The Devil You Know

by Morgan James

  After this evening, she knew. When he’d looked at her, his expression sincere, she knew in that moment he would never force her, never hurt her. And she wanted him more than she’d wanted anything in her entire life.

  He straightened away from her and shrugged out of his shirt, the material sliding over his sculpted muscles and pooling on the ground in a soft heap. Her gaze flitted over him, absorbing every detail. The man was gorgeous. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, taut muscles clearly defined beneath the tanned flesh. Dark tattoos curled around his biceps and shoulders, winding around to his upper back. Several scars marked his torso and she lightly traced a time-faded line on his abdomen about four inches long.

  “How did you get that?”

  “Knife fight.”

  Her eyes darted to his, a small smile curving her lips, but his eyes were serious. Good Lord, he wasn’t kidding. Her hand moved to a circle of puckered flesh on his shoulder, and she sucked in a breath. “Is that what I think it is?”

  This time, his lips curled into a semblance of a smile. “Probably.” He captured her palm in his, halting her exploration. “Those are from a lifetime ago, sweetheart. No need to worry over me.”

  His hazel eyes glowed in the dim light, so honest and sincere. Without another thought, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. The kiss was frantic and needy, the deep-rooted desire threatening to sweep her away. Snaking a hand between them, her fingers coasted over the muscles of his abdomen, down to the vee of his pelvis, and her fingers halted on the button on his slacks.

  She hesitated for a long moment and he pulled back just enough to stare at her in silent question. She shook her head. She needed this, needed him. She’d never felt this way about any man. She’d been terrified for years—scared to live, scared to be free. But Blake had changed all that. He’d taken those fears away and shown her that it was okay to just be... her.

  Mind focused on her task, she popped the button free of its hole and eagerly pushed the material down over his hips, taking his boxers with them. Still caged in his arms, she could only reach so far, and she let out a small sound of frustration. He straightened with a chuckle and quickly shucked them, stepping out of his socks and shoes.

  She realized with startling clarity that she was naked. Well, almost naked. With a lopsided grin, Blake took one stiletto-clad foot in his hand. He slipped the shoe off and dropped it to the floor, and her second shoe disappeared in the same fashion. He kissed the arch of one foot and she bit back a laugh as the short hairs of his beard tickled her skin.

  Blake’s eyes jumped to hers. “What’s so funny?”

  She grinned. “Your beard tickles.”

  “Oh?” He dropped his head again and kissed his way up her calf and over her inner thigh, teasing her until she writhed beneath him.

  “I love when you laugh.”

  There was a tenderness in his expression she’d never seen before, and she closed her eyes as emotion rolled through her. It seemed she’d waited a lifetime for this, and she was so glad that she had. She blinked her eyes open and met Blake’s gaze, dark with desire. “I feel like I’ve waited forever for this... For you.”

  “Me, too.” His lips caught hers in a gentle kiss, and the tension slowly drained from her muscles. She ran her hands over his biceps as his mouth continued to cast its magic spell over her. She felt him lift slightly away from her then reach between them to roll on the condom. She was incredibly grateful he’d thought of it because she’d been so delirious with pleasure that safety hadn’t even occurred to her. Blake resettled himself over her, sealing them together from chest to thigh. The thick crown of his erection nudged her core, then slid an inch inside. She gasped, more from surprise than pain.

  “Just relax, sweetheart,” he spoke against her lips. “I’ve got you.”

  The nervousness in her heart slowly melted, giving way to eager anticipation as Blake leaned forward, caging her between thick, powerful arms and pressing her into the bed. His thick length prodded her opening, and she instinctively clenched her thighs around his.

  He dipped his head for another kiss, and she momentarily forgot her worries as his tongue teased hers. A thousand thoughts flitted through her mind, the sensations overwhelming in their intensity. It was almost too much to take in. As his mouth ravaged hers, he pulled out a fraction before sliding back in, and her muscles slowly expanded around him, accepting him deeper. She bit down on her lower lip, a strange feeling radiating through her body—a dull pain combined with the heady deliciousness as he stretched her, commanded her body.

  “I’ll take care of you.” He enfolded her within his arms, her head cradled in his large, capable hands, and his thumb stroked lightly over her cheek. “I promise.”

  He dipped his head and kissed her throat as he sank in to the hilt. Air suspended in her lungs, she clenched her eyes shut, her fingers digging into the flesh of Blake’s shoulders. As quickly as the twinge of pain came, it faded away again. He pulled out before sliding back in, the sensation making her feel almost unbearably full. He brushed her clit as he stroked into her, and she felt a new tension begin to build. She felt as if she was being pulled in a thousand directions at once—she wanted to speed it up, slow it down, suspend time completely. Her body was taut and tense, anxiously waiting for whatever would happen next.

  “Relax, sweetheart.” Opening her eyes, she saw Blake staring down at her.

  She nodded a little, unable to speak, and forced herself to ease her hold on him. He kissed her face, her throat, using his hands and mouth as encouragement as he pumped into her, slow and deep. Each thrust stroked her inner walls, urging her closer and closer to completion.

  “Just let go,” Blake murmured against her temple. “I’m right here, baby. I’ll catch you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as he changed angles, and she came on a silent scream.

  She’d used a vibrator before, but this—this was new. She’d never come so hard, so intensely, before. She clung to him as he increased his tempo and came with a ragged groan. He rested on top of her for a moment before shifting onto his side, pulling her flush against him, one leg draped over his.

  She brushed her nose over the firm muscle of his chest, the curly hair tickling her, and she smiled at the sensation. Ensconced in his warm, strong embrace, she shifted her legs and grinned. It had been amazing, so much better than she’d ever imagined. Movies couldn’t do justice to the emotion she’d felt. He ran a hand down her spine, breath shuddering in his chest, and his lips found her forehead for a soft kiss. She wanted to melt into him, get closer than skin, and she shifted further into his embrace. His arms tightened around her before tipping her chin up to meet his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’ll be better next time.”

  Better? She stifled a laugh. How in the world could it be better? She felt cherished, protected within his arms, and he’d made sure to take his time with her, go slowly. He’d been reverent and caring, gentle and loving as he’d worshipped her body. She’d been right to trust him with her first time; no one but Blake could’ve made it more amazingly sensual and sweet.

  “It was... perfect.” She wrapped her arms around him and trailed her fingers over his back, his powerful muscles tensing and bunching under her touch. He pulled her close and draped a possessive hand over her hip.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “A little sore,” she admitted.

  “How about a soak in the tub?”

  He scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom despite her protests. A clawfoot tub sat against the far wall, and he set her on her feet beside it. Reaching out, he flipped the handles to the side and hot, steamy water poured from the faucet. She darted a glance at Blake out of the corner of her eyes. His muscles rippled beneath deeply tanned skin, hard-won from all the physical labor he’d endured while in the field.

  She’d seen him partially clothed, but somehow this was different. They’d stripped away the thin layer separat
ing them, and Victoria had never felt more exposed. Her body was so different from his, and she was immediately self-conscious as she admired his perfect silhouette. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and she crossed her arms over her chest.

  The motion caught Blake’s attention and he turned toward her, examining her face. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  One dark eyebrow rose. He reached out, his hands wrapping around her wrists and gently pulling them away from her body as she cried out in mortification. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t hide from me.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke over her. “I know this is new for you, but it’s just me.”

  Didn’t he realize that was the problem? She wanted to rail at him, turn him toward the mirror and point it out. He was beautiful in the most masculine way and she... well, she was just plain old Victoria. Mousy and shy with equally uninspiring features and an extra ten pounds that taunted her every time she tried on clothes.

  “You’re beautiful.” He took her hand and placed it flat on his chest, over his heart. Her fingers curled against the hardened muscle. He lifted her other hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm. “And I want to see every inch of you.”

  Lifting her arm, he placed it around his neck and pulled her flush against him. She could feel him everywhere, from the tips of her toes brushing against his all the way up to his nose nuzzling her hair. He ran his hands lightly over her, using the feathery touch to relax her. Stepping over the edge of the tub, he lifted her in and pulled her down as he sat, settling her between his legs.

  Her breasts skimmed the top of the water as she lay back against him, and she sank lower. As if knowing exactly what she needed, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She immediately felt less exposed and her heart warmed at his silent reassurance. As she relaxed into his embrace, his hands left her breasts and traveled over her body, tenderly massaging the tension from her muscles. Slipping his fingers down her arms, he clasped his fingers around hers, softly brushing the backs of her hands with his thumbs. They remained intertwined for a long while before he dropped a soft kiss on her temple.

  “Ready to get out?”

  Reluctant to abandon this tender moment with him, she nodded and climbed from the cool water. He grabbed a towel from a rack on the wall and enfolded her within the fluffy material, briskly running his hands over her. He wrapped a towel around his own slim hips and took her hand to lead her back to the bedroom. She stooped down to pick up her panties, but a heavy hand on her shoulder stopped her and she straightened to look at him.

  Nervously twisting the material of the towel, she dropped her gaze. “I should probably, um...”

  His large hand cupped her jaw, and her gaze lifted to his. The hazel depths were dark with desire. “Stay with me.” The words were low and husky, and she shivered at the feel of them as they settled over her.

  “I’m not sure...”

  He held out a hand, silently begging her to trust him. She stared at it for a moment before dropping the towel and placing her fingers in his. With his free hand, he flipped back the covers and slid into the bed. A gentle tug had her following seconds later. He pulled the sheets over them and tucked her into the crook of his shoulder, lifting one leg over his hip. She settled against him, exhaustion pulling at her. She tucked her arms in close to her, not quite sure what to do with them.

  “Hand.”

  She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “What?”

  “Give me your hand.”

  She pulled her left hand from between them and offered it to him. He kissed her fingers and placed it palm-down over his heart, his own heavy hand resting on top of it. With a secret smile at the unexpected gesture, Victoria lay her head on his chest and breathed deeply. Contentment pulled at her and she closed her eyes, allowing the warmth and protection of his embrace to lull her to sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he gazed at the little house. The vantage point wasn’t ideal, but he couldn’t risk getting any closer. He’d waited until well after dark to drive past her house then circled back and parked on the opposite side of the street. A single light was on in the living room, but he hadn’t sensed any movement in the twenty minutes since he’d been here. It was almost eleven o’clock—she should be home. It was possible she’d gone to bed, but something nagged at him.

  Needing to see for himself, he slid out of the car and crossed the lawn, taking care to slink through the shadows. As he approached the house, the light in the living room clicked off. He froze, concealed behind a large rhododendron, and counted to fifty before peering over the sill of the living room window. The TV wasn’t on, and the coffee table was devoid of any cups or dishes. It didn’t look like she’d been there all evening. Although her car was in the driveway, the house seemed... empty. Lifeless.

  Anxiety gnawing at him, he decided to press his luck. He stole through the shadows to the back door. The routine was comforting in its familiarity. He knew every inch of her house inside and out. He’d sat on her couch, run his hands over the clothes in her closet. Lain in her bed.

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, spurring him on. Soon, so very soon, she’d be there with him. He’d made significant strides with her these past few months—except for their recent hiccup.

  He was still furious with Victoria’s friend for trying to change her, but honestly, he didn’t altogether mind. He’d always thought she was a beautiful woman—now that she dressed in more flattering clothes, she was even more so. She would complement him perfectly, and no man would ever touch her—except him. She was meant for him alone.

  He expertly picked the lock on the back door and entered into the laundry room next to the kitchen. The alarm beeped its low warning, and he bolted to the front of the house, eager to disengage the system before it announced his presence. He punched in the code and ducked into the dining room, listening intently for movement. When none came, he smiled to himself. The feeling quickly evaporated, the smile sliding from his face. She really should be more careful with her security precautions. It was so easy to bypass things these days. The fact that she’d used a very important set of numbers didn’t help either. They represented a date that was intimately familiar to him—and to her. She’d lost her best friend and her innocence while he’d gained... everything.

  He’d never truly known power and dominance until that night. That feeling as he held Leah’s life in his hands and slowly snuffed it out... it was incomparable. It hadn’t been intentional, not really. But when he’d overheard the two of them in the movie store, talking about boys—talking about sex—he hadn’t been able to help himself. Leah had been a whore, and he couldn’t abide women with no morals.

  Victoria, on the other hand... She was one in a million. At first, he’d assumed that she was just like her friend. Although he’d been shocked to discover that she’d survived, he decided it was an act of fate. He existed just on the periphery of her life, watching, waiting.

  But he was wrong. She’d never been with a man. He knew from the way she carried herself, the way she interacted with the men she’d dated. Never going on more than a few dates with one man, she was reserved and aloof. He’d realized then that she was waiting for the right man—waiting for him. The thought filled him with elation. She’d eluded him once, but now he had her—almost.

  Now that the alarm had quieted, he gazed at his surroundings, listening for any little sound. The house remained still, too still, and he knew it was empty.

  Dear God, had something happened to her? Worry spread through him. She’d deviated from her routine and he didn’t like it, not one bit. He needed to look around, see if anything stood out. Careful to avoid the windows, he wound his way through the bottom floor of the house. Sticking close to the wall in the living room, he glanced at the lamp that had illuminated the room. Much as he’d guessed, it was on a timer.

  He clim
bed the stairs on silent feet and tiptoed down the hallway to her bedroom. Moonlight spilled in through the windows, aided by the yellow glow of a street lamp, and he gazed around the room. Nothing appeared to be out of place. Her robe lay draped over a chair in the corner, toothbrush tucked into its holder on the bathroom counter. But no Victoria—and no purse.

  The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He hadn’t seen a handbag anywhere downstairs, and there was no sign of one up here, either. She’d gone somewhere with someone. Whoever it was had probably picked her up and taken her somewhere. She would be back soon, then.

  Wistfully, he glanced at the queen-sized bed. Just one moment wouldn’t hurt. He stretched out on the bed, stroking the soft cotton of the comforter, imagining the feel of her next to him. His cheek nuzzled her pillow and he inhaled deeply. She would be soft and sweet and—

  He jerked upright and sniffed again, unable to believe he’d missed it until just now. Lifting the pillow, he buried his nose in the fabric. A man’s scent, musky and male, assaulted his senses. Rage coursed through his body and red crept into the edges of his vision as his control snapped. His fingers curled into the flimsy fabric and pulled. Stuffing exploded in a puff of white as the fabric ripped, and he flung it to the side. The second pillow met its demise in a similar fashion, and he tore the tainted sheets from the bed.

  She’d had a man here. In her bed—in his place.

  The thought spurred him on, and he whipped the knife from where it rested against his calf. The long blade gleamed as it slashed down into the mattress over and over until his heart raced and his lungs heaved with exertion. Fury driving him, he stabbed the knife into the wall. Digging around in his pocket, he found the object and hung it from the knife. Pale moonlight fell across it, the gold glinting in the thin shaft of light.

  He’d worked too hard for this. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up now. She would be his, damn it. He would make sure of it.