One last grind and Devin breaks away from me and steps back across the room. He runs his hands through his thick black hair and glares at me. I bite my lip and press my legs together, missing the hardness of him against me. He is so dark. Eyes. Hair. Soul. He looks angry, but I know better. He is tortured and beautiful and I’ve never seen anything sexier.

Screw it. I slide off the desk, determined to get my afternoon delight. But before I can step closer, he’s out of the door.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Jessie

Devin knocks on my door right on time for our second date. I get a flock of angry birds swirling around in my stomach when I see him standing on my porch. My mind slides back to the night we met. To that first kiss that ruined any other lips for me. I slide a hand up his chest and place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Hi,” I greet him.

He nods, cups my face and kisses me. It’s not his usual soul-stealing variety. There isn’t the usual desperation, like he’s containing a wild beast inside him that will tear me apart. This is sweet. Familiar and intimate. It’s how a groom kisses his bride after the ‘I do’. It’s chaste, but greedy. He kisses usually say ‘mine’. This one says ‘my darling’.

When he pulls away, there’s a small smile on his beautiful lips. My heart skitters to a stop in my chest. Devin takes my hand in his and leads me to his car. The drive is quiet. I’m focused on sorting out my jumbled emotions and Devin, well, he’s always quiet.

“Tell me about Shawna.”

He takes me in with those dark eyes, his lips pursed and his eyebrows pinched together, making him look like an angry caveman.

“BB said she was your high school sweetheart.”

He looks back out at the road and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ Becs.”

“So? Was she?”

He nods.

“What happened?”

“She left.” His voice is hard. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“Why didn’t you go with her?”

“Couldn’t.”

This is excruciating, but I’m going to drag the truth out of him, one one-word-answer at a time.

“Why not?” I scooch closer to him on the bench seat.

“Becs,” he answers. That’s not the whole answer, but I get it. Family is family.

“But you wanted to go?”

He doesn’t answer. He slows as we pull into a parking lot and I know I don’t have much time left before he makes an escape.

“Would you have left, with Shawna, if you could?”

He turns off the engine, gets out and slams the door. I let out a disappointed sigh and follow behind him. He waits at the front of the car for me and takes my hand again when I stand next to him.