“You don’t want me to help look?”

My breath catches at the thought of Devin in my room. Where my bed is. I’ve had my world rocked enough for one night.

“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” I bite my lip.

“You okay?” He inspects me, rubbing my cheek with a rough thumb. My knees go weak.

“Yeah, I’m good.” My voice is high-pitched and shaky.

Devin tilts his head and grunts. He knows I’m full of shit, but he’s going to let me get away with it tonight.

“I had fun,” he tells my lips. It’s the mother of all confessions for Devin Bennett, Mr. Serious. I should be thrilled, but I’m too focused on keeping my mouth shut to respond.

I rest my hands on his thick waist when he steps into me, closing the small space between us. He brushes his full lips against mine, a tentative touch. A soft moan slips out. That’s all the permission Devin needs to consume me. His kiss lights a path across every inch of my body. Warm, fuzzy tingles spread across my flushed skin and penetrate deep into my chest. His kiss is a claim on my body and plea to my heart.

He breaks the kiss, pulls back and watches me. His small smile restarts my heart. Without a word, he walks off into the night.

Yep. Definitely in love with Devin Bennett.

Shit.

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Devin

I hand Austin a beer and sit on my couch next to him. He asked to come over for a ‘serious talk’. Talking is as much fun as getting waterboarded to me, and Austin would rather get his balls waxed than be serious. The fucker would crack a joke at his own damn funeral. For him to ask to come over for a talk means some shit has got to be proper fucked. My guess is it’s got something to do with Elizabeth. He lost his fucking mind when they broke up late last year, but they’ve been inseparable since he moved in with her a couple of months ago. How she puts up with his shit is beyond me. He crashed at my place for a couple of weeks and his dumb ass just about drove me fucking insane.

I tip my head back. “Well?”

Austin takes a long sip of his beer. He’s sitting there, quieter than I’ve ever seen him. His knee is bouncing and he’s picking the label off the bottle. I don’t say anything, letting him take his time to spit out whatever the fuck is important enough to waste my Saturday night.