Dumb ass. Devon rolled on the mattress and took her with him. He was Devon ‘The Devil’ Wilder. That had been what the press had called him after Regina’s interview. Women flocked to him, and he knew why. It wasn’t just his body and swagger. He knew how to drive them mad, and how to keep fucking them over and over.
He ran a hand down his face. Then why had he acted like a hormonal teenager on his first date? And why did he come after two freaking seconds? He slanted her a look.
Elena stared at the ceiling, a smile of pure wonder spreading across her striking face. Thankfully, she had enjoyed herself—judging by her orgasm, even more than that. And she had been the reason he released himself far too quickly. She had been a mix of vulnerability and strength. The determination in her big brown eyes, and the soft moans spilling from her mouth…
His groin stirred. Good. This had to be about sex. Period. Because caring for Elena could not happen. Not when he was still not 100 percent sure about her. She’d told the truth about her abusive marriage—he’d seen the evidence of it in her eyes, and in her demeanor. But did that give her a free pass from spying on him for his half-brother?
A ping from a cell phone pulled him from his thoughts.
“Sorry.” She shifted on the bed, checked the phone, then turned it face down on the nightstand. “My family is driving me crazy. My brother’s engagement party is in three days.”
“That’s right.” He glanced at her. And he’d made the freaking mistake of offering to go to it with Elena as her date. She could have just asked her spy buddy—his half-brother Matthew—to go with her. After all, Matthew was getting divorced. Just because she hadn’t slept with anyone for a long time, what evidence did he have she didn’t want Matthew? Maybe she was using Devon to get back into the groove so she wouldn’t be afraid of having sex with Matthew.
That would be the ultimate betrayal. Even worse than what Regina had done.
Regina had used their relationship to explore a side of her she had always wanted to. As a result, she had enjoyed it—far too much, and ended up landing a controversial interview and opening a swingers’ club.
“Yeah. I haven’t been home in a while. I guess it will be okay.”
“I was serious earlier when I said I’d come with you,” he said, the words flowing faster from his mouth than the thoughts in his brain.
She sat up on the bed, and took the sheet with her. Crossing the arms over her chest, she shook her head as if she hadn’t heard him right. “Really?”
He cleared his throat. “I will be your date.” “Wow. I didn’t think—”
“A weekend in New York City. There’s nothing more to it,” he said, since establishing relationship rules were as vital to him as flying was to a bird.
She twirled a strand of her hair with her finger, eyes seemingly miles away. “That’s nice. Well, I don’t know. I have to think about it. My brothers can be a pain, and I don’t know if you deserve to go through their stupid selection process.”
Her brothers? He chuckled. The woman obviously didn’t know him, if she thought any other male would intimidate him. He had been raised in the Southside of Chicago, with a whore for a mother. He had learned at the age of two to pour his own cereal for breakfast. “I’m no scared of anyone. Your brothers can’t intimidate me. And they shouldn’t intimidate you.”
She gave him a small smile. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for offering, though.”
I will go with her. The resolution solidified. What was she hiding from him? What if Matthew would fly into New York to meet her there? He popped his knuckles. Damn it. The woman was already a liability. Worrying about what kind of relationship she had with his half-brother was a painful distraction from the cyber theft.
“Let’s eat.” She cocked her head to the side, and jumped from the bed. Far too fast for his taste, she put on her clothes, then quickly exited the
room. Eating at her place after sex sounded a tad too domestic for his taste. Sure, maybe ordering in, or grabbing a bite to eat out, or something. But she had cooked that pan of lasagna…
Sighing, he got out of bed and slapped on his jeans, not worrying about his underwear or putting on a shirt. If he wanted to go with her to New York and get to the bottom of things, he would have to endure some intimacy.
Although…the second his gaze landed on her, his heart tightened so much, it was like there was a Steinway piano crushing his chest. She placed a basket of garlic bread in the middle of the table. Everything about her apartment was far too feminine, and the pale pink linens added to the all-woman ambiance. He noticed the old-fashioned yet quality crystal goblets half-filled with icy water, and the curvy silverware around the neat dishes completed the perfect, white-picket fence picture.
She smiled as if she had a secret, ad he wondered if he was part of it. Which was damaging enough.
Wondering had only brought him pain. Wondering if his mother would ever change. Wondering his father AKA the Sperm Donor would ever step up to the plate. Wondering—
A glow flickered in her eyes. “There you are. Sit.”
Frowning, he pulled the chair and plopped down. The gentleman in him should have waited until she was done and pulled her chair out for her. But she kept dashing in and out of the kitchen, each time returning with something new. The lasagna. Olive oil. Extra Parmesan cheese.
He tapped his fingers on the table. Regina always preferred ordering meals from a known Denver chef. They were delivered to their home, and the amount of calories was displayed on the lid of each small package in cursive writing. Oh, how he hated that damn font.
Elena grabbed his plate and ladled a generous amount of lasagna on it, steam swirling around the pasta as she returned it to him. “Eat. Or like my mom says, mangia.”
Keep your mind on the game, man. “So, does your family pay for all this?” he asked, circling his index finger.
She broke a small piece of bread. “No. I worked in marketing for five years. Three of them in New York.”
“Which agency?”
Elena squared her shoulders, and glanced at him. “Lind & Luz.”
Her former employer had been a super successful marketing agency that was known for a lot of sports advertisement. “You never told me you had that much experience in the field.”
She winked at him. “You never asked, and you weren’t the one who interviewed me when I applied for the position at your company.”
He wondered what other things he would ask and get a direct answer to? She beamed at him, an adorable grin stretched her lips, and the spark reached her eyes. It was like her irises were two huge caramel pools, with flecks of gold glittering inside them.
“You must be really underused as an assistant.” To detract from her magnetizing pull, he cut into his lasagna and brought a bite to his lips. The fresh spices exploded on his palate. He wasn’t a foodie or anything, but even the pasta tasted different. Better.
She watched him swallow in silence, her lips parted. When he helped himself to some more, she shook her head, blinking out of a reverie maybe, and finally said, “I like working for you. I know how good you are.”
He reached for the glass of water. “That doesn’t mean much. It’s a downgrade, and I get that you won’t be an assistant for much longer. You said you did it for Matthew, to have his back because he helped you.”
She nodded.
“How?” he asked, again, the question burning the tip of this tongue. Playing with the fork, she inhaled. “Three years ago, I still lived in New
York City. Matthew and his wife were my neighbors,” she said, and he remembered how Matthew and Sandra lived in New York City for a few years while he helped establish the East Coast offices. “One day, something happened. Tim and I had sex. Well, I don’t know if you’d call it sex. I didn’t protest, because I figured that would be quicker that way. After he left for work, I was in a lot of pain. Turns out I had internal bleeding.”
Her voice wavered for a second, but she continued. The playfulness from earlier vanished, and the sparks in her eyes shifted into gloom. “That’s when I realized my life couldn’t go on as it had. I knocked on Matthew’s door asking for Sandra, but she was away on a business trip. Anyway. Matthew took me to the hospital and literally held my hand throughout the whole ordeal. He helped me get a restraining order against my ex, and set me up at a different apartment while we took care of some bureaucratic things and filed for divorce.”
Internal bleeding. He clenched his hands on the fork so hard, he could swear it was bending under his anger. What kind of sick son of a bitch submitted his woman to something so sordid? If he ever met this guy, he would kill him. Frustration floated up his throat, and he tasted bile. “I’m sorry, Elena. How much longer did you stay in New York?”
“Not long. I quit my job and came here to get as far as possible from my old life. I did therapy, and worked at a smaller marketing company. A year later, Matthew and Sandra moved back, as he returned to Colorado to help Wilder & Co. expand.”
“Why Denver? Did Matthew have anything to do with your decision?” “I guess I visited the city before and liked it… and yes, he and Sandra
talked about it so much I kind of felt like giving it a try. But, for the first year, I didn’t know anyone here.”
“That must have been tough.”
“It was a good period of self-discovery. I needed to be on my own.”
He loosened the grip on the fork at last. “I’m glad you see things this way. Why did Matthew do all this for you?” The question escaped his lips before he caught up with common sense. Sensitivity wasn’t his forte, but neither was naiveté. Why would Matthew be so attentive and helpful to a complete stranger, when he was married? If Matthew were into doing the right thing, he wouldn’t have hired someone to snitch on his half-brother. He wouldn’t have ensured Devon was bullied when they went to the same high school.
“Because he’s not just this super ambitious dick you envision.”
He took another bite of his food. Blood pumped thick in his veins. He’d like to believe that, sure. Well, perhaps he did. Matthew wasn’t a dick to everyone. “Agree to disagree.”
She grabbed the glass of water, but held it under her lips as if thinking of what to say. “Why don’t we talk about TV shows?”
“I don’t watch any.”
She took a swig of water. “Then let’s talk about your club. I’ve never been there.”
“We’ll remedy that.”
“Ha. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not much of a clubber.”
He laughed, and imagined her, all prim and proper, in his upscale venue. Thankfully, they changed the subject, and when they were done with the food, she started to remove dishes from the table and he found himself loading the dishwasher while she cleaned the lasagna pan by hand.
Helping her should have been business as usual. This felt like what normal, loving couples did all the time. Not that he had any experience in that area.
Pushing that thought away, he motioned to put a dish inside the stainless dishwasher, but she moved at the same time and their arms brushed against each other. She glanced down at them first, then as she straightened up, so did he. His pulse spiked, and that familiar, annoying stir whirled through him again. The I-want-Elena-way-too-much warning.
Clearing his throat, he realized his lips were dry, even though he had just finished drinking water and wine. Damn it. But he had to have her—couldn’t get enough of her. Devon scooped Elena up and put her on the granite counter top, and she wrapped her legs around him.
Devon kissed the sweep of her neck, and felt her stiffening against him, her hands traveling up in his body. “You are fucking amazing,” he said, and breathed in her crazy sexy scent.
“Apparently so,” she whispered, nudging his cock. “I wanna make you feel good, babe.” So good. “I’d say mission accomplished.”
Choking back a laugh, he caressed her cheeks. The spontaneous tenderness surprised even him. “Hardly.”
“No pun intended.”
He nipped her chin. “Shut up, Elena.” “Make me.”
No one could ever accuse him of turning away from challenges. With that in mind, he covered her lips with his, and cupped her face, the desire to make love to her burning through his veins like a raging fire. She stroked his tongue with hers, and her hands linked behind his neck, brought him closer. A couple of moans formed in her throat, and he swallowed them. The atmosphere shifted around them, and quickly the homemade meal vibe shifted into a much less wholesome energy.
He deepened the kiss, barely able to breathe himself. She squeezed his shoulders, then her fingers slid down his bare back. A thread of shivers followed the path her nails trailed.
Lowering his hands, he groaned, and then pulled up the hem of her dress. The second he touched her inner thigh damp with her juices, his groin stirred. He fought the urge to flip her and swat her ass. Screw her hard, while she screamed his name. Damn it. She wasn’t like the women he typically dated—there was a sweet vulnerability about the way she kissed him, moaned, fondled him. He had to go slow, even if it killed him.
“When I’m with you, I feel like I’m melting. Isn’t that weird?” she said between kisses, in such a carefree way, that his heart squeezed and an unfamiliar ache lodged in his throat. Shit. He had to focus on fucking her, nothing more.
“That’s weird.” He inserted his finger into her, and she gasped. Her slick walls clenched around him, and he could feel the pulse from her center of nerves. Flicking it with his thumb, he decided to do some exploring.
She bucked against him, rocking onto his hand. Damn, that sensual shit turned him on like crazy. He circled his fingers into her, working his thumb harder. Faster. His cock swelled in anticipation, and she mewled. The soft sound was like the missing ingredient for a secret recipe.
He drove his fingers in and out of her. His movements more intense. Soon, she quivered around his hand, her moans filling the air and setting his heart in a wild race. He kissed her—a long, passionate kiss that spelled trouble. Damn it, she was trouble. For how long would he fool himself? She wasn’t just a mystery he didn’t crack. Elena was—
She panted. “I want you inside me.”
“I am,” he said, and moved his fingers inside her pussy. She chuckled. A hearty, happy sound. “Your…”
“My cock?”
She licked her lips, and a lovely shade of pink spread across her cheekbones. “Your cock,” she said as if she was saying it for the first time, and peered at him. A glint in her eyes hinted at the schoolgirl who had just gotten in trouble with the principal. Dirty talking wasn’t her thing. He needed to fix that.
But now…he’d address a much more urgent matter.