by J. Kenner
“What do you like?”
“All of it.” My voice is raspy against the tightness of his grip. “You,” I clarify. “I like what you’re doing. I want this. I want—”
“What?”
“To surrender,” I admit.
“You’ve always been in control,” he says. “But not with me. With me, you surrender.” He turns me back around as he speaks, then lifts me up. I hook my legs behind his back, then cling to his shoulders as he enters me. Each thrust pounds my back against the wall, and I curl my body against him, feeling the pressure build between us as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside me, claiming me. Owning me.
“Never again,” he says as we’re both on the brink of the explosion. “No more keeping me in the dark. What hurts you, hurts me. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say, then, as the orgasm crashes over me, “Oh, God, yes.”
I burst apart, taking him with me, and soon he’s stumbling back to the bed, me still clinging to him until we break apart as we hit the mattress, both of us breathing hard. After a moment, he bends over me for a soft, sweet kiss. “Don’t keep me in the dark again.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry. You’re right.” The words stick in my throat because they’re true. I should have called. He deserves to know. Because even though he hasn’t said it out loud, he loves me.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat as I move on top of him with my cheek resting against his chest. “I didn’t expect you to find out, though I should have,” I add wryly. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. But that was wrong of me.” I pull back to look at his face. “How did you hear?”
His expression suggests I’ve forgotten how to think. “There were dozens of people around, all of whom had camera phones and social media accounts. Only one person had to recognize you as my girlfriend, and—”
“Shit.” I let out a harsh breath. “Okay. I am an idiot. But so are Lamar and Brandy.”
He makes a growling noise.
“No, don’t even. They both told me I should text you. But none of us thought about Twitter.” I make a face, then look up at him again. “I really am sorry.”
“I know.” He closes his eyes and draws a breath before looking at me. When he’s done, I still see the lingering fear. “Dammit, El, don’t do that again.”
“Almost get run down? Trust me. Really not on my list.”
“Do you have any idea who did it?”
“All I know is that it was a black Range Rover.” I tilt my head. “Isn’t that what Ronan drives?”
I know that it is. I’d watched him drive away last night, comforted only by the fact of his parting words and the fact that in Southern California you can’t throw a rock without hitting a Range Rover. That and Devlin’s unwavering trust in him.
Even so…
I meet Devlin’s eyes. “He does, doesn’t he?”
“He does. But he didn’t—”
“I know you believe that,” I cut in. “And I want to trust him—I really do. But he seemed pretty irritated that I was poking around in the Myers story. And I—” I pause to gather my thoughts. “The thing is, I trust my instincts. They’re solid, and they’re one of my tools as a reporter. Go with the facts, but don’t ignore instinct, right? And there’s something about Ronan that—”
“Trust me,” Devlin interrupts. “Listen to your instincts, but at the end of the day, trust me.”
“I do.” My voice sounds small, and his bisected brow rises in response. “I do,” I repeat. “About almost everything. And as far as Ronan goes, I really am trying.”
He almost smiles. “I asked him to come see you because I was irritated about your Myers investigation. At the time, I hadn’t heard that you’d almost been killed or I would have dropped everything and come myself.”
I shrug. “Well, that made a great cover story for him, then.”
He rubs his temples, clearly frustrated with me. And maybe I should drop it, but I don’t understand why he can’t see what I see.
“Ronan is not crosswise with this,” he tells me. “I trust him with my life. And I trust him with yours, too. That should mean something to you.”
“It does,” I assure him. But what I don’t say is that I still fear that his trust has been misplaced.
When he sighs, I know he understands what I haven’t said. I tense, expecting that we’re going to continue this debate. Instead, he says, “Tell me about the footage. Have you found out anything yet?”
I shake my head and explain about Corbin and the software. “It’s probably a dead end.” I grimace as I meet his eyes. “And you think that’s just as well.”
“Yeah. I do.”
I sigh, then sit up, the sheet wrapped around me. “We’re not on the same page today, are we?”
He takes my hand. “We can disagree and still be together.”
I swallow, my smile feeling a little watery as I fight tears. “You’re right.” I draw a breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Convince me. Why are you so sure Ronan’s a good guy?”
The mattress dips as he moves to sit up, his back against the headboard. “Other than the fact that we served together? That I’ve watched him work for years? That we’ve looked out for each other for a decade, and that he’s kept my secrets without complaint?”
I sag a little. “Okay, I get it. I still think—”
“What?”
“I don’t think he likes me.”
Devlin laughs. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I say, surprised by how much I mean it. “He’s probably the closest person in the world to you—”
“No.” He’s looking right at me. “He’s not.”
My smile comes unbidden. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. And you’ll have to trust me that he likes you fine. But he worries about me. He knows I’ve never gotten serious about anyone since I was Alex. And he knows how much it will break me if...”
He trails off, and I take his hand. “There won’t be an if.”
“No,” he says, his gaze burning into mine. “There won’t.”
For a moment, I lose myself in his eyes. It would be so easy to drop this. To slip away in forgetfulness in his arms. Maybe I should, but instead I say, “So what does Ronan do when he’s not being an ambassador for the DSF?”
Devlin exhales with a sigh and a small shake of his head. “I adore you.”
Laughter bubbles out of me. “That’s good. Because I adore you, too.” I tilt my head. “Well?”
He shifts a bit, getting more comfortable. “You know all those movies where the mysterious, quiet guy who worked in security is trying to live a normal life, then gets called in to save the day?”
“Sure. Those are my favorite kind. You’re saying that’s Ronan?”
“Pretty much.”
“Independent security consultant,” I say. “That’s what he called it once.”
“That sums it up pretty well. He protects politicians and celebrities. Investigates security breaches. Skills we learned in the service.”
“You worked in intelligence, didn’t you?”
He nods. “We both did.”
“So he stayed in the same industry more or less, but you left. Why?”
“My path was different than Ronan’s, but we’re both doing good. I don’t know why he gets under your skin, but you need to believe me.”
“I do,” I say, and it’s not a lie because I really do believe that he believes it. As for me … well, the jury’s still out.
I am, however, done with this conversation. So I press my hand to his shoulder as I crawl onto his lap. I meet his eyes, then lower my voice. “Do you know what I want to do now?”
I see humor and heat flicker in his green eyes. “I’m guessing it’s not sleep.”
“Nope.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
I slide my hands slowly up his bare chest as I bend forward to brush a soft kiss over his lips before teasing my way to his ear. I nip on his lobe, then whisper.
“You’ve got me in the mood … to watch an action movie.”
His low chuckle reverberates through me as he squeezes my ass. “You’re a tease.”
I lean back enough to see his face. “Maybe,” I admit. “But after the movie, I want a little more action of our own.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I’m awakened by a light tap on the door. Groggy, I clutch the sheet with one hand and prop myself up on my other elbow as I look over Devlin’s shoulder. “Come in,” I mumble.
The door bursts open, and Brandy pokes her head inside, her eyes immediately going wide. “Oh!”
That’s when I realize that she’s got an eyeful of Devlin, the sheet low on his hips so that all of his torso—and a bit more—is bare. He’s still asleep, his face turned towards the door.
Sorry. I’m sorry. Brandy mouths the words.
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it,” I whisper.
“I didn’t realize he was here,” she whispers.
“Give me two seconds, and I’ll come out there.”
Brandy nods and starts to back away, but is stopped by Devlin’s voice. “Good morning, Brandy.”
I bite my lip, stifling a laugh as her face goes entirely red. “Um, so, I was wondering if you wanted breakfast. Ellie, I mean. But that’s only because I didn’t know there were two of you here. Want me to make breakfast for you both?”
He pulls the sheet higher as he sits up, obviously fighting a grin and looking so deliciously sexy that Brandy is very lucky I don’t jump him right then. “No, thanks,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’ll be heading out soon.”
“Back to Vegas?” I ask as he takes his phone from the side table and starts to tap out a message. I can hardly keep the disappointment from my voice, but I know he’s got work to do.
He’s silent for a moment as he taps a bit more, then sets the phone back on the bedside table. “Actually, no.” He smiles at me. “In fact, I was planning to invite you out for breakfast.” He turns to Brandy. “Would you like to join us? Assuming Ellie says yes.”
“Are you kidding?” I say. “I’m totally saying yes. But don’t you have to go back?”
“It turns out I did an excellent job picking my team. I’m utterly redundant.”
I tilt my head and make a point of lasciviously looking him up and down. “Not to me.”
He squeezes my thigh. “So, breakfast?” He looks back at Brandy. “What do you say? Join us?”
“I think three is a crowd,” she says.
“I promise there will be no shenanigans.”
“Oh, well, that’s disappointing,” Brandy quips.
Devlin laughs. “Sorry. That’s not how I roll.”
I bite the corner of his ear. “No? Because I’ve done a little poking around on the internet, and there’s some interesting stuff about you and—”
He moves faster than I can deflect and pulls me onto him, somehow managing to keep the sheet in place so that Brandy doesn’t get an X-rated view of either of us.
“Brandy,” he says. “Please join us. I need backup.”
She laughs. “I was about to tell Ellie that I had just enough time to fry some eggs before I head out. Although if you really don’t mind, I’d love some business advice. I could move my first appointment...?”
She trails off, her expression hopeful.
Devlin looks to me.
I shrug. “I don’t mind. If you two want to talk about business at breakfast while I sit there bored out of my mind, that’s completely up to you.”
They look at each other, exchanging an amused glance. “Sounds like a plan,” Devlin says.
“Twenty minutes?” Brandy asks. “That should give me enough time to do some rearranging. Does that give you two enough time to get dressed?”
“Perfect. I thought we might take a walk on the beach after breakfast,” Devlin adds to me. “Which means neither one of us needs to spend too much time dressing for the day. Sound good?”
I nod happily, and as soon as Brandy leaves, I decide to forfeit the first three minutes of our allotted time by straddling Devlin. That plan goes to hell, though, when he takes me by the shoulders, then makes me squeal as he flips me onto my back, his thighs on either side of my hips, and his cock as awake as both of us.
“We don’t have time for that,” I say. “But I really wish we did.”
“Just a preview of coming attractions,” he says, shifting as he bends forward to kiss me so that his erection teases between my thighs, making me crave a hell of a lot more than we have time for this morning.
“Maybe we can be late,” I murmur, trying to spread my legs.
“That would be rude,” he says, moving his hips so that his cock teases me even more, and little shivers race through me, both frustrating and enticing.
“That would be rude?” I counter, making his eyes crinkle with amusement.
He bends closer, his tongue teasing the curve of my ear. “Later,” he whispers.
“Hell, yes, later. Later is when you’re going to pay, mister.”
He brushes a light kiss over my lips, then slides off both me and the bed. “We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.”
“Payback,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “Soon.”
“I look forward to it.” He’s trying hard not to laugh, and not doing a very good job. “I’ll enjoy the anticipation.”
I narrow my eyes, then turn toward the dresser, ostensibly to get my clothes, but mostly so he can’t see my own effort at holding back laughter.
Since I’m dressing only in shorts, a tank top, and a lightweight hoodie, it takes me no time at all to get ready. Devlin takes a bit longer, since he came over in work clothes. But he keeps a gym bag in his car, and as he runs out to get it, I pull my hair back in a sloppy ponytail and put on sunscreen. And that is the sum total of my grooming for the day.
Soon we’re all three walking down the hill together, with Jake galumphing in front of us on his leash. It turns out that Brandy’s second appointment had to cancel so she’s got a full ninety minutes before she has to be anywhere. We grab a table at the Omelet Tree, one of the restaurants on the ocean side of PCH with a huge deck, a pet-friendly policy, and an incredible view. As Devlin and I take long swallows of coffee, Brandy sips Chamomile tea and Jake crunches on a dog bone, courtesy of the restaurant.
Despite the name, the restaurant is famous for its pancakes. Brandy and I get banana, but Devlin goes for gingerbread. As we all dig in, he and Brandy talk about ways to not only increase her sales, but also her visibility and her public presence.
“I really want to do something like you do,” she says. “Support something I believe in. Give back, you know? But I’m still all about making a profit. I started BB Bags on a shoestring, and it amazes me that it’s doing well. But it is.”
“That’s because you worked hard, and it’s paying off. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make a profit,” Devlin says. “You’re running a business. And the better you run it, the more money you make, and the more you can not only expand and prosper, but the more you can support causes you believe in.”
I listen as they discuss the possibilities, outlining what Brandy wants to accomplish and what charities she wants to both support and promote. They also float the possibility of Brandy launching a nonprofit arm herself. Devlin tosses out a few more concepts, but mostly he promises to think about it and get back to her with some concrete ideas that they can discuss.
“I really appreciate this,” Brandy tells him. “Especially knowing how busy you are. It really means a lot to me.”
“I’m happy to do it.” He checks his watch. “If you want to meet up after you’re done with work, we can dig deeper.”
“Can we wait a day or two?” She glances at me. “I don’t want to interrupt your plans. And, to be honest, I think I need a day to process.”
“Just say when,” Devlin says. “I promise I’ll make the time.”
“Thanks. Right now my hea
d is so full it’s going to be hard to focus on today’s meetings. Plus, it’s a gorgeous day and I’m jealous that you guys are going to the beach while I’m going to Los Angeles.”
“No, you’re not,” I tell her. “You love what you do. And I’m incredibly proud of you. You’re building something truly fabulous.”
The check comes and Brandy puts down her share, or tries to. Devlin waves her away saying that she can repay it by baking some muffins for him to freeze at his house.
He gives her a kiss on the cheek goodbye, and after she and I hug, Brandy heads back up the hill to get samples and her car. Meanwhile, Devlin and I keep Jake, who’s settled into a nap beneath the table, his paws moving as if he’s dreaming about chasing rabbits.
Although truly chasing bunnies is out of the question, a game of catch seems like a good plan. So while Jake and I watch the surf, Devlin crosses the street to the corner convenience store. Because it’s near the beach, it also sells all the paraphernalia a tourist could want. I can attest to that, having popped in not that long ago to buy a pair of flip flops after I’d taken off running in bare feet, thrust into motion by the shock of learning that Devlin Saint was the boy I used to love.
Soon, Devlin emerges with a Frisbee, and the moment he pulls it out of the bag, Jake goes nuts. He tugs on the leash, practically yanking me off my feet as he bounds over the grassy area toward the sandy beach. I gesture for Devlin to take control of the crazy dog, but he’s laughing too hard to be of any use to me at all.
We finally reach the surf and the sandy area where well-mannered dogs are allowed to be unleashed during the off-season. Jake has apparently forgotten the Frisbee, because he spends a solid five minutes chasing the foamy surf as I catch my breath. I lean against Devlin, my back to his chest and his arms tight against my ribs.
“Lot of help you were,” I tease.
“You two were bonding,” he counters. “How could I interrupt?”
I tilt my head back, just because I want to see him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He bends close and kisses me. A quick kiss that soon turns heated, until I’m spinning in his arms, my own rising to go around his neck. The beach is mostly empty this morning, and I lose myself in the scent of him and the sweet ocean air.
