As if the Hot Rods had done the same for her insides as the masseuse had done for her muscles, Devra’s guts had unknotted for the first time in years, since she’d entangled Trevon in this mess. He was too decent for his own good.
It wasn’t going to be easy to approach him for a mature, frank, and empathetic discussion about their issues after trying to ignore them for so long. It was the only way out, though. For them both.
She owed him that much at least.
So Devra had asked Sally to drop her off at the end of the long Hot Rides driveway in order to gather her thoughts and prepare for what was to come on the stroll through the quiet, moonlit woods. To make sure she expressed herself in a way that was genuine and respectful, without getting upset or losing control of her emotions no matter what Trevon had to say in response.
A warm glow spilled from the two neighboring tiny homes onto the narrow stretch of grass separating them, illuminating it twice as brightly where the light overlapped. She stood there for a minute or two, staring at that spot. What if the things the Hot Rods women had said could be true for her and Trevon, too? Could they burn twice as bright if they were open to unconventional possibilities?
Devra wondered what Quinn was doing inside and what he might think of the details his friends had disclosed. Still, she didn’t allow herself to waver from her original goal: Trevon.
She’d gotten back a lot later than originally anticipated since the ladies had taken her out to eat after they’d finished at the spa. Devra thought they had been not-so-secretly making sure she was okay and had time to process everything they’d told her before they unleashed her on her poor unsuspecting husband. They’d texted Quinn, who’d relayed the message to Trevon. He’d told her to have fun and not to rush.
Apparently the guys had been working late at the shop, fixing up Pop’s bike. That should have put Trevon in a good mood, at least.
He’d obviously waited up for her. She took that as a sign.
She climbed the three wooden stairs to the tiny home and let herself in, being careful not to slam the front door of this place she appreciated so much. With its whitewashed shiplap and cornflower blue accents, it was cozy and adorable. Bonus, it was also quick to clean from top to bottom. It had everything they needed without being too much. The combo kitchen and living space accounted for most of the ground floor, with an efficient bathroom tucked behind it. Although nothing inside was grandiose, it was still extremely comfortable, well-designed, and covered in high-end finishes. Quinn had explained that when you only needed three square feet of tile, you could afford to splurge.
Devra couldn’t believe this was really their home now. A place they could call their own. As long as what she was about to do didn’t ruin everything.
What if it did? At least she wouldn’t be living in constant fear that someday Trevon would wake up and decide he’d had enough of her. Some part of her questioned if he’d made that mistake on her green card application because subconsciously he wasn’t ready for them to be that permanently attached.
Okay, so that was probably ridiculous, but she still couldn’t help the doubts from creeping in.
It was time to stop this madness. If he really was still awake. He hadn’t called out a hello to her, so maybe he had fallen asleep with the light on. Wouldn’t be the first time. He worked so hard and wore himself out. Devra put extra effort into approaching quietly in case he’d drifted off while reading or something.
A bookcase doubled as a ladder leading up to the lofted platform above the kitchen and bathroom that cradled a ridiculously comfortable foam bed beneath a vaulted ceiling made up of the exposed rafters, which had been painted white. Quinn had strung some LED fairy lights around the loft that made it seem magical and romantic. Not at all like the bachelor pad she might have expected of the teenager he’d been when he’d built this place with the help of the Powertools crew.
Devra took a deep breath, then boosted herself onto the first shelf-rung. It creaked when Trevon climbed it, but he was easily twice her size. She went up slowly, careful not to misplace a foot and knock anything off. That would probably scare the shit out of Trevon. He’d bolt upright in bed and smack his head on one of those pretty beams. Not the way she wanted to begin their talk.
So when her eyes cleared the platform, she peeked at the bed they shared night after night while keeping as much space down the middle as possible, each of them curled up tight on their respective sides.
Devra hated that gap that she couldn’t seem to bridge. But if it hurt her to lie next to him without cuddling, speaking soft words, or making love, well, that was her problem, not his. He’d never promised her more than a safe haven, which he’d delivered.
What she saw wasn’t at all what she expected.
Trevon was very definitely awake. In fact, he was woke all over.
Her eyes flew open wide and she nearly lost her grip on the bookcase, which would have resulted in her crashing to the ground below and ruining the very intimate moment for Trevon.
So she clung tight. And couldn’t stop staring.
No wonder he hadn’t greeted her. He appeared extremely distracted by whatever he was watching on the tablet Quinn had lent them. Was that…pornography?
The soft moans and the sound of skin slapping skin that began to come from the device seemed to support her theory.
It was then she realized that Trevon was holding the tablet with one hand while the other had slipped beneath the sheet covering him up to his waist. The tent made by his erection was obvious even from her vantage point. She’d never seen a naked man before Trevon, and only a few times when he’d been coming out of the shower or changing clothes, but she wondered if all of them were as big as he was. She guessed not.
What she saw shocked her. Yet it fascinated her, too.
She should go. Or at least back up a few steps and make sure he knew she was there.
Except she couldn’t look away. The gentleman who’d sacrificed so much for her was sprawled on the bed, making it seem much smaller than she knew it was.
His hand added to the bulk under the sheet, moving in slow strokes for a bit before he shifted and the sheet fell away from his groin. Devra stared, utterly frozen by curiosity and…desire. She licked her lips as his hand began to move faster, pumping up his shaft, making it harder and darker.
She’d never seen it erect before, never mind that hard. Impressive even when he was getting out of the shower or changing clothes, now it was big enough that she gulped.
She should leave.
But she couldn’t stop staring at her husband and the things he was doing to himself. It looked like it felt so damn good. Why hadn’t he let her do this for him? Was it because she didn’t have experience and didn’t know how to do it right?
He could have taught her. She would have enjoyed putting that look of pure rapture on his face.
What was he thinking about when he paused, his eyes scrunched closed so tightly as he worked himself like that—rough, fast, and a little desperate now?
Should she climb the rest of the bookcase and offer to take care of him?
He’d done the same for her in so many ways aside from the physical, it seemed like hardly anything to trade. And part of her would love to…if only things were different between them. If only it wouldn’t seem like some crazy obligation to both of them.
No, she couldn’t. Not until they’d talked. And this didn’t seem like the right time anymore.
Devra bit her lip. Hard. Still, she didn’t retreat.
When he paused and reached up to brush the pad of his calloused thumb over his nipple, she realized her hand was mimicking his. She pinched the rock-hard tip of her breast, clapping her other hand over her mouth to keep from hissing at the contact. In her country, she could probably be put to death for spying on a man like this. For what she was watching and the things it made her want.
Here, she didn’t care. She needed to see what he was doing and how he could make himself feel goo
d so maybe someday she could do it for him. Or for Quinn. Or maybe for both.
Devra’s head tipped to the side as the sounds coming from the tablet escalated and she realized that there were two distinct performers. Both moaning and murmuring nasty things to each other. Both male.
Her heart sped up and her hands grew damp. This time not in such a good way. Maybe this was why Trevon hadn’t let her touch him. Maybe she wasn’t what he wanted.
She’d suspected that could be, especially after how he’d been acting around Quinn, but…
Had she almost made a complete fool of herself?
Devra trembled, her fingers going back to the bookcase to hold herself steady.
Trevon’s hand wandered back down his chest and the ripped muscles of his abs. He cupped his balls and rolled them around in his palm, then trailed his fingers over the taut skin there before allowing himself to take hold of his cock again.
He lifted it off his body. It looked heavy and full.
A groan escaped him, rivaling the ones coming from the movie he was watching, as he wrapped his hand around it and began to pump with more purpose this time. His thumb swiped across the tip, spreading fluid that made it glisten in the low light.
What would it taste like? What would he feel like if it were her fingers around him?
Devra doubted she’d be able to clasp him with just one hand. It would take two. She would surround him and stroke him until he shuddered as he was now. Sweat began to form on his brow and his legs grew restless beneath the sheet.
His hand sped up, working himself faster and faster.
It didn’t take long before he seemed strung as tight as a bow ready to fire an arrow.
And when one of the men on the video cried out in ecstasy, followed shortly by his partner echoing him, Trevon’s entire body froze, clenched, then bucked. His hips thrust upward and his erection jutted out from the end of his fist.
A stream of pearly seed launched from his cock and splattered on his chest. He grunted and flexed in a primal display of passion that Devra thought was beautiful and somewhat frightening all at once.
Forbidden and exquisite. Raw and real.
As the fluid hit and spread over his muscles, he cried out, “Quinn!”
That one word lanced Devra’s heart.
It ripped away any shred of confidence she’d had. Thank God she hadn’t made a fool of herself after all. She tore her gaze from her gorgeous husband and the pain that she was causing him by keeping him from what he really craved. It was only then she realized how much he’d given up by marrying her. She was ruining his life, and she didn’t know what else to do.
Devra scurried down the bookcase ladder, crossed to the front door, opened and shut it with a bang, then dashed into the bathroom. She closed the door on Trevon, the sham they had been living, and the possibility of making their marriage a real one.
She locked herself inside before stripping off her clothes. With a flick of her wrist, she turned on the water to the hottest setting before sinking to the floor beneath the spray and crumpling into a ball. It scorched her back as it also flattened the pretty waves of her silly hairdo. She tipped her face up into the water and let the makeup drip off her cheeks and swirl the drain before disappearing. It didn’t make her feel any cleaner. Not even after she’d stayed there long enough to cry her eyes out.
Who had she been kidding? She wasn’t a seductress. And even if she had been, it wouldn’t have made her desirable to her husband. He needed things she couldn’t give him. He craved the touch of a man.
No matter how much she wanted to set him free, she needed him to keep her close to survive.
How was she going to make this right? She was terrified she couldn’t. At least not while ensuring her own heart and soul remained intact.
Because it was clear to her now that she was on the verge of losing her husband.
Devra loved Trevon, and she didn’t want to give him up even if that’s what was best for him. She had to let him go, but she couldn’t.
Which made her the most selfish, disgusting woman in the world.
13
Quinn looked up from the engine he was rebuilding and saw Devra approaching, her long black hair shining as the breeze stirred it behind her. She was carrying the cobalt blue tray that was starting to elicit a Pavlovian response from him. He smiled and called to Trevon, “Hey, man. Look sharp. Your wife is incoming. I think she’s bringing us some lunch.”
There were a lot of things he liked about having Devra and Trevon around Hot Rides, but he had to admit her homemade meals was one of his favorites.
“Do you think she made falafels? I swear I could eat them every day and never get tired of her. Them, I mean.” Quinn rushed to correct his slip of tongue. His crass thoughts were getting harder to keep to himself, though. He’d been walking around with a perma-boner for days, making him think ruefully of those ED pill commercials that warned about prolonged erections.
Hopefully he wasn’t causing permanent damage downstairs.
“I think she said she was doing shakshouka today, but that was yesterday. Now who knows?” Trevon trailed off.
“Even better.” Quinn rose from his crouch and wiped his hands on his jumpsuit. Trevon kept working. So he kicked the bottom of the other guy’s boot with just enough force to get his attention. “Dude, let’s go.”
Trevon didn’t look up from what he was doing. He muttered, “Be there in a minute.”
That was weird. Usually he was racing Quinn to the break room, especially when Devra made shakshouka. It was his favorite.
“Suit yourself. Don’t come crying if I polish it all off before you can get some, though. I don’t have much self-control when it comes to your wife. Her cooking.” Quinn figured he’d better just go eat before he put his foot in his mouth again. Devra’s food tasted a lot better than dirty boots.
He turned and met her on the walkway, scooping the tray from her and carrying it the rest of the way. “Damn, Devra. This smells even better than yesterday’s lunch.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t smile when she said it.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he opened the door and held it for her to enter first.
She seemed reluctant to join him, looking into the garage for her husband. “Yes. Where’s Trevon?”
“Working.” Quinn rolled his eyes. “His boss must be a total asshole.”
Devra did look up then, shaking her head. “He’s definitely not. It must be important, though, or Trevon would be in here, spending time with you.”
“You mean eating this amazing food, right?” Quinn was kidding around. He snagged a plate and some silverware from the cabinet and dug in. “What is this?” He pointed to a plate stacked with triangles of fried dough.
“Potato and cheese sambusa,” she said, her voice devoid of its usual sparkle.
He had to do something drastic to make her laugh, or crack a smile, something. This side of her was one he didn’t know and it sort of alarmed him. Quinn plucked one up, popped it in his mouth whole, and groaned in genuine delight as the flavors of onions, cilantro, and a familiar custom spice mix he’d learned she called hawaij, burst over his tongue. “Devra, these are so fucking good I could kiss you.”
Her gaze flicked to his barely long enough for him to realize how panicked her eyes were before returning to the ground.
What. The. Fuck.
Had he overstepped? Made her uncomfortable because Trevon wasn’t around? Or maybe because she was more conservative and innocent than most people he knew? Before he could figure it out, she bolted.
“I’d better go. I’ll come back later for the dishes.” She was already several steps away when he had an idea.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll wash them and return them to you this evening. It’s the least I can do.” Quinn had also bought a bunch of groceries he planned to haul across the yard with the dishes. He was eating enough for three people. Didn’t seem right for her and Trevon to pay for it all and do the
work of preparing and serving it, too.
“Maybe it’d be better if I send Trevon over to get them.” She wrung her hands and said, “He likes spending time with you. You two should do guy stuff after work, you know? Without me.”
Uhhhh. Quinn wasn’t sure what was going on, but he could tell he was missing something. “Um, okay. But you’re welcome to hang out with us, too.”
“I think he needs more time alone. Or, away from me, I guess. Maybe I’ll go to Hot Rods and see what the ladies are up to while you two work on Pop’s bike or do…whatever. I’ll make sure I call before I come back.”
“Okay, Devra. Whatever you want. I know the Hot Rods would be happy to have you over.” Quinn scratched his jaw, puzzled.
“Of course.” She didn’t say you’re welcome. “Enjoy.”
She turned to go as Trevon was coming through the door. When their chests might have touched in the close quarters, she swerved in a move worthy of a contortionist to avoid coming in contact with her husband.
“You sure you don’t want to eat with us?” Trevon asked her, putting out a hand to keep her from crashing into the wall after her drastic maneuver.
“Positive.” She dodged that, too, then spun on her heel and marched away, head down.
“What’s up with her?” Quinn asked Trevon.
Trevon shrugged. “I’m not sure. She’s been acting super weird since she got back from the spa with the Hot Rods ladies last night. What the hell happened there? I assumed they were going to do girly stuff and bitch about their husbands or some shit.”
“Oh fuck.” Quinn threw down his fork. Delicious food stuck in his throat. Trevon was right. That’s probably exactly what they had done. “There are some things you should know…”
He probably should have briefed Trevon about his friends but they’d gotten so busy talking about heavy subjects and after that, they’d chased away the negative energy by working on the Indian. To Quinn, the Hot Rods and their unconventional relationships were normal. He hadn’t thought about how uncomfortable it might make someone with Devra’s upbringing to be around them.
Love in the Dark Page 210
