Daring Devlin

by Jessica Lemmon

  My laugh faded into a low sigh when he went to work licking and suckling. He palmed my ass and pulled me closer to his ravishing mouth. My knees melted. I fisted his hair and tugged, fighting needy whimpers as he buried his tongue into me over and over.

  I was so close. So close… “Dev—”

  A knock at the door—are you freaking kidding?—interrupted us, but he didn’t let me get away. Instead, he gripped my hips and went to work on that tiny bundle of nerves responsible for rendering me useless. While he licked, he reached up and squeezed my nipple over my shirt and bra. Pleasure jolted through my entire body as I sucked a breath through my teeth.

  When the knock sounded again, he paused ever so briefly to answer, “Occupied!”

  “Maybe we should—”

  “Concentrate, Rena.” He smiled up at me, his eyes flashing with mischief. At my service on his knees. Was there a more beautiful sight? He licked his damp lips. “We’re not leaving this room until you come.”

  No problem. I nearly did right then.

  This time he put his mouth on me and slipped two fingers into my tight entrance at the same time. His tongue danced over the sensitive flesh, the sensation of fullness bringing me closer to the pinnacle. I moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders, rising on tiptoes to give him access. When he added a third finger and increased the pressure on my clit, I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming out loud.

  The orgasm was intense, leaving me shuddering, gripping his shoulders for support. Ragged breaths sawed from my lungs. When I trusted my legs to hold me, I straightened. Devlin placed a kiss on my stomach, one on each hip bone, then redressed me. As he was buckling my belt, I had the thought that he was actually… sweet. Could that be right?

  He rested his chin on my stomach and looked up at me, his blue eyes as transparent as I’d ever seen them. My entire body tingled. I was probably glowing like the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.

  “Thanks, baby,” he said.

  I let out a sharp laugh. “Shouldn’t I be thanking you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You owe me more than a thank-you.”

  Ah, there was my dark angel. My lips curved, liking the sound of “more.” He pushed himself off the floor and sat in the chair.

  “I’m happy to return the favor,” I said, bold and brazen. I would gladly take him into my mouth, have him under my control the way he’d had me under his. I loved the idea of Devlin under my control.

  “Oh, you will.”

  He patted his legs. Obediently, I sat.

  “What were we supposed to talk about?” He moved a lock of hair behind my ear. I liked when he held me close, his fingers in my hair. I felt like a treasure.

  “My schedule?”

  “Yes. Right.” He nodded. “You’re going to pick up a shift tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow was Sunday. I had a non-date with my mom’s boyfriend’s nephew. That felt wrong. Especially now. Devlin wasn’t my boyfriend. I had no claim on him. For all I knew, he did this with a different girl every night of the week. My stomach soured, but I knew better than to ask him. If the answer was yes, and it very well could be, I didn’t want to know.

  “I… can’t,” I said. “I have to go to dinner.”

  I rearranged his longish hair and tried not to picture another girl’s mouth on his body. I loved his hair. Glossy almost-black, soft, and thick.

  “With?” he asked.

  “My mom, the guy she’s dating, and his nephew.”

  He nodded, probably assuming that “nephew” was synonymous with “ten-year-old.” I wasn’t sure he’d be jealous if he knew the truth. There was no reason for Devlin to be jealous. I had as much interest in Barney as I had in poking myself in the eye with a fork. Alas. My masochism extended only as far as the man on whose lap I sat.

  “After dinner, then,” he said.

  “By then it’ll be too late to have a section.”

  “No section.” He fiddled with the ends of my ponytail. “I need you to pick up an envelope for me.”

  My fingers stilled in his hair. Was this why he’d gone down on me? So that he could convince me to collect his bookie money? God. I was an idiot. I pushed away from him but before I could stand his arms tightened around my waist.

  “Rena.”

  He had an ulterior motive this whole time. He didn’t really want me, he just wanted me to do something for him. That was why he’d turned me inside out. Why he was snuggling me now.

  “Sunday has nothing to do with now,” he said, reading my mind.

  “Oh, you weren’t trying to convince me to say yes?”

  “I was trying to make you say ‘Yes, Devlin’ over and over and over again.” His lips tilted into a tempting curve.

  My hands returned to his hair. That might have been the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me.

  “Sadly, we’ll have to try again later,” he said, his eyebrows jumping, “since it didn’t work.”

  Damn. He was good. Only he wasn’t. There was nothing good about him.

  He stood and put me on my feet, and then used his knuckle to tip my chin. “Tomorrow?”

  I blew out a breath of defeat. “Tomorrow.”

  He left the office first, and then exited the restaurant via the back door. I fetched my coat and purse from the storeroom, realizing that Devlin had left once again without kissing me.

  Without a kiss above the waist, anyway.

  Mom’s kitchen smelled like pie, which would be good if she could bake something other than scones. She’d failed at every attempt at pie over the course of my lifetime. It didn’t stop her from trying though, which was admirable.

  “Apple?” I guessed as I hung my coat in the hall closet.

  “Rhubarb!” she said, bent over the oven.

  I cringed. I had no idea what rhubarb was or why she’d attempted to put it into a pastry. “Oh.”

  She slid the pie onto the stovetop. She was wearing the apron I bought her for Christmas that had a cartoon bottle of wine and read: i pour better than i cook.

  “It’s raw in the middle,” she announced. We both frowned at the sunken layer of dough.

  Yet the edges were black. Amazing. Maybe instead of being a horrible baker, she was an incredible baker—who else could mess up pie one hundred percent of the time?

  “Do you think I should call Roy and ask him to pick one up from Kenzie’s Bakery?”

  Yes, I thought. But instead, I said, “Um, I probably won’t stay for dessert. I have to go in to work after all.”

  Her face fell. “Rena!”

  “I’m staying for dinner.” I held up my palms. “My boss said I had to come in…” Or else, he’ll stop inflicting orgasms on me. I managed not to smile. Barely. I was truly shameless.

  “You have to stay for dessert. Don’t make Barney and Roy eat this by themselves.”

  Our gazes strayed to the puffy, burned-on-the-outside, pale-on-the-inside pastry.

  “Um. Okay.” I resented being forced into a pseudo-date. I didn’t want an “appropriate” or law-abiding guy. I wanted Devlin, who was most certainly inappropriate and law-unabiding… or whatever the word was.

  I set the table as my mother placed the questionably cooked pie next to a casserole dish. She’d played it safe with dinner. There were potatoes and cheese under that glass dome. She carried in a plate of sliced ham—baked by the supermarket so all she’d had to do was heat it in the oven.

  “I forgot to make the green beans! Shoot.” She ran for the freezer, announcing, “They’ll only take six minutes in the microwave.”

  Just then the front door popped open and Roy’s voice sounded down the hallway. Which made me think of my hallway and blush furiously. Would nothing take my mind off Devlin? I downed half the water I’d just poured into a glass.

  “Probably heard us comin’ from halfway down the street!” I heard Roy say. “Barney roared in next to me in that hot rod of his like he was revving up for the Indy Five Hundred.”

  “Uncle Roy, do n
ot start.” The new voice was deep, male, and laced with kindness. I heard Roy’s nephew address my mom next. “Nice to see you, Ms. Lewis.”

  “Oh, it’s wonderful to see you again, Barney.”

  Roy laughed, a loud firecracker of a sound. Barney let out an audible sigh. I peeked around the corner and saw the backs of their heads—Roy’s taller, graying one and Barney’s reddish-blond.

  “It’s Baron,” Barney said, turning slightly so I saw his profile. “Uncle Roy’s been teasing me and calling me Barney—

  “As in Fife from Andy Griffith!” Roy interjected proudly.

  “—since I joined the force two years ago.” Baron shot an elbow into the ribs of his very tall, mustached uncle.

  Roy guffawed. I smiled. Baron seemed nice. Like a family guy.

  “Oh, you!” Mom gave Roy a playful shove before turning to where I leaned in the doorway. “He teased me this entire time,” she said to me with an eye roll. But her face was warm and happy. Roy made her happy, which made me happy.

  Roy and Baron turned and followed Mom into the kitchen. My would-be suitor wore a nice button-down plaid shirt, his hair cut short and gelled into a simple style. Nothing like Devlin’s carelessly tousled, medium-length, almost-black hair. Baron wasn’t as tall as Dev, but he had a firm, solid build. I pictured him in a police uniform, and it wasn’t a bad picture. Then I pictured Devlin naked and that picture was even better.

  Stop comparing them.

  Baron approached, shoulders back, confidence intact. He offered a hand and a genial smile. “You must be Rena.”

  I shook his hand. No zings of warning, exciting or otherwise, shot through me on contact. Bummer.

  “You, uh, aren’t going to call me Barney, are you?” His smile was teasing, his teeth gleaming and straight. He had a pleasant, attractive face.

  I felt my mouth pull into a smile. “Cross my heart.”

  He swept a hand over his forehead in mock relief. He was probably popular, or had been in high school. Came from a good, normal family. I started to compare his facial features with Devlin’s, but that wasn’t fair. Baron was good-looking in his own way. He had kind, tame blue eyes. Not the electric color of Devlin’s, but a washed-out blue that suited him, and met mine unerringly.

  Over dinner we talked about school, our hobbies, and where we worked. Roy and Mom mostly chatted with each other since Baron and I were wrapped in conversation. He was easy to talk with. I learned he’d played soccer in school, but not to any high standard.

  “I spent a year and a half as a science major in order to become a park ranger, but I shifted to forensic science and focused on law enforcement instead,” he told me.

  “A park ranger.”

  “Not as hot as a cop, right?” He smiled a genuine smile, which I was beginning to suspect was the only smile he had.

  “Damn straight,” Roy interrupted, before turning his attention to his second plate of food.

  “But, like a park ranger,” Baron said with a mock seriousness I found endearing, “I can blow a whistle really loud if I catch you skinny-dipping in the pond.”

  Potatoes went down the wrong way when I laughed, causing me to cough and sputter for a full minute. Baron was half out of his chair despite my waving him off.

  He laughed, but only after I laughed. I laughed so hard, tears streamed down my face. Baron dabbed at the moisture on my cheeks.

  “You’re safe with me. I know the Heimlich.” A sly but sweet smile crossed his lips.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He held my gaze and I felt a mild buzz of awareness between us. Especially when he added, “I hate what a lady-killer I am sometimes.”

  I returned his smile with a watery one of my own. Mom and Roy were clearing the table, leaving us alone. Intentionally?

  Likely.

  Roy’s nephew was a catch. Cute and smart, and able to bring down criminals while packing affable charm. Any girl would be glad to have his attention. Any girl who didn’t belong to the mysterious Devlin Calvary, a man who was involved in “completely illegal” gambling.

  My smile vanished. I didn’t “belong” to Devlin. I wanted to, and that scared me. How had I fallen so hard so fast? To Devlin I was a good girl on loan until he ran out of errands for me, or until his face healed completely and he was back to working the dining room himself.

  Suddenly melancholy, I picked at my slice of rhubarb pie while Baron choked down every miserable bite of his. He was a better, smarter, safer choice for a boyfriend than Devlin.

  Too bad I was done being safe.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rena

  Oak & Sage was hoppin’ for a Sunday night. I strode through the front door, my wool coat’s collar scratching my frigid cheeks. The weather had gotten colder since dinner at Mom’s house. Snow had coated the ground, but at least the roads had been clear. My tires slipped and slid all the way here.

  Inside, the lighting was soft, pale yellow, and glinting off the shining wood walls and dividers. Relieved not to be on the clock, I nodded hello to Heidi, one of the hostesses, and then cut through the bar to the kitchen. Diners, glasses of wine in hand, ordered around the bustling, harried staff.

  The kitchen was a different world. Harsh, bright fluorescents spotlighted the servers that rushed by. The sounds were not of tinkling silver and chatter, but instead clanging pans and sizzling steaks and shouts for orders “on the fly!”

  Chet loaded plates onto a large oval tray and called for a runner. A small smile tickled my lips as I recalled Devlin demanding I meet him in the office. If he’d intended to scare me off, the tactic had failed.

  I’d shown up tonight, after my “date” no less, like he asked. I wanted to believe I was merely helping out a friend in need, but I knew the truth. I was helping him because in that office, when he’d stripped my pants from my legs, he’d been sweet and doting. I showed tonight because of what he did to me, and he did that to me because he knew I’d show up.

  I wished I could get to a point where I wasn’t okay with that transaction.

  I dodged the dishwasher, who sped by me with a net on his hair and a stack of clean plates in his hands. No sign of Devlin in the prep area, and the office door was closed, the window dark. I kept walking, past the maintenance closet—empty—and past the employee bathrooms—also empty.

  Where is he?

  At the storeroom my steps slowed when a feminine giggle punctuated the air. Devlin’s soft and almost… soothing voice followed. Their conversation sounded intimate. Too intimate. My reaction was instant and intense. Fists balled at my sides, I entered the room, mouth poised to interrupt. What I found stole my words before I could say them.

  Melinda, so tall she stood nearly eye-to-eye with Devlin, had her back against a shelf. She was eyeing him like she wanted to take a bite out of him. He wasn’t touching her, but his hand rested on the shelf next to her. He was leaning over her ear, his body arched toward hers.

  Bastard.

  Her gaze cut to me and she reached up to touch Devlin’s black T-shirt. I trailed my gaze over his strong back, then down to his black-with-white-skulls chef’s pants. By the time I jerked my gaze to his face, he was regarding me without an ounce of guilt. He hadn’t backed away from her in the slightest.

  “Give us ten seconds,” he told me, then he turned back to Melinda.

  Oh, hell, no.

  I flew from the room, leaving him with the blonde I was now sure I hated, and stomped away, pausing for not one but two prep guys leaving the walk-in fridge. Once they dispersed, I shoved open the back door and nearly plowed over another employee crushing a cigarette under his shoe. He was the same guy who’d yelled at me the day I had trouble with the touch screen. He went inside, brushing by me without a word. Jackass.

  Before I could decide what to do now that I was at the back of the restaurant and my car was parked out front, Devlin called my name.

  “Go away.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow. His expression didn’t
hold enough remorse to suit me.

  God, it was freezing out here. It was going to be a long walk to my car. I’d rather freeze than walk past Devlin to go back inside, though. Plus the frigid air might tame my temper, which admittedly needed taming. As much as I’d like to jump in my car and peel out, giving Devlin the finger while I was at it, the smarter move was to leave as gracefully as possible, and not run my fender into a telephone pole on the way home. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and steeled myself for a cold walk.

  “I’m not chasing you, Rena.”

  “Good!” I pulled my face out of my collar to shout. I didn’t want him to follow me. I fisted my hands in my pockets and wished I hadn’t left my gloves in the car.

  Two seconds later, Devlin jogged up next to me, then stood in front of me and held up his palms. I stopped and gave him my most evil glare.

  “I thought you weren’t chasing me.”

  “Chasing you would mean I was behind you.” He leaned close and murmured, “And we both know how much you like me behind you.”

  He smiled and I wanted to slap his cocky mouth. I tried to hate him, but parts of me were not cooperating. I gave a silent, stern lecture to my hormones. Come on, we all need to be on the same page, here.

  Devlin folded his bare arms over his chest and blew out a visible breath. No coat. What a genius.

  “You’re cold,” I pointed out.

  “Aw, you do care.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck me.” His face pleated. His smile vanished.

  “You’re pissed. Good. Welcome to the club.”

  His eyes were hot enough to weld iron when I brushed past him. I continued walking, even though every cell in my body behaved as if it were magnetized to him. Dammit. That whole trying-to-hate-him thing wasn’t working.

  A black SUV parked in the direction I was walking roared to life, the taillights on. I paused, waiting for it to reverse, but it didn’t move. Then Devlin walked past me, key fob in hand, his breath billowing overhead like smoke. Remote starter.