by Tiffany Snow
I also hoped I’d be able to sleep without dwelling on Devon. I’d replayed every moment, every conversation between us since the first time I’d laid eyes on him in the bank. I had no one else to blame but myself for falling for his lies. If only it hadn’t seemed so real. I remembered the way he’d helped me talk about Jace and my past. How could someone do that if they didn’t care about me at all, but were just using me?
Questions like these had swirled inside my head since Paris, and I had no more answers tonight than I had at any other time.
Pushing the disturbing thoughts aside, I got ready for bed, pulling on an expensive champagne-colored silk nightgown that Logan had gotten me for Christmas. (“Really, Logan?” “What? You love pajamas!”) After plugging in the Christmas tree lights in my room so it wasn’t dark, I climbed into bed, pulling the heavy covers up over me. The only way not to freeze in a tiny nighty in the middle of winter was with a ton of blankets.
I stared at the Christmas tree until I fell asleep, willing myself not to think about Devon or wonder where he was, what he was doing, or if he thought about me at all. . . .
A hand covered my mouth and I woke up with a start, a scream climbing from my throat and my hands flying up to pull at the arm holding me down.
“Shh. It’s me.”
I froze at the words, the voice, blinking and trying to focus on the figure looming over me. Slowly, the hand peeled away and he sank down to sit beside me on the bed.
“Devon?” Stunned, I just stared, then panic hit. With the covers over me, I couldn’t squirm away. So I lashed out with my fists, trying to hit him, but he caught my wrists. I pulled as hard as I could, but couldn’t get free. “Please,” I gasped, terrified. “Please. Don’t kill me.”
“Kill you? What are you talking about? Stop fighting me.”
Cautiously, I stilled.
“Is that why you ran? You thought I was going to kill you? Bloody hell, Ivy, you nearly gave me heart failure that night when I couldn’t find you.”
In one swift movement, he yanked back the blankets, exposing my skin to the chill night air.
“What’re you doing?” I squeaked.
“I’m checking to make sure you’re in one piece,” he retorted, and sure enough, his hands were touching me everywhere, as though checking for broken limbs. I tried to bat him away, but he was too quick and, in another moment, he’d grabbed my arms and hauled me upright until we were face-to-face.
“Are you feeling all right? Heinrich didn’t give you anything, did he?” He pushed the hair back from my face, turning my head so the dim light fell on me.
“N-no, he didn’t,” I stammered, utterly confused. I’d nearly given Devon “heart failure?” He wasn’t going to kill me?
“Thank heaven for that,” he muttered. Both his hands slid behind my neck to cradle my nape and then he was kissing me breathless, like he’d been gone for a year and thought we’d never see each other again.
He pulled me in, like he’d always been able to do, bending me to his will. But I was confused and upset and after several long moments of his tongue sliding against mine, my head trapped by his hands, I tried to turn away.
“No, stop!” I tugged at his arms and he finally eased up, his hands dropping to rest on my arms. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. I had many questions, but this one fell out first.
Devon sighed. “You’re angry,” he said.
“Really? Are you picking up on that?” I retorted. “You lied to me. Used me—”
“And you lied to me. Betrayed me,” he interrupted.
“I did that to save your life! Heinrich told me he’d kill you if I didn’t bring him the journal and pendant.” I shook my head. “I wasn’t about to let that happen—”
“Neither was I.” Devon’s voice was loud in the room, and it shut me up. For a moment.
“You knew I’d been given the vaccine,” I accused, my voice more calm.
“I suspected,” he said. “I didn’t know for sure. Not until he exposed you to the virus.”
“So that was an experiment?” I hissed, outraged. “To see if I’d survive?”
“No,” he bit out. “I had no way of saving you. I didn’t know if you’d live, or if you’d die in my arms that night. It made you ill, but the vaccine was enough to fight it off. That’s when I knew.”
“And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me?”
“Why? To frighten you? Make you run from me? The safest place for you was at my side. Once Heinrich realized you were still alive, he was bound to come after you.”
The truth, though I’d suspected all along, was a lot harder to hear coming from Devon’s mouth. My eyes stung and my throat closed.
“So the whole thing,” I managed in a choked whisper, “Paris, you and me, all the things you said, it was all a lie. Just a way to keep me with you.”
Devon’s hands slid up and down my chilled arms. I wanted to move away, make him stop, but part of me craved his touch.
“Is that what you think?” he asked.
“You lied to me. You said the vaccine was in the journal.”
“It was.”
I stared at him, confused. “But, you told Heinrich—”
“What I had to tell him to save your life,” he interrupted. “If he thought the only vaccine available was inside you, I hoped he wouldn’t kill you.”
“So the coded pages,” I said, trying to understand. “It’s really the formula.”
Devon nodded. “If you’d given them to Heinrich, it would have been very, very bad. But when he said the pages were gone, I realized I’d underestimated you.” He said this with a little smile.
“But you saw me go,” I reminded him. “You were so angry and then he was dead and I saw you. I saw you watching me . . . and you let me go. Alone.” The terror of that evening came back to me and I swallowed hard.
“Ah, sweet Ivy,” he murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “If I hadn’t let you go, the Shadow would have you now, and you’d be beyond even my reach.”
I frowned in confusion. “What?”
“No one knows you carry the vaccine,” he explained. “Heinrich is dead and I’ve told no one the secret. I destroyed all his records of you. The Shadow knows you only as an innocent civilian caught up briefly in this web.”
“But you could’ve lied to them—”
“I had a very brief amount of time where I could have gone after you, or destroyed all evidence of you in Heinrich’s labs and servers. I chose the latter.”
I stared into the cool blue of his eyes, wondering if I could believe him. I wanted to. I wanted to so very much. But that left a lot of questions, and he still hadn’t answered the very first one I asked.
“So what are you doing here?” I asked again. “Especially if they’ll come for me if they find out what’s inside me?” But he didn’t answer my question. Instead, he replied with one of his own.
“Do you have the pages?”
My heart sank. So that’s why he was here. I hid my disappointment, shaking my head as I lied. “Sorry, but you’re too late. I destroyed them in Paris.”
Devon searched my eyes and I held my breath. At last, he gave a little nod. “That’s unfortunate,” he said, “but it’s not the sole reason I’m here.”
“Then why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” His voice held a trace of bitterness. “You’ve gotten under my skin, little Ivy, something I’d vowed would never happen again. I wanted to stay away, and yet, here I am.”
I looked down so he wouldn’t see the tears filling my eyes. It was less than I’d been hoping for, but more than I thought he’d say. My hair fell in a curtain to conceal my face and Devon brushed it back with a gentle hand.
“You could have died,” he said. “Heinrich nearly killed you. I almost lost you. Twice. Both times,
right in front of my eyes and not a damn thing I could do about it. Why would you put yourself at risk?”
I shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “I had no choice,” I said, lifting my gaze to his. I hesitated, but knew I had to say it. I had to tell him the truth.
“I love you.”
Devon didn’t speak. He didn’t even move. I held my breath, afraid of what he’d say—or wouldn’t say—next. When he did speak, his voice was a broken rasp.
“You shouldn’t.”
He dragged me onto his lap, his lips finding mine in the semidarkness. My arms twined around his neck as we kissed, desperate and fevered. It took only a moment for me to undo his tie and slip it from underneath his collar, then I went to work on the buttons of his shirt while he shrugged off his jacket and holster, his gun thudding softly to the floor.
Devon pressed me back on the bed, kissing me hard before sitting up to strip off his pants and shoes. I bent my knees, spreading my thighs for him to lie between as I reached eagerly for him.
“This is pretty,” he murmured against my lips, his fingers tugging at the silk nighty. His mouth trailed down my neck and I gasped.
“Thank you. It . . . was a gift,” I managed to say. My hand reached between us, grasping the hard length of him.
“A gift from whom?” he asked, his head lifting slightly. The warning in his voice should have alerted me, but I was too busy squirming out of my panties.
“Logan gave it to me for Christmas.”
The straps bit into my shoulders and the next moment, the fragile silk was being torn, shredded in two down the front of my body.
“Devon!” I squeaked. “What are you—”
“The only man who will be buying you lingerie is me,” he growled.
I had no opportunity to argue, his mouth descending on mine with a force I couldn’t deny. I wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him inside me, but he pulled back.
“Sorry, darling,” he said, moving down my body. “Give me a moment. I’ve been craving the taste of you.”
His head settled between my thighs, pushing them farther apart. His fingers spread the folds hiding my core and the warm slide of his tongue against me made my eyes slam shut.
“Oh God,” I moaned, burying my fingers in his hair. Any lingering shyness I’d had over this particular act was long gone, his passion and skill overcoming all that.
And Devon was incredibly skilled at this, the touch of his lips and tongue slow and searing, gradually building my arousal until I was panting and my legs trembled. My clit throbbed with each teasing brush of his tongue. He slid a finger inside me and I moaned at the sensation.
“Oh God, yes, please, Devon . . .”
Coherent thought was beyond me now as he focused his considerable attention on my clit, flicking it with his tongue in hard, fast strokes. His finger pumped inside of me and a constant litany of moans and gasps fell from my lips. I was so close . . . and then I shattered completely, riding the wave of pleasure as he continued to lap at me.
I tugged at Devon’s hair, needing to kiss him and feel the hard length of his cock inside me. Crawling up my body, his lips met mine in a searing kiss and I could taste myself on his tongue. I was so wet, the thrust of his cock penetrating me was easy.
I whimpered deep in my throat at the sensation of Devon filling me, possessing me. I’d tried not to think of how much I’d missed him, missed this, but now it all came rushing back.
“So good,” he murmured against my lips. “So perfect with you.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up to straddle his lap as he sat back on his knees. My legs were spread apart, pushing his cock deeper inside me. I still had the silk nightgown hanging from my shoulders and he slid the straps down my arms before tossing the fabric aside.
His mouth moved to my neck, sucking hard at the tender skin, while his hands settled on my hips. My head fell back and my eyes slid shut. I could feel the brush of my hair against my lower back.
Devon thrust into me, his hold on my hips moving me, too. The slide of his flesh against mine was addictive. I could feel my body straining for release again, but I fought it, not wanting this to end. My breasts were pressed against his chest, the faint scattering of hair teasing my overly sensitive nipples.
A harsh groan left Devon as he pulled me down to him and the pulse of his cock as he came was more than I could stand. My orgasm rushed over me again, my body gripping his and tearing another groan from his throat.
His breath was hot against my neck as we both gulped in air. My body felt boneless in his arms, his fingers lazily tracing a pattern against the skin of my back. My head rested on his shoulder and when he lay down on his back, keeping me in place on top of him, I didn’t resist. I could hear the beat of his heart as I lay there, and I memorized the sound.
Devon’s fingers combed slowly through my hair and we didn’t speak, which was fine. There was plenty to talk about, but I just wanted to enjoy this moment for a while longer.
“How did you know you’d find me here?” I asked.
“I spent two days searching Paris, then saw your name listed on a flight manifest back to the States,” he said. “How did you get back here? You had no money and no passport.”
“I, um, called that agent,” I said. “The one I’d spoken to earlier.”
Devon’s hand stilled. “What did you tell him?”
“It turned out he was already in Paris,” I said, avoiding the questions. “He followed us. Well, you, really. He was able to work with the embassy to get me a new passport and fly me back home.”
“What did you tell him?” Devon repeated, this time tipping my head up so I was forced to meet his eyes.
I swallowed hard, then lied to him. “Nothing,” I said. “I didn’t tell him anything. Just that you and I’d had a bad fight.”
Devon searched my eyes as though gauging the truthfulness of my words. I’d lied instinctively, afraid of what he’d do if he knew I’d told Scott so much. What would he do to me? What would he do to Scott?
“Scott came by earlier and told me they were closing the case as unsolved,” I said, anxious to move on.
“Scott?”
“Agent Lane,” I clarified.
Devon’s hand resumed stroking my hair. “And you’re on a first-name basis?” he asked.
I shrugged, settling my head back against his chest. “He was nice to me in Paris.”
“How nice was he?”
Even I wasn’t deaf enough not to hear the note of jealousy in Devon’s voice. Resting my arm on his chest, I propped my chin on it so I could look at him.
“Are you jealous?” I teased.
“I don’t get jealous,” he said.
“Hmm. Are you sure? That sounded an awful lot like jealousy to me.” I winked at him.
Devon didn’t reply, he just brushed his knuckles down my cheek, his eyes serious. My grin faded and in my gut I knew something bad was coming.
“I have to leave in the morning,” he said. “I won’t be back.”
My stomach dropped to my toes.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve told you this can’t last,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “It’s dangerous. I’m dangerous.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but still . . . “I don’t care.”
“You’re young,” he mused. “Too young to understand, I think.”
My chest was tight as I could see I was getting nowhere in trying to persuade him. Tossing aside my pride, I flat out begged. “Please, Devon, please don’t say it’s over. No one has ever made me feel like you do.” At the question in his eyes, I took a deep breath. “Before you, I could barely tolerate a man kissing me, holding me, without feeling trapped and afraid. You broke through all that, somehow, and I’m afraid that if you leave . . . I’ll never have that, or want that
, with anyone else ever again. So please, I’ll take anything you’ll give me. Just, please, don’t say I won’t see you again.”
I didn’t care how needy and pathetic I may have sounded. I was desperate not to lose him and if I thought something I might say had a chance of changing his mind, then I was going to say it, pride be damned. I held my breath, waiting.
“It’s been . . . a very long time since I’ve cared for someone,” he said at last, “and I told you the reason. I’d rather say goodbye to you on my terms, rather than at someone else’s hand.”
My eyes slipped closed in dismay, the tears I’d been holding back now spilling out. It was over then. He wouldn’t change his mind.
Devon’s thumb brushed my cheek, wiping the wetness away. “I can’t offer you anything you’d want, any sort of proper relationship. I can’t even say how often you’d see me.”
A spark of hope flared inside me, and my eyes flew open to meet his, their clear blue steady and resigned.
He smiled, though it was a little sad. “What do you say to this—I won’t put you in danger, but I promise that you will see me again. Is that better? Is that enough?”
My smile was tremulous. “Yes.” It would have to be. The alternative was unthinkable. I couldn’t begin to cope with never seeing Devon again.
Rolling us over, he put me on my back as he leaned over me, one leg insinuated between my thighs. He lowered his head and kissed me, as though to seal our pact.
“I have a request,” he murmured, sliding his nose alongside mine and pressing his lips softly to my cheek, then the corner of my eye.
“Anything.” His skin was warm beneath my fingers as my hands skated over the muscles in his back and shoulders.
“I want you to move out.”
My eyes popped open and I frowned. “Move out? Why? Where would I go?”
“You can stay in my flat,” he said.
“But you’re leaving.”
“Which means you’ll have it to yourself until I return. No one knows about it but me. You’ll be safe there.”
