Shadow of a Doubt (Tangled Ivy Book 2)

by Tiffany Snow

  I’d tried on clothes and he approved or nixed each outfit, including several bikinis. I’d argued that I only needed one bathing suit, but his lips had lifted in a half-smile and he maintained he couldn’t decide which he liked better, so I’d ended up buying five. I’d had to make a hurried appointment at the hotel spa for a wax just so I could wear them.

  Today I wore a barely-there black crochet bikini that had Devon staring at me as I arranged myself on the chaise inside the cabana he’d reserved for us. Several days in the sun had bronzed my skin and lightened my hair.

  Glancing at him, I winked and blew him a kiss as I slid my sunglasses on. His small smile widened.

  Devon had told the hotel we were on our honeymoon, so the entire time we’d been there, they’d added romantic touches to everything we did. From rose petals on the bed at turndown service, to complimentary champagne at dinner. Today was no exception as a uniformed waiter stepped into our cabana, offering us chocolate-covered strawberries.

  “You’re spoiling me,” I teased Devon. “Ruining me for regular vacations.”

  “And regular men, I hope,” he said.

  “You want to ruin me for other men?” I asked.

  “Haven’t I already?”

  Yes, pretty much, but I didn’t want to think about that.

  A steady stream of mai tais and Devon taking his time rubbing sunscreen on my back and shoulders as he whispered teasing innuendos in my ear was my idea of a perfect day. The slow burn of sexual tension between us was a feeling I never wanted to end. Delayed gratification made it even sweeter when we finally went back to our room.

  Devon was peeling off my suit before the door had even finished closing, his mouth coming down hard on mine. Our skin smelled of sun and coconut, and I knew I’d never smell that scent again and not think of Devon and this week.

  We were walking hand in hand along the water’s edge after dinner. The moon was full and bright, making the sand shine in the night. Devon carried my shoes, the dainty ankle straps dangling from his fingers.

  “It’s so peaceful here,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Well, we’re not leaving yet,” Devon said, which was true. In fact, he hadn’t determined a day for us to leave and had left our reservation at the hotel open-ended.

  “I know, but we can’t hide here forever.”

  “Is that what it feels like we’re doing?” he asked.

  I paused, turning to face him. “Doesn’t it to you?”

  His lips twisted in a faint smile. “A bit. I prefer to think of it as a holiday. I rarely get those.”

  “Would you take them even if you could?” I asked. We’d carefully avoided discussion of his work since we’d arrived. Instead, we’d talked of everything and nothing, our conversations easy and light. These had been some of the best days we’d ever spent together.

  He shrugged, his smile turning self-deprecating. “Probably not.”

  I thought for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Always.”

  “Do you ever think about the future? Of what you want or where you’ll be in ten years? Twenty?”

  Devon was silent, studying me. “No.”

  I frowned. “Why not?”

  “It’s pointless,” he said. “No one knows the future. Our car could crash on the way to the airport and both of us die. I live in the moment, in the now, which has enough trouble. The future will take care of itself.”

  I hoped he was right.

  That night I woke to Devon talking in his sleep. I heard my name and reached to rest a hand on his shoulder.

  “Devon,” I called. He didn’t wake and I had to say it two more times before he sat straight up, his chest heaving and his hands clenched like he’d been fighting.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. He glanced at me, his eyes feverishly bright in the moonlight streaming through the window. “You were having a nightmare, I think.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Throwing back the sheet, he stood and walked to the balcony. We’d left the doors open so we could hear the ocean and feel the breeze. The moon bathed his naked body with silvery light.

  I tossed aside the blanket that had covered me and went to stand behind him. I slid my arms around his waist and leaned against him, resting my cheek against his back.

  “Will you tell me about your nightmare?” I asked.

  I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but finally, he spoke.

  “It was the night I found Kira,” he said. “It was late, later than I’d told her I’d be back and I was afraid she’d be worried. Not that she didn’t always worry, but I’d given her my word. I was . . . anxious to see her, needed to see she was okay. Marrying her had been against my better judgment, but I was young and stupid. Dangerously so.

  “I’d reached our door and saw it wasn’t locked. I’d told her time and again to make sure she locked the doors. She was artistic, a bit flighty, always looking for the sunshine and silver lining. It made me irritated because I couldn’t count on her to watch out for herself. She’d never taken the danger we were in seriously. Then I felt guilty for being irritated with her. She was who she was.”

  He fell silent and I waited, picturing a younger Devon and the young, faceless woman who’d loved him.

  “They’d . . . brutalized her,” he choked out, his voice thick. “She was so delicate, fragile, and her blood was everywhere. I sat with her . . . I don’t even know how long . . . before Vega found me. She was kind, comforting, yet unflinching in her assessment of how badly I’d handled the situation. Kira would still be alive if not for me. The moment I’d married her, I’d signed her death warrant.”

  Tears slid down my cheeks to wet his back. My arms tightened around him.

  He was solid and strong, and it seemed impossible that anyone could control him, yet I knew his past still did, and so did Vega.

  “Tonight, I dreamt of that night, but it was you lying in the bed. Not Kira.”

  My eyes slid shut at the agony in his voice, and I didn’t know what to say. Several long moments passed before he spoke again.

  “We should go,” he said roughly. “Tomorrow, I think.”

  My heart sank, but I didn’t argue. I knew his fears were justified—I had only to look at the scars on my stomach for proof.

  His hands covered mine, slotting our fingers together. Lifting my left hand, he pressed his lips to my knuckles. I felt the warm brush of his breath against my skin. He turned and my arms lifted to rest on his shoulders. If it was my last night with Devon, then I wanted nothing between us. No lies or insecurities, pretenses or agendas.

  His hands rested on my waist, drifting lightly to my hips, then farther down to cup my rear. “When did you become more than a beautiful woman to warm my bed?” he mused.

  I didn’t answer, instead transferring my focus to pressing my lips to his chest. My tongue tasted his skin, warm and solid. He didn’t object and he didn’t try to stop me.

  “It kills me to think of you with another man,” he said.

  I paused, glancing up at him.

  “Am I to pine away in celibate spinsterhood for you?” I asked mildly. “No one says you have to do this job until it kills you.”

  “Vega would disagree,” he said dryly.

  I stiffened at her name. “She seems to think she owns you,” I said.

  “In a way, she does.”

  The truth of it was a bitter taste in my mouth, but it wasn’t a bond I could break for him. Devon had to want to be free of the Shadow—free of Vega—on his own.

  “I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” I said, slipping my hand between us. He was hard and ready for me. “I want you to make love to me.” I dropped to my knees.

  I didn’t want to think about the women that had come before me, or those who Devon would have after me. I just wanted to make sure he never forgot Ivy Mason.

  His cock was jutting from his body, thick and long. I wrapped my hand around the base,
leaning forward to lick the tip. Raising my eyes, I saw he was watching me. His gaze was molten, and our eyes locked.

  Opening wide, I slid him into my mouth, memorizing his unique flavor. If someone had told me a year ago I’d willingly be in this position to perform this act on a man, I’d have thought they were insane. Only with Devon had I found the freedom to be sexual and find pleasure in it. Only with Devon had I found that love wasn’t something that hurt me and stole my self-respect.

  His body was beautiful. The scars that marked his skin only added to that dangerous edge that drew me in. His hands tangled in my long hair as I took him deeper in my mouth, his brow creasing in the pleasure and pain of holding back.

  I wanted to be his. Marked by him. Owned by him. It would never change. No matter if this was our last night together. I’d be Devon’s for always.

  I moved my hands to cup his ass, an amazing part of his anatomy that I’d neglected, and squeezed, encouraging him to slide deeper. He groaned, his palms cupping the sides of my head.

  I was mesmerized by his face as I moved, taking his shaft deep, then letting the length of him slide out until only the tip touched my lips. He refused to close his eyes. His blue gaze burned into mine as I performed this intimate act on him. For him. But he wouldn’t let me continue for long before his hands were under my arms, pulling me to my feet.

  He lifted me to wrap my legs around his waist, pushing inside me in a long, slow thrust. I clung to him as he kissed me, reveling in the feeling of being one with him, for the last time.

  Devon kissed me, one arm wrapped around my back, the other sliding up the back of my neck. His fingers tangled in my hair as he kissed me with something more tonight, something tinged with a desperation that I felt, too.

  He walked forward until we hit the bed, then braced his knees on the mattress and lowered me down, kissing me all the while. His hands moved down, the curve of my hips fitting in his palms. He made love to me slowly, languorously, as though he had all the time in the world to push me to the brink. Our skin became slick with a sheen of sweat, pleas and gasps falling from my lips. I urged him to move faster, harder, but he wouldn’t give in, and I shattered around him. His mouth covered mine when I cried out his name, and only when I was coming down from my high did he speed up. His body covered mine completely, his cock growing harder and thicker inside me. The wet sounds of our bodies as they came together made an intimate chorus to the words he whispered in my ear. Words I’d never thought I’d hear him say.

  “I love you,” he said. “Never forget.”

  A promise and a goodbye, and as his body shuddered in my arms, tears dripped from my eyes to slide down my cheek and into my hair.

  Afterward, he held me close and I staved off sleep as long as I could, listening to the steady sound of his heart and the deep evenness of his breath. Our legs were tangled together and his fingers made gentle patterns on the small of my back. But I couldn’t stay awake forever, and as the hours passed, eventually my eyes grew too heavy, and sleep claimed me.

  Devon was already awake and dressed the next morning when I woke, and with his outer armor came his inner armor. I could tell immediately that he was putting distance between us, but it didn’t make me angry. I understood. Self-preservation. An instinct he and I shared.

  I showered in the tiny bathroom and dressed—a cap-sleeved wrap dress in a deep turquoise, the skirt hitting right above my knee. The fabric was soft and the neckline would have looked tacky on a woman with larger breasts, but on me it looked perfect. I could tell it was another designer creation made for the runway, and while I had no idea how he’d gotten hold of it, I knew it was a silent gift from him to me. Devon liked to dress me, perhaps only slightly less than undressing me, and he could afford to do so.

  I French-braided my hair from one side of my head around to the other so the long tail draped over my shoulder. Wisps of hair escaped from the braid to dangle by my ear and neck. I took great care to look as good as I possibly could. If this was to be Devon’s last glimpse of me, I wanted it to be a good memory.

  “These are for you,” he said when I came out of the bathroom, handing me a shoebox. He had a twinkle in his eye as I lifted the lid to see a pair of Jimmy Choo wedges. Again, I didn’t know how he’d come by them, I was just glad he had.

  I smiled, determined to keep our last few hours together light and not mar the time by crying. Of course, the shoes fit perfectly.

  “How do I look?” I asked, doing a slow pirouette.

  Devon didn’t have to say anything; the slow burn in his eyes as he looked me down and back up told me exactly how I looked.

  “Stunning,” he said, and his voice was rougher than usual.

  I felt the sting of tears and quickly looked away. “You’re looking pretty dapper yourself,” I said. And boy, did he ever.

  No man I’d ever known could wear a suit like Devon. Custom-tailored, it fit perfectly, stretching across his wide shoulders and tapering to his lean hips. You couldn’t tell he had a holster and weapon underneath his arm, and the deep gray he wore today made his eyes seem an even paler shade of blue than usual.

  He’d once told me that he wore a suit to “blend in.” I didn’t understand then and I still didn’t know how he could ever blend into a crowd. My eye was immediately drawn to him, the magnetism and charisma he exuded was something that couldn’t be learned, but had been born in him. And beyond all of that was the edge of danger and menace emanating from him. The old phrase “not to be trifled with” came to mind, and it fit him perfectly.

  “I have one more thing for you,” he said, reaching inside his jacket and handing me a rectangular, blue Tiffany box.

  I carefully lifted the lid, gasping in amazement when I saw what it contained.

  A necklace, but unlike any I’d ever seen. The pendant was a yellow, pear-shaped diamond, so brilliant it looked as though the sun shone through it. Surrounding the diamond were small, round white diamonds.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said as Devon lifted the jewelry from the box.

  “Turn around,” he said, and I complied.

  He fastened the necklace for me, then gently turned me so he could see it.

  “It doesn’t do justice to your beauty,” he said. “But it reminded me of you. Sunlight shining through something incredibly strong. That’s what you are to me.”

  I was speechless, tears filling my eyes. Leaning down, Devon pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to my lips. When he lifted his head, our gazes locked together. For a moment, I could see in his eyes the pain echoing inside me, then there was a knock at the door and the moment was lost.

  “Come in,” Devon called, and the valet bustled inside to take our luggage.

  The flight back stopped in L.A., where I would catch a flight to St. Louis and Devon would fly on to London.

  It was chilly on the plane and there wasn’t much to see out the window, not that I would have noticed. Devon and I had eyes only for each other. We didn’t say much. We didn’t need words. We both knew our time together was measured in hours now, rather than days. He held my hand and alternately kissed me and just touched me, his hand cradling my jaw.

  Finally, the announcement that landing was imminent came over the sound system. We held hands as the plane landed, then joined the line of people waiting to deplane. Devon stood close behind me, his presence solid at my back. His hands slid softly up my arms to my shoulders, then back down to my elbows, a last touch of skin against skin. It made me want to cry, but I bit my lip until it hurt enough to chase the tears away.

  My eyes were busy drinking in each movement Devon made. His arm was draped across my shoulders, holding me close to his side as we walked through the airport. He didn’t look at me. His training was such that his eyes were always moving, always assessing possible threats, in a way that was as much a part of him as the way he walked.

  When we came to the center of the terminals, he reached into his suit jacket and handed over two tickets for St. Louis. “This will get
you home,” he said.

  “Wait,” I asked, confused as I glanced at them. “Why two?”

  “I thought you could use some company for the flight,” he replied, nodding over my shoulder.

  I turned around and my jaw fell open in shock.

  Logan was standing a few yards away, watching us. He looked hesitant, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. My vision blurred as tears came to my eyes and in the next moment we were walking toward each other, then I was caught up in his arms as he lifted me off the ground.

  “Hey, Ives,” he said softly in my ear.

  “Logan,” I choked out. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He squeezed me tight, then lowered me to my feet. “I was a complete and total dick,” he said bluntly. “And I’m sorry.”

  I smiled through my tears. “Me, too.”

  “All is well between BFFs?” Devon said from behind me. I turned around, sadness striking once again.

  “Yes. Thank you, Devon.”

  Logan gave him a curt nod. “Yeah. Thanks.” And I was gratified, because he did sound grateful. The animosity that had marked his interaction with Devon previously was now gone.

  “You just needed some time to figure out what an arse you were being,” Devon chided him, his lips twitching in a half-smile.

  Logan grimaced, then caught my eye. I raised an eyebrow and he gave me a sheepish smile. “True.”

  “My flight is departing shortly,” Devon said to Logan. “If you wouldn’t mind giving us a few moments?”

  “Um, yeah, sure,” Logan said, walking away a few paces and leaving Devon and me alone. An island of two in a sea of humanity.

  We said nothing at first, our eyes locked together. It was only through sheer force of will that I kept the tears at bay. I didn’t want our parting to be marked by sorrow any more than it already was.

  His arms lifted and I went into them automatically.