Page 92 of Devious Love
I grab Mia’s hand and guide her to the couch, where I sit and face her. The space is dimly lit, but it’s suitable for the story I’m about to tell.
“Remi was pregnant,” I say, my voice low and gruff.
Her expression softens, full of sadness and understanding, like even though I haven’t told her the story, she sees the whole picture. She threads her fingers with mine and squeezes, silently encouraging me.
“For a long time, I liked her well enough, and I felt good around her. She was there for me when I was at my worst, after the accident, after my dreams died.” I exhale sharply. “But she’s always been overly dramatic, and we argued all the time. We were on and off constantly, but even when we weren’t dating, we were together a lot. She got pregnant at the end of our junior year. After my accident. I—I didn’t know how I felt, because my life was shit. Nothing really made sense, and I had no idea what to do or where to go. Before I could come to terms with it, she miscarried. She was three months along.”
Mia’s lips wobble, and her eyes go glassy, but she remains silent, letting me speak.
“It was something about abnormal hormone levels. My daughter’s heart just stopped beating.” I hang my head low. “After that, I felt like I owed her. She’d put up with so much of my bullshit; she’d supported me through everything, and then to suffer a loss like that… It felt like I couldn’t walk away.”
She moves closer to me. “But you did.”
“Not soon enough. I should’ve handled it differently.”
“You’re not a bad person, Dom. Your guilt made you stay, and she tapped into that wound. She exploited it. I can’t imaginethe pain she suffered after losing the baby, but that didn’t give her the right to manipulate you. Hearing no and refusing to accept it no matter how many times you’ve been told is a form of harassment.”
My throat constricts as I look at the girl in front of me. I’ve never opened up about this, not even to Matt or my dad. Remi asked me not to, so I kept it all to myself, stuffing away my emotions until they tangled into a knot so tight, I didn’t think I’d ever break free. Until Mia.
Her words are soothing, but they don’t change who I am. I’m not a good person—not to Miles, who suffered because of my selfishness, and definitely not to Remi. I was a coward, unable to find the guts to end the relationship, even knowing it was hurting Remi and me more.
The situation we’re in now, the tension hurting our family…it’s my fault. If Remi wasn’t in my life anymore, that photo wouldn’t exist. Mia and I could’ve had time to prepare our family and break the news on our terms.
I am at fault, but Mia is still here, holding my hands, comforting me and lifting the weight off my shoulders. Without flinching, without backtracking. Strong and wild, confident and vulnerable… This girl is perfect. Perfect for me.
I move closer and cup her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek. “You’re so different. The way I feel about you? I’ve never felt like this before…” My voice cracks on the last word.
“I know,” she whispers, pressing her lips to mine.
And then, I’m losing myself in her again.
We kiss, slow and gentle, our tongues exploring. There’s no urgency, no jealousy, no dominance. It’s just me and her.
I stand from the couch and pull her to her feet. Our mouths fuse once more, and we stumble to my bed. When my legs hit the edge of the mattress, I fall backward onto my ass. She grins, biting her bottom lip.
Heart thundering, I unbutton her jeans and slowly push them down. She takes off her hoodie, revealing a simple, light blue T-shirt that does nothing to hide her peaked nipples.
Fuck. She’s not wearing a bra.
“Come here,” I tell her quietly.
She steps between my legs, and I place a kiss on her hip, then her stomach, just above her belly button. A soft moan escapes her as I skim my fingers over the waistband of her panties. She places her hands on my shoulders, her finger tracing the tattoos on my right arm, the ones that cover the scars from the accident.
“Why a raven?” she whispers.
“For me, it represents transformation,” I croak. “Change. It hides my scars, putting an end to my past and marking a new beginning. A rebirth.” I push down her panties, and she steps out of them. “There are also?—”
“Engines and road signs. And the number fifteen.”
I pull her onto my lap so she’s straddling me. “You’re way too attentive.”
“Only when it comes to you,” she says.
With a hand at the back of her neck, I guide her in for another kiss. Though our movements are still unhurried, a new kind of passion ignites, the kind that stays with a person forever.
She helps me roll the condom down my shaft then tosses her T-shirt to the floor. She’s a work of art. Every inch of her—her tits, her pebbled nipples, her full mouth—is perfection.
Hoisting her up, I palm her ass and lower her down onto my cock with deliberate slowness. She drops her head back, eyes fluttering shut, and moans. I don’t look away, memorizing every detail of her face.
