I don’t laugh, even though I want to, a lot. Diane has been driving everyone crazy since we got here, forcing pairings and doing another rehearsal dinner—we’ve already had to suffer through the first one—while flitting around and making poor Lila’s life a misery.
“Still. I should go back and apologize.”
“Well, you could, but I reckon they’d be none too pleased that you ran away to begin with,” he crows, pulling out and into the narrow corridor.
He’s still laughing his ass off, and I’m so steamed by his attitude I could scream. I do.
“This is all your fault! You were the one messing around down there, not me. If you’d kept you lips to yourself—”
“Beg pardon, are you blaming me for that malarkey down there? If I recall correctly, you were the one who threw the shoe without looking,” he points out reasonably, unlocking his door and pulling me into the room.
“It’s not my fault! You had your lips on my neck…and, and your hand was…and then you whispered right in….and, and I couldn’t focus on anything. You said I had to throw.”
“No, I said it’s time for you to let go. As in you need to stop being afraid of what your family wants and finally start taking what you want.”
Chapter Seven
I think about what he said all through lunch and well into the day, after countless games spent avoiding his eyes. Confusion has been my companion, and not because I didn’t understand his subtle insinuation that I’ve been letting my dad’s disapproval color my entire life—I mean, I freaking hate working at that law firm—and rule everything I do.
I even freaking choose the toilet paper I buy according to someone else’s standards, because eventually one of my brothers will be by for their quarterly check-up and I know they only use certain brands.
How pathetic does that make me?
No, what I’m confused about is why Devon suddenly seems more interested in me than he’s been all my life. I’m not dumb, the guy’s throwing out signals obvious enough to land a freaking jet.
I just can’t understand why.
And then it hits me. I’d caught the tail end of Lila’s conversation with him, and she’d definitely let it slip that I still have my V-card—something I have yet to throttle her ass for spilling.
Could Devon Baxter really be one of those assholes who sniffs around a girl because he wants to go where no man has gone before? But no, I’d come on pretty strong the night of Grey and Lila’s engagement party—I’d been bombed off my ass on the tequila Lila hadd been slipping me—but Devon hadn’t batted a lash. Hence my renewed stammering around the guy.
Nothing kills your confidence like the subtle brush off. In his case being totally ignored, as if you don’t exist.
But now, now I think he’s totally flirting with me—okay, so I don’t really know, since I’m not familiar with the phenomenon, but I think—and the thought of Devon wanting more from me than a few days of friendly companionship is so…perfect!
Okay, not perfect, since I suspect he’s going to pull a pump and dump on me; he’s a player, I’m sad to say. But I can work with that if it’s all I’ll be getting.
At least I’ll get my biggest wish since I’d turned sixteen and realized my feelings involved a lot more heat than my girlish mind had thought. I’ve been thinking about him as my V-puncher since then and have only recently, in the last four years, let go of that fantasy.
I’m happy to report that if my spidey senses are in tune, the guy wants to do me, maidenhead or not. I just have to figure out a way to tell him I am so on board with that plan.
Problem is, I am not even slightly knowledgeable about seduction. At all.
“What’s got you so dinky?”
Oh, where to start? By the way, I almost killed your mother with a flying horseshoe and then ran like a yellow-bellied chicken? Maybe not the best idea, since the woman looks like she went a round with Apollo Creed.
“If I tell you something, you have to swear, like, on your ovaries, that you won’t tell another living soul,” I whisper, leaning in to her so no one hears.
Lila gets her serious face and makes a cross over her heart before kissing her fist.
“Okay, so I think Devon may be like, flirting with me? And I’m not very sure about what to do. Is that even possible?”
“Well of course it is, silly! I keep telling you you’re super-hot with that hourglass figure and your big bajongas, but you won’t see it. And yeah, I agree, he seems to be into you. Just look at the way he’s been staring at you all night.”
I manage to restrain myself and keep from staring over at him, because I’m pretty sure my eyes resemble cow eyes at the moment.
“So what should I do? I couldn’t seduce an eighty-year-old on Viagra, and we both know it. God, the last time I tried to talk to a guy he kept asking me if I had something in my eye.”
Yeah, and then I’d gone home and eaten half a gallon of store bought chocolate mousse and a spray can of whipped cream.
“You don’t have to seduce, Becks, you just have to let him know you’re up for it if that’s what he wants.”
“Oookaaay. How. Tell me like you’d explain to a half-deaf foreign national who doesn’t understand a word of English.”
We both crack up at that, because I say it in a voice that leaves no one in doubt that I need her to talk really slowly. By the time she’s done ‘schooling’ me we’re both laughing so hard we don’t notice that the whole table has gone quiet and everyone’s staring at us.
And I’m pretty sure I snorted at some point—okay, all the time I was laughing—while giggling at her theatrical representation of how to go down on a man.
“What has you two laughing so hard?”
“Nothing, Mama.”
I can hardly keep a straight face when Lila shoves her tongue in her cheek and wiggles it around, her green eyes dancing with mischief.
“We were talking about knitting, Mrs S,” she trills. “Remember when she made you that bright orange afghan?”
That takes care of things nicely. Everyone starts laughing about my revenge gifts, and I can breathe again—that is, till I look up and catch Devon staring at me, his lips quirked.
The look is so knowing I blush again, redder than a tomato, but instead of avoiding his gaze and pretending he’s not there, like I do every other time, I keep my eyes trained on his and let him see me.
“Jesus, wait till you’re alone, girlfriend. You’re gonna set my hair on fire.”
Dinner goes quickly after that, and I’m damned grateful, since the looks he’s sending me are just this side on incendiary and I’m pretty sure if they don’t stop my panties are either gonna catch fire or slip straight down, I’m so hot for him.
I make it to my room without mishap and am headed straight for the shower and a clean pair of panties when there’s a knock at the door.
“Swear to God, Lila, if your mother wants me to try that dress on again I’ll—”
My breath stalls in my chest when he smiles and bears me back into the room, his hands enfolding my hips, taking my back to the wall as he kicks the door shut with his foot and pins me beneath his much larger body.
“Say it.”
What? I can hardly think when one of his knees thrusts between my legs and presses up, right where I need him, want him.
“I can’t be the one to make this decision, imp. Say it or I have to leave.”
Oh.
“Can we talk about this?” I ask, feeling a blush cover me when he pulls away and the leg of his pants comes away with a wet spot.
His eyes follow mine, and a growl whispers up his throat.
“We should, but try and make it quick. Please. I can smell you, and it’s making things harder.”
The words set up a fragile jittering down south, but I nod and scuttle past him, sinking into a corner of the sofa and looking up at him, my nerves a frazzled mess.
“I don’t understand what’s going on—”
“You do,”
he cuts in, running a hand through his hair, his eyes daring me to argue.
“Yes, and no. I’ve never… You’re looking at me like you want me, and I’m not sure what to do with that. No, let me finish. You know, I heard Lila, and I know that you…but when I say I’ve never, I mean I can’t even flirt with a guy, never have, well, I tried once but I ended up looking like a sick cow. So lay it all out for me. What is it you want from me?”
This is the first time in forever that I’ve said anything halfway intelligible without the help of my temper, but I force the words out because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I won’t ever go into anything without knowing what I need to.
For all I know the guy’s bored and looking at me for some free weekend booty. Not that I’d say no, I mean this is so…but I’d prefer to hear it from his lips before doing anything I can’t back away from.
I see him breathe out, and then he’s on the sofa, his body turned my way, his eyes drilling into mine with so much intensity I swallow and force myself not to retreat.
“I want you. All of you. For whatever time we have left of this week.”
Five days.
“But I won’t sit here and lie to you just to get what I want. I’m not a total wanker. This will be sex. Good sex, but just sex. When the week’s up I will leave and go back to my life.”
Huh.
“So this is what? You wanting to break the barrier and skip away, pretend nothing happened when you come back for visits and anniversaries?” I ask, clarifying it further.
“Exactly. Look, I don’t want to hurt you by giving you false hope, but I have a life to go back to. I have a family who depend on me and no room for anything else.”
I nod, recalling what Grey has told my parents. Devon is one of four boys, the eldest, and has been looking after his three brothers since his parents died in a car crash when he was twenty.
I know he’d struggled to keep them all together while trying to start up his business and keep three rambunctious boys fed and in school. I know that Garret is going off to college and that the younger two—David and Ryan—are seniors in high school, or whatever they call it over there.
“So…”
“I’ll be blunt. I want you. I want to do things to you that your brother will probably kill me for if he ever finds out, things that will probably shock you. I’ll teach you things about your body, about a man’s body, that will bring us both so much pleasure you’ll wonder why you never tried it before. And then we’ll carry on as we have been. Living separate lives.”
“And you won’t ever look at me that way again?”
“No.”
That hurts a little, but I push the feeling aside, wanting to heed his words and just let go, for once in my miserable life. As it is I’m stuck in a job I hate, and I’ll probably sit for the bar and do everything my family expects. This is something I can do for myself and hold close as I live in misery, probably till I marry a guy they approve of and have two point five kids.
I can do this. No, I want to do this, and hold the secret close when I’m alone and wishing for things that I know I can never have.
Chapter Eight
Dev
The words leave my mouth, and I curse silently, regretting them as soon as they hit the air. Everything I’ve said to her is true. I refuse to lie to her and give her hope where there is none, but that doesn’t mean I want her to feel like she means nothing to me.
As if all we’d have is a cheap, sordid affair that will be easily forgotten. I know that won’t be the case, and I accept it, some part of me, the part I buried deep when Mum and Dad died, relishing the opportunity to feel more than the skin-deep pleasure of an empty orgasm.
The even emptier ache of the loneliness I’ve been feeling of late.
“If we do this you have to promise not…” Her words falter, but I stay calm, silent, and wait her out, knowing that she needs to take this final step.
I’d resolved to let her come to me, and my plan had worked just fine, except that I hadn’t been stable enough to take that heated look of hers over dinner and then watch her walk into her room alone.
It’s galling, but I have less control now than I did at sixteen, and I know that sleeping alone tonight is not an option. I want her too much, need the comfort I can sense lurking in her soft golden eyes, and I can’t wait another night to claim it.
“I’m not perfect, and I know that you’re used to skinny blondes with air for brains, and…just don’t be harsh about my weight, okay?” she says, biting her lip and avoiding my gaze.
Really? She’s made my dick harder than a bloody post, and she thinks I’ll have a bad word to say about her? I’ll have to do something about her lack of confidence, and I plan to, just as soon as she gives me the go ahead and lets me rip her clothes off.
I can almost taste all that lushness now that I’m within an inch of taking it, and I’m starving. Ravenous for all the softness she seems to think is a bad thing.
“You’re fucking perfect just as you are,” I growl, thumbing her lips free of her teeth and forcing her eyes back to mine. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re built like a real woman, and I don’t ever want you to believe anything less.”
She shrugs and nods, a move I’ve seen countless times and one that means she doesn’t believe me but isn’t going to argue.
Oh well, I’ll just have to prove it.
“Are you ready, imp?”
Her slight nod is barely perceptible, but I accept it for what it is, permission, and take her hand, pulling her up and into the bedroom. Once there I see the pulse of her heart in her neck and stifle a grin, thinking of the pounding it will soon turn to when I get my hands on all those abundant curves.
“Take it off. Please.”
This is the first time in my life that I haven’t been the one to undress first before attacking a woman’s clothing. I usually get things done quickly and efficiently due to my need to get things moving along so I can move on to other things, namely business or the endless family things, but I need for this to be completely her choice.
I’ll wake up tomorrow morning with regrets—not for wanting her, but that I’m purposefully setting out to take her innocence, but I want one less regret. I need to know I haven’t coerced her.
I see her swallow and will my strength into her when her fingers meet the zipper at her side and pull it down, the trembling making the task much slower than I would like.
The dress gapes open, hanging on her breasts for a breath before she shrugs and lets it drop to her bare feet, leaving her clad in white silk panties and nothing else.
“Jesus.”
I can’t say anything else because I’m tongue-tied and speechless. She’s perfect, utterly perfect, from her creamy-skinned breasts, large and high with dark pink nipples, to her gently rounded stomach and her soft, satiny thighs.
I can’t look at her sex yet because I’m so hard from just a glimpse of her treasures that I’m afraid I’ll fall on her like a ravening beast.
“Uh.”
“No, don’t hide from me.”
Is that my voice? I wonder, clearing the croak from my suddenly dry throat.
“Can I turn the light out?”
“Not on your bloody life,” I snarl, stepping closer to pull her in to my chest.
The zing of arousal that zips through me from that light contact makes my breath stutter, and I fight a growl when she leans in, pressing her nipples into my chest.
The move brings my dick into contact with her soft belly and she stiffens, making to pull away, so I slide my hands down and grip her fabulous backside, hoisting her up and bringing her legs around my waist.
That sits her core right over my hard dick, and I groan, making a valiant effort not to pull her closer and dry hump her like a teenaged boy.
“I’m too heavy,” she squeaks, wiggling to be put down.
The movement sends her heat shimmying over my dick and I groan, pushing my face into her sweet-smelli
ng neck as I try to calm the storm of lust raging through me.
When the wet spot on her panties makes contact through my pants, I lose the battle and practically throw her on the bed, coming down and over her, my mouth voracious as I lean down and lick my way into her gasping mouth and use my tongue to tell her how truly, very much I want her.
She kisses me back, her tongue taking tiny licks into my mouth, and I let go and drown in her, inhaling her taste into me and forcing my own into her.
I’ve never felt this intoxicated with just one taste before, and it scares me half to death, the need that’s raging through me with nothing more than the meeting of lips and tongue.
I pull back, not sure what to do—
“Don’t stop. Please,” she gasps, pulling my head back down and shoving her hips into mine.
I realize I’ve been grinding into her the whole time and groan. She protests when I pull away and sit up, attacking my shirt and pants like a madman.
Her eyes widen and almost fall out when she sees my boy, and I grin, nodding minutely. He’s big, a lot bigger than most, but he knows what he wants and how to do the job right.
“Oh, cripes. That’s never—”
“Sshh,” I laugh, placing a finger over her trembling lips. “We’ll fit perfectly. Now lie back and relax. I have a lot of fantasizing to make reality.”
And I do. I explore every inch of her smooth skin with my hands, starting at her breasts and the pebbled nipples and making my way down to her toes before flipping her over and exploring her ample arse.
By the time I allow my mouth and tongue freedom she’s shaking and moaning, her hips bumping up in a rhythm that’s begging me for one thing and one thing only.
“Oh. My. God.”
I smile against her wet sex and give her what she needs, grinding myself into the mattress to relieve the ache while I suck her to her first orgasm. When she gets there she seizes up and screams, pulling my hair so hard I wince.
LAWSON (A Standalone Billionaire Romance Novel) Page 78
