The Devil You Know: Devington Devils Hockey Romance

by Daphne Slade

  A sly look comes to his face and he leans in closer to me across the table. “Nice is hardly what I’m after, Grace.”

  There’s something in the way he says it. The usual taunt that I’ve come to expect from him is there; he does enjoy getting a rise out of me. But there’s something more this time. I know he’s not attracted to me, at least not beyond the fact that I have the same convenient holes that every other female has. He flirts with anyone that has a double X chromosome, especially around me. As though he enjoys twisting the knife.

  But this…

  “So, what are we toasting to?” Heidi’s reappearance, three shot glasses skillfully secured between her hands, breaks the moment. She looks back and forth between the two of us as she sets them down on the table.

  We each take a glass.

  “Noah?” I urge, giving him the floor.

  A cryptic smile touches his lips. “To second chances.”

  It’s about as apt as anything, considering this devious little plan we’ve been plotting.

  But as I tap my glass to his and Heidi’s the bullshit detector in my head springs to life. While I down the sweet, and very potent concoction, I try filtering what he’s said through every decoder in my head and come up with nothing.

  Maybe he is just doing this for the sake of Matt and me.

  Chapter Nine

  Grace

  “Just turn up here,” I say pointing left as I ride in Noah’s car back to my place. The act has me leaning ever so slightly closer to him and I turn to look at him in profile.

  Maybe it’s the wine and the Devil’s Kiss but the air in the car seems charged with something dangerous and exciting. Is this what it felt like for all those girls to ride with him up to Evan’s lake house? What else did they get up to in this car?

  The decadent warmth of alcohol slithering through my veins definitely takes my mind places. Matt’s SUV was comfortable, and we certainly used all that roominess to our advantage—once or twice. In this car, you’d have to be creative. I’ve seen Noah on the ice, so I’m sure he could contort that long body of his in a variety of ways to satisfy his most base desires.

  Especially with girls like Jenny Tanner…or Heidi.

  I turn away to face the partially open window, allowing the rushing nighttime air to cool my face. I need to remain focused, especially with classes starting tomorrow. Noah doesn’t need to be a distraction. He’s just a means to an end. So long as I keep thinking of him that way, everything will fall into place as it should.

  “I’m right there,” I say, pointing to my apartment building across the street.

  Noah expertly does a U-turn and maneuvers to parallel-park into a narrow spot. That moment when he throws one hand around my headrest and twists to look behind him to back in, my breath catches, taking some of his heavenly musky aroma with it.

  That scent is definitely not something I should buy for Matt this Christmas. It will conjure up far too many conflicting images every time I smell it.

  That’s if we even get back together as planned.

  Noah turns off the ignition.

  “Well, I guess this is—”

  “Oh no, you don’t. It’s time for us to make our first public spectacle.”

  He’s out the door before I can even eke out a protest. He wasn’t actually being serious about the goodnight kiss, was he?

  I’m still busy noting the few Devington students milling about to notice him once again coming around to my door to open it for me.

  “Don’t forget the box, you’re going to need what’s inside at some point.”

  I stare in horror down at the box holding the Agent Provocateur contents, then I grab it and exit the car. I hug it to my chest.

  Noah stays by my side all along the short walk up to the front door of my apartment, his hand resting on the small of my back. I’m not sure if the heat I feel radiating underneath it is caused by his hand or my body.

  When we get to my front door, I pause, unsure of what the next move is. I needn’t have bothered since Noah automatically takes charge.

  When his hand rises to rest on my bare shoulder, I jump.

  Why the hell am I so scared? This is just Noah, the guy who I’ve felt nothing but, at best, annoyance, and at worst, contempt for these past three years. The one who nearly had me in tears the first semester of school. The one who has made me roll my eyes more times than I can count since then.

  The one who is Matt’s best friend.

  I allow him to spin me around so I’m facing him.

  I’m expecting the usual devil-may-care smirk or a rise and fall of the eyebrows, but there’s a seriousness to his expression that is completely unexpected. It has me so flummoxed, I don’t even notice as he gently removes the box from my grip and sets it down to lean against the door.

  When his attention returns to me, I suddenly feel naked and exposed without it, ironic considering the contents of that box.

  It’s just that he’s never looked at me this way, at least not that I’ve noticed. It’s a look I recognize from the hockey games I’ve attended, when I’m close enough to see a player’s face on the ice during a game. It’s pure determination, a laser-sharp tunnel vision that takes over as they guide the puck toward the goal, beating off any opponent who dares try to deprive them of that win.

  It’s a look that has me suddenly breathless.

  “Tell me now if you don’t want to do this and I’ll walk away.”

  Go! Just leave! My head screams it, behaving far more rationally than the rest of my body.

  “No—I mean, yes! I…I do.” It takes me a split second to realize what I’ve said and my eyes go wide. “I do want this.”

  Why did that come out so adamantly? It makes me sound like I’m desperate. Desperate for what? This is all about Matt, after all. Matt and me. Salvaging our relationship. That’s it.

  Noah’s hands come up to cup my face and my brain goes blessedly silent, like every cell housed within is watching with bated breath to see where this is going.

  My heart has long since received advance notice, beating twice as rapidly as it did on the short walk up.

  Noah’s large palms rest securely against my cheeks, warming the skin that already feels like it’s on fire. The thick, callused pads of his fingers have a surprisingly delicate touch against the more sensitive parts of my neck and ears, making them tingle with anticipation.

  It shouldn’t feel this good.

  And we haven’t even kissed yet.

  That mouth that always taunted me with its raw, natural depravedness, if not some teasing little jab, or cruel remark, now threatens to do far more damage to my psyche.

  Matt.

  I force him to the front of my mind, that logical part that realizes this is all for the greater good. If I can just keep his name front and center this won’t seem so…

  Right?

  …wrong.

  Noah lowers his head.

  Matt. Matt. Matt…Matt…MattMattMattMa—

  The moment our lips connect, everything once again goes silent, silent in the way that a sonic boom obliterates all other noise in the wake of its awesomeness.

  These lips that have usually behaved in ways that told me their owner was someone to stay far away from now lure me in with the sweet, hypnotizing nectar of forbidden fruit. And he makes it taste so divine. The rhythmic push and pull of his mouth, gentle but commanding, leaves me no option but to obey.

  With my eyes closed, that woodsy musk of his once again invades my senses. The taste of coffee liqueur and rum on his tongue, which has somehow slipped past the threshold of my lips, turns it into a wild and exotic adventure. I feel like I’m in the middle of some secret, hidden, forest bacchanal where nothing is forbidden.

  Not even the devil himself.

  I can’t tell if it’s a moan of pleasure or protest that breaks me out of that hypnotic fall into this dangerous abyss.

  Either way, Noah seems to instinctively read my thoughts and gradually pulls bac
k, first his tongue, then his lips, then his hands. I feel their absence if only by the sizzling afterburn they leave in their wake.

  When I open my eyes that intense look in Noah’s is more penetrating than before. What is he trying to read in me? Does he feel the same sudden onset of guilt that I do?

  “Well…I…um…” I have no idea how to complete that thought.

  “I love leaving you at a loss for words,” he says, his face morphing back into that cocky, playboy smirk I’m used to. Something about it is both comforting in its familiarity, yet oddly disappointing. “At any rate, I should probably get your number.”

  “Why?” I ask. Stupidly. If we’re going to do this thing—and you damn well said yes to it, didn’t you, Grace?—then, of course, he needs a way to get in touch. “I mean, yes obviously.”

  It isn’t as though I had any reason at all to give it to him before now.

  Noah exhales a laugh through his nose as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket. I recite my number, feeling somehow settled by the mundanity of this one simple act.

  “Great,” he says after saving it in his contacts. His eyes rise up to mine with an amused glint in them. “So I guess I’ll call you sometime.”

  “Very funny.” Was that a tiny undertone of amusement in my voice? No sarcasm or disdain?

  I suppose I should start thinking of Noah as an ally. Period. We’re only doing this to put on a show. A means to an end. That’s all.

  I mean, he might as well atone for how he treated me freshman year. This works as well as anything.

  My body’s response to his kiss was a perfectly human reaction. I mean, of course, a kiss from him would be explosive; heaven knows he’s had plenty of practice giving them. And I’m especially susceptible to physical intimacy. I’m sure it’s an effect of being raised by parents who never showed any displays of affection, but I’ve always enjoyed the simple physical contact that goes along with being in a relationship.

  And soon I’ll be back in a relationship.

  A real one.

  Chapter Ten

  Grace

  Noah waited until I opened the door before he took off back to his car.

  He plays the role of gentleman well. It’s almost believable. Enough to make me forget about why I ever resented him in the first place.

  But that scar has been etched fairly deep.

  Still, when I close the door, I fall back against it still feeling slightly breathless.

  “Just how many different ways did you tell him to shove it, Grace?” Erin’s lips are twisted into a knowing smile when she sees me. Her eyes fall to the box once again in my hands. “Or maybe it was something he was shoving?”

  “Stop,” I protest with a reluctant laugh. “He and I, we…came to an agreement.”

  “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

  I laugh and walk over to join her on the couch where she’s been organizing her books and supplies for tomorrow’s classes. She twists to focus her attention on me, tucking her legs underneath her as I fall down next to her.

  “So, what exactly were you and Noah Donahue doing for so long?”

  I stare ahead and worry my bottom lip, wondering how she’ll react to this plan Noah and I have concocted. Correction, the plan Noah concocted, and I am going along with.

  For Matt. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

  “We’re working on getting me back together with Matt.”

  “How?”

  I pause, my lip suffering even more under the grind of my teeth. It already feels swollen and well-used from that kiss. “He’s going to pretend to date me.”

  Erin erupts with laughter, which was not the reaction I was expecting. I turn to her in surprise.

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  “You hate the guy, Grace.”

  “I don’t…hate him. I mean, sure he’s not my favorite guy in the world, but hate is a strong way of putting it.”

  “Oh, please. Every time you came back from some party or, worse, those weekends at the lake, you managed to sneak in a snide remark about something he’d said or done that annoyed you. I used to think it was a crush—I mean, I get it, dude’s hot—but you really seem to despise him.”

  That just reminds me of the reasons why and I feel my resolve come back. “Which is why I have no problem using him as a means to an end.”

  “Huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She turns her mouth down and gives an exaggerated shrug. “I dunno, you tell me.”

  “We can sit here and go back and forth all night, Erin,” I sass.

  “You know what, never mind. The bigger question is, why? As in why do you even want to get back together with Matt?”

  I blink once and then go still. “What?”

  “Why…do…you…want—”

  “I heard you, I just—well why not? We’ve been together for three years and—”

  “Yadda, yadda, yadda.” She blows air out of her mouth and waves a hand. “I’m not talking about what you had, I’m talking about what he basically threw away.”

  “It’s not that simple, Erin.”

  “Then dumb it down for me. If Clark pulled that ‘let’s take a break’ shit with me, I’d happily serve him divorce papers, and we ain’t even married.”

  “Excuse me for wanting to work on something instead of giving up,” I say, hearing how defensive I sound. “Besides, I get it.”

  “You do?” Her head snaps back in surprise.

  “Yes,” I say with a lofty shrug. “Matt and I met the first week of school. Neither of us has dated anyone else here. Even I’ve only had sex with one other guy before him. For him, there’s even more pressure. The players on the hockey team are like gods on this campus, and at least a few of them certainly take advantage of that status.” I purse my lips with disapproval, thinking about one hockey player in particular.

  Erin snorts and mutters, “See what I mean about Noah?”

  I ignore that. One battle at a time. And right now I have to make her see where I’m coming from.

  “Frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to suggest this, ” I say matter of factly. “Better he gets a few dates…or worse,” I frown at the thought, “that don’t mean anything to him out of his system now than after we’re married with kids.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she hums, unconvinced.

  “There’s also the fact that I love him,” I add. Why did it come out sounding like an afterthought? That should have been the first and only reason.

  “Which is why it took you all of two hours to agree to this thing with Noah—his best friend? And don’t think I didn’t hear y’all outside. You know how thin these doors are, Grace.”

  “That’s…like I said, it’s pretend. Just for show.”

  She just stares at me, a slow smile creeping to her face.

  “It is,” I insist.

  “Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But while you’re pretending with Noah, maybe you could also pretend to open that damn box already. Ya girl is curious.”

  My eyes fall to the box on my lap, suddenly remembering it’s there.

  Why am I still hesitant to open it? The answer, which I damn well know, is far more problematic than even the potential contents inside. I’m worried that I may be disappointed by what it reveals. Disappointed how? I’m not sure.

  Erin coughs impatiently next to me.

  “Fine!” I exhale with exasperation.

  I open the flaps to the outer box and snatch out the pretty pink box inside. I do it as casually as I would a pop-tart out of the box from the kitchen to take with me on the go.

  I tug at the black bow just a tad more delicately, being that it’s so pretty. When it falls loose, leaving nothing but the top for me to pull away, I hesitate again.

  Now, Erin sounds like she’s coughing up a lung.

  “Keep that up and I’m taking it to my room to open in private,” I say, staring down at the box.
/>   I hear her breathe out a laugh, and I smile.

  “Oh, whatever,” I sigh and grab the top to pull it off.

  The pink tissue inside is sealed with a tiny sticker that I take my time peeling away. After a deep breath, I part the tissue.

  Black lace.

  So, at least I know what color he thinks suits me. I try to read into that but I’m too distracted by the intricate designs of Chantilly lace, scalloped edging, and tiny black bows.

  “It’s not as trashy as I thought it would be,” I say, gently lifting the Demi cup bra up by the straps.

  “It’s damn classy is what it is,” Erin remarks in an impressed voice.

  I set the bra aside and pull out the underwear, which are matching bikini briefs. I would have thought he’d at least go the thong route, which I do not and have not ever worn. I honestly don’t understand how any woman can be comfortable in those things. I wonder how he guessed?

  Maybe because that’s what you were wearing when you were so conveniently presented for his personal inspection, Grace.

  I swallow and quickly set the panties down. There’s one thing left in the box. It’s a flat, pink package that holds pantyhose.

  Correction, thigh-high stockings.

  “Is that writing?” Erin asks leaning in closer to get a better look.

  I hold it up so we can both peer inside before I get the brilliant idea to just open the damn package. I pull out the stockings and they unfurl like a sheer waterfall into my lap.

  “Does that say…”

  “Yes,” I say, feeling my mouth twist as my eyes scan the back seam interspersed with various suggestions, namely ‘tease me,’ ‘eat me,’ ‘bite me,’ and ‘whip me.’

  “There’s the Noah I’ve come to expect.”

  “Oh come on, Grace,” Erin laughs, slapping me on the arm. “Don’t act like you aren’t even slightly amused.”

  The twist in my mouth contorts into a smile. “Okay, yes, it’s…mildly chuckle-worthy.”

  I quickly drop the stockings into the box and place the bra and underwear on top.

  “Well, this pretty much confirms what I’ve always suspected,” Erin says.