He stepped to the table, and the light illuminating his face sent my pulse into double time.

His features had hardened since high school, matured, but those mahogany eyes were unmistakable. He’d definitely grown up, in some places more than others. He was still lean, but his shoulders were broad. Their width seemed to make wearing the cuffs even more uncomfortable.

His dark hair and unshaven jaw framed the most handsome face I had ever seen. His mouth was full, sensual, and his eyes were exactly as I remembered. Like chocolate accented with gold and green flecks and lined with impossibly thick lashes. They shimmered even in the unnatural light above us.

Ten years in prison. In this place. My chest tightened at the thought, and a bizarre sense of protection swept over me.

Unfortunately he felt it. He offered a frigid stare. “Tell him we’re fine,” he said, and only then did I realize Neil was still in the room.

I took in a deep breath to gather myself. “We’re fine, Neil. Thank you.”

Neil hesitated, pointed at the camera to remind me, then left, closing the door behind him.

“That’s sweet,” he said as he folded himself into the chair, taking note of the file I had on the table. His chains rattled against the metal when he placed his hands on top of it.

I sat, too. “What?”

He gestured toward the door with a nod. “Gossett.” Then, with an expression of disapproval, he added, “You.” A trace of a humorless grin lifted one side of his beautiful mouth.

I knew what that mouth was capable of, from my dreams, from our encounters, but never in the flesh. “What about Neil and me?” I asked, pretending to be offended. I was too taken aback by him to be much of anything but stunned. “We went to high school together.”

He arched a brow as though impressed. “Well, that’s convenient.”

“I suppose.”

Just then I felt my chair being pulled forward and gasped. He’d wrapped his foot around a leg and was easing me closer to the table.

When I started to protest, he placed a finger from his cuffed hands over his mouth. “Shhh,” he whispered, mischief sparkling in his eyes. After he pulled me to the table, he dropped his gaze to my chest.

The table had stretched my sweater tight, defining Danger and Will Robinson more fully.

“That’s better,” he said, appreciation shimmering in his eyes. Just as I was about to chastise him, he asked, “How long has he known?”

His inquiry threw me. “Who? Known what?”

“Gossett,” he said, glancing back at my face. “How long has he known what I am?”

His question knocked the air out of my lungs. I stuttered as I tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t get Neil killed. “I … he doesn’t know anything.”

“Don’t.” It was a quiet warning, yet I flinched as though he’d yelled at me.

“How did you—?”

“Dutch.” He tsked and tilted his head, waiting, and I realized there was no getting around the truth.

“He doesn’t know, not everything. He’s not a threat to you,” I said, trying to convince both of us. When I’d blurted out the fact that Reyes was the son of Satan to Neil on my last visit, I had put the deputy warden’s life in danger. I knew it the moment the words left my mouth. This was different from my telling Cookie or Gemma. Neil was locked in the same place with him day in and day out. It was honestly one of the stupidest things I’d ever done.

“You’re probably right,” he said, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief. “Who would believe him?” He glanced up and looked right into the camera, the smile he still wore dripping with a silent threat.

I felt as though I hardly knew him, which in truth was the case. Our encounters were always brief and to the point. We rarely had heart-to-hearts, and when we did, they always ended the same way. Though to say I regretted for a moment having sex with a being forged from the fires of sin would be a bald-faced lie. His body—both corporeally and incorporeally—was like molten steel, his passion insatiable. And when he touched me, when his mouth pressed against mine and his body pushed into me, everything else fell away.

The mere thought caused a visceral tightening between my legs, and I sucked in a soft breath.

He watched me close as though trying to read my thoughts, and I wrapped my fingers around the file I’d brought, tried to calm myself. The file held the transcripts from his trial, a copy of his arrest record, and the contents of his prison jacket, the parts Neil could share with me anyway. The psychological profile had been off-limits. And I know they’d tested his intelligence. What’d they call it? Immeasurable?

I decided to get my questions out of the way before we got to the real reason I was there. Reyes had been physically and mentally abused by the man he’d gone to prison for killing, yet none of that history was brought out during the trial. I wanted to know why. I straightened my shoulders and asked, “Why weren’t the issues of your abuse at the hands of Earl Walker addressed during your trial?”

He stilled. The easy smile disappeared, and a wall of distrust forced its way between us. His posture shifted ever so slightly, turned defensive, the set of his shoulders hostile, and a wary tension thickened the air.

My fingers tightened around the file folder. I needed to know why he’d just sat back and let them send him to prison without so much as lifting a finger in his own defense, in defense of his actions. “They weren’t brought up at all,” I said after a quick gulp of air, charging forward.

He glanced at the file, a malevolent glint in his eyes. “So you know everything about me now?” The idea alone seemed to chafe him.

“Not hardly,” I assured.

He thought a long moment before responding. “But everything you want to know is in that file. All neat. Orderly. Small.”

The power of his gaze siphoned the breath from my lungs, and I had to fight for air under the weight of it. “I think you’re underestimating yourself.”

“The only one in this room underestimating me is you.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up with that statement. “I don’t think so.”

“Gossett didn’t want to leave you alone with me. At least he’s got the sense God gave a walnut.”

I chose not to address his insult. He was angry and taking it out on me. Hadn’t my own father done that very thing only an hour earlier? Men and their inability to cope with their own emotions astounded me. My gaze dropped to his hands, fatigue and stress taking their toll.