by Lydia Rowan
She sobbed and reached down, covering his hand with her own. She tried to buck her hips, but his arm was a metal band around her waist, immobilizing her. He wouldn’t repeat himself; she knew that, and, God help her and pride be damned, she needed him enough to say the words out loud.
“Yes! Yes, I would.”
The satisfied-sounding growl that rolled through his chest made her womb clench.
“As you wish, nebesa.”
The sound of his lowering zipper should have shocked her back to her senses, made her stop, but it only spurred her desire, made her that much more eager for him. She mewled low when the blunt head of his cock made contact with her dripping cunt, the sound turning sharper and higher pitched when he stroked himself against her clit.
Then he teased her opening with a few shallow thrusts, each movement seating him a little deeper, until he was halfway inside, the pool of her arousal aiding his entry. He paused and whispered in her ear, “Kiss me.”
She could deny him nothing, certainly not a kiss, but the sweetness of his request, the underlying vulnerability that she’d never heard, made her melt.
She loved this man.
The new awareness buoyed her, and with a lightness she’d scarcely ever felt, she turned slightly and offered her lips. He thrust and filled her the rest of the way as their lips touched. They kissed, deep and hard, the intertwining of their lips and tongues a perfect mimic of their mating bodies.
It didn’t take much to send her over the precipice, and soon, too soon, she felt herself come apart. D’yavol increased his speed, now thrusting in a rapid frenzy, and soon he pulled out of her, spilling himself in the fabric of her skirt. He stayed there and held her until both of their tremors passed. She leaned up to kiss him, and he returned the gesture, though this exchange was less frenzied.
Finally he pulled back and tucked himself into his pants, a furrow creasing his brow.
“I ruined your dress.”
She smiled at him and smoothed the skin of his brow, and he looked at her, gave her wrist a tender kiss.
He returned her smile, his eyes lightening, giving his face a bright, youthful look.
“But it was worth it, yes?”
She smiled again. “Oh, yes!”
They both laughed, but after a moment, he hugged her and then looked at her earnestly.
“Julie, will you spend the night with me?”
“I’d be honored.”
Chapter Nine
They walked back to the car in silence, though D’yavol kept an arm wrapped around her waist, reluctant to break contact. He’d never lost control like that before, but the feel of her, pressed against her chest, the cool night air, the fantasy of him and Julie alone in the world… add to that the soft, sexy noises she made, and at the first touch of her slickened sex, he was a goner.
As they approached the car, he looked around the mostly empty parking lot, aware that, while he wished it otherwise, his vigilance wouldn’t allow him to pretend that he and Julie were just a happy couple on a date. He caught sight of a man partially obscured by shadows and pulled Julie closer. But the man dropped and stubbed out a cigarette and entered the restaurant through a back entrance.
He exhaled and opened the passenger door before settling Julie inside. Recriminations raced through his mind during the short trip around the car. He’d been careless. Again. And in more ways than one this time. He got into the car and looked over at Julie, who smiled shyly at him, her eyes shining even in the dark moonlight. Almost despite himself, he reached over and stroked her cheek, the contact eliciting a deeper smile. He retracted his hand, buckled himself in, and reversed the car, thoughts of the evening weighing on him as he pulled off.
“What is it?” Julie asked after several minutes of silence.
“What do you mean?”
“You have that look you get sometimes, when something’s on your mind.”
He looked over at her quickly, surprised. Others had always complimented him, or complained, depending on the circumstances, about his controlled expression.
“It’s okay, D’yavol. You don’t have to stay over. I understand what this is, so don’t worry about me, okay? I won’t get clingy.”
Her voice was calm, placating, and D’yavol flashed a quick glance at her, saw her even expression, and felt a stab of irritation in his gut.
“And what if my baby is inside you, eh? You won’t get clingy even then?”
His tone was gruff, far rougher than he’d even used with her, but, as another quick glance revealed, Julie was uncowed.
“There are ways to take care of those things,” she said simply.
White-knuckled, he gripped the steering wheel so tight he was worried he might rip it right off. He took a hard left into a parking lot and put the car in park. One, two, three deep breaths later, he looked over at Julie, who now faced away from him, though he could see the stern set of her profile, the tightness around her lips.
“Look at me,” he commanded, and she turned her head toward him. “Take care of these things how, Julie?” he said, his tone even gruffer, words low and almost slurred with suppressed anger. He couldn’t make himself say the words, could barely think them, but he had to hear her response.
“I’m on the pill, have been since…” She trailed off and waved a hand between them, her meaning clear. “And I’d planned to get a morning-after pill tomorrow, just in case,” she said. “They’re effective in these situations.”
He hadn’t considered that, should have been relieved that Julie had the foresight he so sorely lacked, but still he pressed. “And if it wasn’t?”
“If it wasn’t what?” she said, a hint of frustration leaking into her tone.
“If you had my baby growing inside you, what would you do?”
She sat up straight, her shoulders tight and her expression rigid. “What do you want me to say, D’yavol?” Her eyes still burned bright but now with anger and not the happiness that had been there short minutes ago. “We’d get married, move to the suburbs, you’d be my Lamaze coach, and we’d be a perfect sitcom family? What a joke.” She leaned back, the anger seeping out of her. “I’d keep it, and I’d love it,” she said, her tone wistful, “so I guess I’d just be another poor single mother, a statistic, as they say.”
The sad resolve in her tone hurt him more than any punch, stab, or shot ever could.
“You think I would abandon you? My child?”
She shrugged. “Who’s to say? Maybe, maybe not. But I learned a long time ago that the only person I can trust, rely on, is myself.”
D’yavol didn’t respond. Instead he put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence, this time tense and fraught as opposed to easy and companionable. She wouldn’t even look in his direction, staring out of the window, her empty expression giving away nothing.
“Wait, you missed the turn. My house is in the other direction.”
“I know where I’m going, Julie,” he said, and she looked over at him but didn’t speak.
Fifteen minutes passed, and they drove through the residential district and into the more industrial area of town. He circled the abandoned-looking warehouse twice and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, pulled into the loading dock.
“Welcome to my home.”
Suspicion warred with curiosity in her gaze, and he could identify the exact moment that curiosity won. She grabbed the handle and opened her door, looking around the loading dock with a wary expression. It was petty, but he was happy to have caught her off guard, thrown her for a loop the same way she seemed to throw him without even trying. She walked around the space, gaze darting here and there before she climbed the four steps to the top of loading dock and looked back at him as if to say, Come on, already.
Unexpectedly, he felt his cock thicken. This Julie, cautious yet brave, reminded him of all the times they’d made love, her, deceptively strong, yet so gentle, the contradiction driving him to distraction. Given the tension of their conversation duri
ng the ride over, he didn’t think she’d appreciate him tossing her over his shoulder and rushing her to his bed, though he really, really wanted to, so he waited a few moments to calm himself before getting out of the car. As he loped up the stairs, he waved a hand across the fingerprint scanner and watched as she jumped back when the rolling metal door began its ascent. Seemingly unconsciously, she reached for his hand as they waited for the door to fully open, and as always, he felt a little trill of electricity at the contact.
When the door finally opened, he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her into his living room, watching as she took in the space. Most inconveniently, her face still didn’t betray anything, and he tried to see the place through her eyes, imagine her reaction. The place was large, a couple thousand square feet, with high loft ceilings and wood floors. He had a table and two chairs, a long, low couch set opposite a large-screen TV, a bookcase, an open kitchen with high-end appliances Demon had ordered, and a platform bed set off in a corner. Otherwise, the place was sparse, almost monastic, especially when he compared it with Julie’s. This was a place to sleep, but Julie had a home.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“What do you think?” he asked, his curiosity flaring.
“It fits you,” she said on a laugh, the sound music to his ears. “No frills but elegant. Everything one could need and not a thing more.”
Drawn to her, always drawn to her, he walked until he reached her, came to a stop behind her, and put his arms around her waist, resting a hand on her belly.
“I’d take care of you.” He pressed down gently for emphasis. “Both of you.”
She pulled out of his embrace and walked over to his bookshelf, suddenly fascinated by whatever was there.
“I think you’d want to,” she said without looking at him. “Maybe you’d even intend to.” She fiddled with a couple of rocks he had set on top of the shelf.
“But it doesn’t matter,” she said brightly, looking over at him with a falsely exuberant smile. “I’m protected, and we’ll be more careful.”
Damn it, he didn’t want to be more careful, and he certainly didn’t want to know that Julie didn’t trust him. The words of argument formed on his lips, but Julie’s expression made it clear the topic was no longer up for discussion. Still, he wanted to convince her, but before he could speak, she said, “Let’s drop it, okay? I’ve had a fun night, one of the best of my life actually. I don’t want to ruin it.”
Again finding himself unable to deny her anything, he relented. But later, when he’d finally gotten her into his bed, he made love to her with a fierceness like never before, trying to convince her with his body as he’d been unable to with his words.
Chapter Ten
Sunlight streamed across the platform bed, and Julie lay there, awake but still, soaking in the sun’s rays. D’yavol held her in a tight embrace, much as he had all of the night before, but she could tell from his breathing that he too was awake, though like her, he seemed reluctant to break the spell.
Real life waited outside of this bed, and Julie was in no hurry to return to it.
A grumble from his stomach broke the fragile silence, and Julie laughed as he kissed her shoulder and stretched.
“Ignore it. It’ll go away.”
She stretched as well, ringlets of pleasure spiraling through her as he continued his playful assault on her shoulder.
“I’ll do no such thing,” she said playfully. “I’m afraid it’s time to get up, D.”
He groaned, the sound incongruous with his usually stoic demeanor.
“But just ’cause you’re such a good boy, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Deal,” he said, though he continued his exploration, now kissing and nipping at her back. “I like it when you call me D.”
“Ah-ah. Breakfast.”
With one final kiss and hug, he pulled back, and she had to tamp down a groan at his loss. She turned over and was struck by his intense stare, the only thing powerful enough to keep her focus off his amazing body, which was illuminated by the morning sun in a way that made his beauty ethereal.
“What?” she said as his stare set off a flutter of nerves in her belly.
“You, there in my bed, are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
The nerves deepened, morphed into something else, and she had to look away, both because of the scorching earnestness in his eyes and the naked feeling she was sure her face would reveal.
“No need to flatter, D. I already promised I’d make breakfast. Oh, and may I borrow your shower?” she asked, hoping that her stab at humor and practicality would protect her.
Daring a glance at him, she saw that his gaze was still intense, but after a moment, a soft smile played at the corners of his mouth and he nodded.
“Of course.”
She rose and headed to the bathroom, looking forward to the prospect of a shower. His bathroom was well appointed but not glamorous, though three of hers could fit in the separate stand-up shower alone. After turning on the water, she squeaked at the sharp blast of cold that was quickly followed by water that had warmed. The shower had a nook carved into one wall, and Julie grabbed the bar of soap that lay in it, slightly chagrined at how excited she was at the thought of lathering her skin with D’yavol’s scent, or at least a portion of what made up his scent; she knew some of the irresistible smell was just the man himself.
Though tempted to linger, she made quick work of the shower, excited to return to him and noticing that she was also getting hungry. As she stepped out of the shower, she smiled at the sight of two large, fluffy towels, an unopened toothbrush, and a neatly folded T-shirt sitting on the counter. He was always so considerate. After drying off and brushing her teeth, she eyed the T-shirt, skeptical that it would fit, but deciding what the hell? The idea of wearing an article of his clothing was beyond sexy, and if it didn’t quite fit, maybe she could distract him with her boobs. She chuckled at the thought as she pulled the shirt over her head. It was a bit snug at the hips and breasts and left no doubt that there was nothing under it, but she was pleased with the effect and did a silly little jig as she left the bathroom.
D’yavol caught her in an embrace and dipped her as he said, “I hope I’ve made you want to dance this morning.”
“I cannot tell a lie,” she said with a smile. “It was the shower, but you’re okay too.”
He laughed and lifted her, wiping the droplets of water that had fallen from his still-damp hair off her face as he said, “Next time, you get the small bathroom.”
Next time.
She hadn’t even dared consider it, but the words warmed her.
She headed into the kitchen area and opened the refrigerator, expecting the standard bachelor fare, but was surprised again—although by now she should have known to expect the unexpected with him—when she was greeted with an array of fresh fruits and vegetables, eggs, cheese, meat, pretty much anything she could need to make a decadent meal.
“You have everything we need for perfect scrambled eggs and everything else besides.” She looked over at him, eyes narrowed. “Did you buy this stuff in case I agreed to stay over?”
“An excellent idea, but I’m not so clever, I’m afraid,” he said with a smile.
“So you just keep a fully stocked fridge.”
He nodded. “I don’t like to go out much.”
“Well, lucky me,” she said as she rummaged through the ingredients, removing what she needed. “I’ve never been to this part of town before, I don’t think.”
“There’s no reason to. It’s mostly warehouses, industrial, so it’s isolated. Not a lot of neighbors.”
“Seems like it could be scary,” she said.
“Not at all. No one has a reason to be here, so there’s less chance of trouble.”
“Unlike my place?” she said, picking up his unspoken implication.
He shrugged noncommittally, though she knew he had strong feelings on the topic.
“
Why do you live there?” he finally asked.
“I can afford it, and it’s nice enough and pretty safe, I’d say. Except for that one incident, I haven’t really had any trouble,” she said as she turned on one of the gas burners, placed a sauté pan over the flame, and grabbed a bowl and whisk from cabinets.
“Safe.” D’yavol scoffed.
Julie turned away from the stove to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those boyfriends who—”
She turned back abruptly and began cracking eggs into a bowl and stirring furiously before dumping the concoction into the pan and again beginning to stir. A little scrape across the floor indicated that D’yavol had moved his chair, and a few moments later he stood behind her, his body barely touching hers, capturing her in a prison of heat, the stove in front her, his body behind, his extended arms to the side. He took the whisk out of her hand, turned off the burner, and removed the pan from the heat.
“It looks ready,” he said, mouth close to her ear, the brush of his breath making her shiver.
He kissed her ear, then her neck, right at the spot that made her squirm. It was almost enough to squelch her embarrassment. Almost but not quite.
“Am I, Julie?” he asked between kisses, his voice deep and warm.
“Er, are you what?”
“Your boyfriend?”
A nervous chuckle drifted out her of her mouth, and she leaned against his arm, silently imploring him to move, needing distance so that she could think. He acquiesced, moving back a step, and she immediately went back to the table and sat, back toward him.
“Our breakfast is getting cold,” he said, the words followed by movement in the kitchen space.
A few moments later, he set a plate in front of her, piled high with fluffy eggs, and resumed his seat across from her, placing a similarly piled plate in front of himself.
“Well,” he said, “am I?”
Trust her devil not to let it go.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Of course I enjoy spending time with you, but I’m not trying to force you into anything or make you take a label,” she said, grateful that her words were calm and reasonable-sounding.
