Moonlight Scandals

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Dev?” Lucian said his name quietly, and without looking at him, he knew his brother was watching him closely.

  “I don’t know,” Dev said finally, and that was the damn truth. “I really don’t.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay if I leave with Theo?” Sarah asked, having taken off the mask.

  “Of course.” Rosie had a lot of questions, namely how she ended up talking to Theo, the guy who’d been talking to Rosie before she bolted out of the grand room, but that was going to have to wait since Theo was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

  She and Sarah now stood out on the wide porch, under one of the slowly whirling ceiling fans. The Masquerade was coming to an end, and half of the attendees were already gone or tipsy from the endless supply of champagne and whiskey.

  Sarah’s gaze searched hers. “And why are you leaving? You met someone.”

  “Not really,” she replied, and that wasn’t exactly a lie considering she’d met Devlin before.

  Her friend tilted her head. “You know, I know you met someone. Like my psychic spidey—”

  “Stop,” Rosie laughed. “Get going and don’t behave yourself tonight.”

  “Wasn’t planning to,” Sarah replied slyly, grinning as she glanced over her shoulder to where Theo waited. “You have a ride?”

  Rosie nodded as an older couple all but stumbled down the steps. She planned on Ubering home. “Have fun.”

  Sarah smiled as she moved toward the top of the steps. She stopped and turned back to Rosie. “Remember what they say about dancing with the devil, Rosie.”

  Her mouth dropped open as she stared at her friend. The devil. Rosie could only think of Devlin.

  “But what they don’t say is sometimes you need to get burned.” Sarah winked. “Have a good night, Rosie.”

  She honest to God had no response as she watched Sarah literally skip down the steps. There really hadn’t been time or the opportunity to tell Sarah about what had gone down in the room upstairs with Devlin. Or that she was out here waiting for him, because she was.

  Keeping secrets from psychic friends was hard sometimes.

  She drew in a deep breath and stepped back into the shadows. Leaning against the railing, she didn’t let herself think too much about what she was doing, because even as bold and often ballsy as she was, she might chicken out. Unlike what Sarah was about to engage in, she wasn’t waiting to continue what she and Devlin had started upstairs.

  Although, she wouldn’t be against that.

  But the reason why she was out here waiting was to finally tell Devlin what had happened when she did her reading with Sarah. Her stomach tumbled a bit at the thought, twisted up in nervous energy. Since Devlin had admitted that his house was haunted, she figured he wouldn’t think she was entirely insane for bringing up a psychic reading, but she wasn’t sure how he’d respond. All she knew was she couldn’t wait any longer.

  And she didn’t have to.

  Three of them stepped out of the house at the same time. In the front was a tall, curvy brunette who was wearing a gown similar to hers. Her hair was curled and pinned up. She still wore her mask as she stared up at the man whose arm was curled around her waist. A man she now recognized. It was Lucian. He’d pushed his mask up, causing strands of blond hair to stick up in every which direction. He was saying something to the woman, causing her to laugh. Behind them was Devlin, mask still impeccably in place.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she started to step out of the shadows, but before she could make a move, Devlin turned and looked directly at her.

  Her heart skipped just like Sarah had when she went down the steps. How in the world did he know she was standing there? A hot, tight shiver curled low in her stomach, tangling with the nervous coils.

  “Excuse me,” he said to his brother, stepping away from them, toward her.

  Lucian turned, and she had the distinct feeling he could see her clearly. “Questions, Dev. I have many, many questions.”

  “Come on.” The woman beside Lucian threaded her arm through his. “You promised me late-night beignets and mocha.”

  “I did.” Lucian still eyed where Rosie stood. “And what did you promise me in return?”

  “Lucian!” The woman laughed as she smacked his arm hard. “Let’s go.”

  Chuckling, Lucian finally looked away as he let the woman drag him down the steps. Thankful that it was dark where she stood, she felt her face warm as Devlin slowly stalked toward her.

  “I’m sorry,” she began as he got close enough to hear her. “I know it’s late and I swear I have a pretty valid reason for waiting for you. Well, it’s a weird reason, and I’m not sure if you’d find it valid or not, but I can assure you, I’m not out here waiting for you like a stage-five clinger. I’m—”

  “Come with me.” Devlin took her hand and then didn’t give her much of a choice.

  He led her away from the railing, around the side of the porch that wrapped the house. She had no idea where he was taking her when he walked her down a short set of stairs and into the dark, empty courtyard in the back, an area that had been emptied out over an hour ago.

  She glanced around at their surroundings. There were warm, yellow solar lights spaced throughout, casting light onto trees, but that was all she could see. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be back here.”

  “I’m the de Vincent,” he replied, stopping as he turned to her. “I can be back here.”

  Rosie opened her mouth to point out just how arrogant that sounded. Also to point out that it was so dark back here there was no way anyone could tell if he was the de Vincent or not.

  But she never got the chance.

  Curling an arm around her waist, Devlin lifted her up. A startled gasp escaped her as he pulled her into him and pushed her against what felt like a tree all at the same time.

  The sudden, unexpected feeling of being trapped between the hard length of his chest and the rough, unyielding bark of a tree overwhelmed her senses. She clutched his shoulders, dragging in short, shallow breaths.

  Before she even had a chance to process that, his mouth came down on hers in a brutal, raw kiss that took those scattered senses and blew them up. Her lips parted, and Devlin deepened that kiss, slipping his tongue over hers, stealing her breath and nearly all her common sense.

  Goodness, the man could kiss.

  Because he kissed like he was ravenous for her, only her, and like before, she reveled in the knowledge she’d never been kissed like that before. He kissed roughly, like he innately knew that she could take it and in taking it, she would want more.

  And damn, if she didn’t want more.

  She wanted to wrap her legs around his hips so she could feel that thickness pushing against her belly in a much more interesting place, but the dress had trapped her legs against his.

  Devlin broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers as his arm tightened around her waist. “I don’t care why you were outside waiting for me.”

  A full-body shudder hit her, and she bit back a moan as he placed a kiss along her jaw and then lower. Her head was a mess and her pulse was pounding like a jackhammer in her veins. Red-hot desire was pumping through in a way that nearly clouded everything.

  “I’m just fucking grateful that you are here,” he said against her neck, where her pulse beat wildly. “You know how crazy that is?”

  In a weird way, she did. Her grip tightened on his shirt as he lifted his head. Moonlight cut over the black mask and the high curve of his cheekbone. “I have something even crazier to tell you.”

  “Can you tell me later?” His lips brushed hers, eliciting a fine tremor from her. “Agree that you can tell me later, at my place.”

  Rosie wanted to laugh, because again, this was the Devlin she liked. When she’d waited for him outside, she had no idea how he’d respond. If he’d regret whatever they did in that bedroom or if he’d pretend as if he didn’t know her. She’d thought she’d prepared herself for anything, but she was wrong
.

  She hadn’t prepared herself for this.

  Sarah was right, though. She was dancing with the devil and she wanted to get burned. Badly.

  “Rosalynn.” He murmured her name in a way that actually made her like the sound of it.

  Rosie closed her eyes. “Okay,” she whispered. “But I need to tell you something first, all right?”

  Devlin made this sound that was sexy as hell and then he nipped at her bottom lip. “Do you have to tell me I’m a dickhead? Because we’ve already established that.”

  She couldn’t stop the grin. “No.”

  “Do you want to tell me that the beaded curtains in your house are made of wood?” he asked, flicking his tongue along the seam of her mouth. “Because, Rosie dear, particleboard is not real wood.”

  That brought a laugh from her, one that came from deep within and seemed to have a strange effect on Devlin, because he made that sound again and then dropped his forehead to the space between her neck and shoulder. He was still for a moment and then lifted his head. “What are you?”

  That was the second time he’d asked that question and the second time she had no idea what he’d meant by that. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either.” There was a quick pause and then he lifted her even higher and this time, when he rolled his hips into her, his erection found the place she ached most. “What do you have to tell me?”

  Her hands spasmed on his shoulders as the ache between her thighs pulsed. “It’s really going to sound out-there, so you have to promise to hear me out.”

  “Everything about you is out-there.” He shifted his hips again. “And I mean that as a compliment.”

  She really thought he did. “My friend is a psychic—”

  Devlin chuckled deeply. “Why am I not surprised?”

  She bit back a giggle that was lost in a gasp as he caught her ear between his teeth. “It’s really hard to focus and keep talking when you’re doing . . . all that stuff.”

  He rolled his hips again. “I’m positive you can multitask.” His lips brushed her temple. “What about your psychic friend?”

  She had to take a moment to collect her thoughts. “Remember the Friday we met in the cemetery? Before you insulted my beaded curtains?”

  “I remember.” He slid his hand up over the curve of her waist, to her breast.

  Her head fell back against the tree. “I had a reading done with her that night. She told me something that is really going to sound—”

  “Unbelievable?” His mouth was making its way down her jaw again as his thumb moved back and forth over her breast. “It’s going to sound out-there?”

  “It is.” She opened her eyes and stared above, to the faint twinkling stars blanketing the sky. A huge part of her didn’t want to keep talking. The fingers at her breast were driving her to distraction and if she lowered her chin, his mouth would be at hers again. “During the reading, something . . . bizarre happened. Someone I didn’t know came through. I think . . .” Anxiety sliced through her stomach, dampening the lust fueling her every heartbeat. “I think it was your father.”

  Devlin didn’t just still. She could feel the muscles under her palms tense. Felt his entire body go rock hard. He slowly lifted his head. “Come again?”

  Rosie lowered her chin and wished the mask was gone and she could see his expression. “I think your father came through and spoke to me.”

  A long moment passed and then Devlin asked, “And what did he say?”

  The flatness in his tone reminded her of the day in her apartment. She wet her lips. “He kept saying that it . . . it wasn’t supposed to be him, and he was angry, very angry.”

  “Is that so?”

  She swallowed. “He said he was murdered, Devlin.”

  His reaction was swift.

  Devlin let go, and without the warning, her feet hit the ground and she went toppling to the side. He caught her before she fell over, holding on to her shoulders long enough to straighten her and then he let go.

  He let go of her, but he didn’t step back. “What did you say?”

  “I think it was your father who came through,” she repeated, and then briefly told him about the peonies. “He said he was murdered, Devlin. And if I were you, I’d want to know.”

  “So, you’re telling me that a psychic told you this? Who is the psychic?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” No way was she throwing Sarah’s name out there. Not until she knew how Devlin was going to proceed with this information. “I just thought you should know.”

  “Or did you think I should know that you think my father was murdered?” he challenged.

  “What?” Rosie frowned. “I don’t even understand what that means.”

  “You don’t?” he bit out, his grip firm on her shoulders. “You seriously expect me to believe that a psychic told you this and not, oh I don’t know, your friend Ross Haid?”

  “What?” Yanking free from his grasp, she took a step back. “This has nothing to do with Ross. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks and why would he think that?”

  “That’s a good question, Rosie.” Arctic air seemed to blast through the garden. “Maybe you can fill me in.”

  “Oh my God, Devlin, I have no idea why he would think that, but maybe he knows something. Maybe you should listen to him!”

  Devlin stepped toward her, and she saw the hard glint of his pale eyes in the moonlight. “Unbelievable,” he growled, and not in that holy guacamole kind of way, but in the he was pissed kind of way. “Un-fucking-believable.”

  Rosie couldn’t be all that surprised by his response. Although, him bringing up Ross was unexpected. “I know that sounds—”

  “Like something a lunatic would say?”

  Air hissed between her teeth as she drew in a sharp breath. “Excuse me?”

  Devlin let out a dry, hoarse laugh that lacked all humor. “You must think I’m an idiot if I’m going to fall for this psychic bullshit.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Where else do you think I would’ve heard this?”

  “Really?” His tone dripped derision. “Was that what tonight was about? You knew I’d follow you. You pretend to be whatever the fuck you’re pretending to be, to get me to talk about my father?”

  “Pretending? How in the world was I pretending?” Rosie held up her hands. “You need to check yourself, bud. You followed me upstairs earlier. I did not want you to do that.”

  “Sure.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Did I seem remotely happy about you being up there?”

  “You seemed really happy when I had my fingers between your thighs,” he shot back. “And surprise, surprise, it sure as hell didn’t take a lot of convincing to get to that point either.”

  That was it.

  That right there.

  “You’re such an asshole.” Her hands balled into fists. “God. You’re such an asshole and you know it. There’s no way you don’t know it.”

  “Might be an asshole, but at least I’m not a scheming liar.”

  “Are you calling me a scheming liar because I thought you’d want to know that there was a chance your father didn’t kill himself?” The back of her throat stung with the words blistering inside her mouth. “Seriously. You’re a dickhead.”

  “Positive that’s already established.”

  She threw a glare at him he couldn’t even see but made her feel better. “Forget I said a thing to you about this.”

  “Already did.”

  Her skin about caught fire as anger poured into her like a raging storm. This was not the Devlin she liked. “This is the real you, isn’t it? Not the Devlin who was upstairs or the one who was just teasing me. This is who you are.”

  Devlin said nothing to that, and the wealth of disappointment that settled on her was like a coarse, thick blanket. She stepped back and started to turn away.

  “Guess coming back to my place is out of the question now,” he said, and the way he said it, she could feel the smirk she
couldn’t see.

  Whipping around, Rosie stormed up to him and made sure that when she lifted her hand and extended her middle finger, he saw it. “Screw. You.”

  He sighed heavily. “Sounds about right.”

  She added another middle finger just for the satisfaction of it.

  “Classy, Rosie.”

  “You may have more money than sin, but you wouldn’t know class if it smacked you in the face,” she retorted.

  “Yeah,” he drew the word out. “Let me make one thing clear. You do not want to go around telling people Lawrence was murdered. You don’t want to make that mistake.”

  She threw her hands up. “Who would I tell besides you? And obviously that was a mistake.”

  “I’m being serious, Rosie.”

  “Me, too.” She started backing away, not only furious, but also so damn disappointed. “You have no idea. Tonight was . . .”

  “Was what? An act? A ploy to get me to start spilling family secrets so you can run them right back to Ross?”

  Huffing, she shook her head. Tonight hadn’t been an act or a ploy. Tonight had been beautiful. “You’re so wrong about everything you have no clue. Goodbye, Dev. Do not be in touch. Like ever.”

  Chapter 16

  “Gabe told me that he loved me,” Nikki announced on the phone Saturday morning, and Rosie let out a squeal, dropping the jeans that she was folding. Nikki laughed, sounding a million times better than the last time Rosie chatted with her. “I can tell you’re happy.”

  “I am!” Rosie was on her knees in front of her narrow closet, having woken up early with the random need to organize raging through her. “Okay, so remember what I was trying to tell you when I visited, but Gabe walked in?”

  “Yeah?”

  Shifting the phone to her shoulder, she picked up the jeans she dropped and began folding them. “I was trying to tell you that Gabe was officially off the Boyfriends Who Needed to Get Their Shit Together list.”

  “I think he’s definitely off that list,” Nikki agreed. “But why did you think that? Pretty sure you wanted to smack him.”