unleashing all that heat on her.

She should be afraid, should do as he asked. But she’d never been a coward, and despite her born-again-virgin status, she was no wilting flower with tender sensibilities to be protected.

She’d never wanted anything more than the man struggling for control in front of her.

“Reid…” She pressed her hips closer, and a low moan broke past her throat when she felt his massive erection against her belly. Leaning in, she kissed the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “I want this more than I’ve wanted anything. I’m so wet for you. God, my panties are soaked.”

He snarled like some kind of tormented beast. His arm, still around her, tightened in an unforgiving hold, and the hand in her hair tugged brutally moments before his mouth came down on hers. His tongue invaded, thrusting against hers in a way that said whatever control he’d been hanging onto had snapped. Then she was off the floor, and they were moving.

He tore his mouth away. “Legs around me.”

She did as he said, then they were going upstairs. Reid shoved open the first door they came to and strode in. His mouth was on hers again, then her neck, sucking and nibbling her skin. He put her on her feet and yanked his shirt over his head, exposing the wide, defined expanse of his chest. The ink covering his skin was magnificent. A tribal design wound up one side, over his ribs and pec, thick swirls continuing over his shoulder to join the ink on his neck. The other side was a serpent of some kind that covered his arm and curled over his other shoulder to his back.