Page 20 of Destined for the Devil
With that, he retreated into his room and left me in the kitchen, confused and lightheaded.
What. The. Fuck. Was. That?
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Theupscalesushirestaurantwas all muted tones and hushed voices, our black marble table reflecting the soft lighting. Across that marble table was Isla, looking at nothing. Actually, she looked around at anything but me, diligently trying to ignore me.
Whatever happened between us in my kitchen was literally tearing up my soul. I didn't mean for any of that to go down, but I also couldn't fucking stop myself.
At first, I did go over to help, but when I saw her on her knees and hands, it was like a door to hell opened in my mind, and I said all the things I did. Did I question her about her sex life? Just out there in the open like that?
I was losing my goddamn fucking mind, and I had zero clue how she felt about me. Certainly not the way I felt about her. And how did I feel about her? Well, what's it called when you think of someone every minute of every day and night? When they bring you genuine joy and happiness, and spending time with them seems to be the only thing that matters? When you can't concentrate on anything or anyone else because your mind is constantly thinking of them? Obsession? Sure. That's what I was.
Obsessed.
But when I found out about her little job interview, I was rudely awakened from the fantasy I lived in. It had only been ten or so days, butcoming home to her was literally the best thing that had happened to me in my whole life.
Seeing her in my home felt like some sort of healing ointment on all the scars on my heart. Eating meals together, chatting, spending time just us two—we even went for a walk a few times. Holy fucking shit. That simple stuff put me on top of the world. I didn't want anything else in life. I just wantedthat,withher, forever.
I knew that if she landed a job, her next step would be to get an apartment again. She was only with me because she had no choice—and I had forgotten that. She would move out, start her life here, get a boyfriend, go back to med school, and I would be nothing to her. Only a hazy memory of her painful start here.
But what was I going to do about it? Sabotage her life so she could remain trapped in my apartment? Yeah, as much as I did awful and shady shit, that wasn’t who I was. Maybe that's why I went down such an extreme path and confronted her in such a way. I wantedsomethingto happen. What? I didn’t know exactly.
I knew all the answers to the questions I asked. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in a very long time, and her life had been a complete disaster the past few years with the death of her entire family. And I was well aware that she deferred med school. Probably until she had the money and emotional stability to go back.
Most likely, her parents' probate was taking forever, and she couldn't even have access to anything they had left her. Med school was expensive; she must have been waiting for the funds.
"Isla?" I finally got her attention, and her uncertain gaze found mine. When she changed, she came out in a yellow summer dress, kind of making her look like a fucking Disney princess. The thin straps settled on her perfect round shoulders, her tan glowed, and the bright color complemented her dark flowing hair and light gray eyes. I hated to admitthat I liked the princess look. Fuck. I was so distracted by everything she did and who she was.
"In a few weeks, there is an event I must attend. It's a dinner organized by the city council. I want you to come with me." Isla’s gaze traveled over my tattooed hands while I enjoyed her presence in front of me.
"Why would you want me to go to that?" she asked, not looking away from my fingers.
"Because I need a date, and since you're living with me, I thought it would be easier if I took you and not someone else. Or, do you want me to pick a random chick and then bring her back home and fuck her on my couch while you're there?" Yeah, I needed to tone it the fuck down, but I literally could not. Somehow, that sentence didn't faze her.
"You can do whatever you want. It's your house. I'm just a temporary guest. As soon as I get a job and a place to live, I’ll move out." She propped up her chin with her palm and looked out the window, having no idea that her words broke my heart.
Ugh. She had zero feelings for me. She was just waiting it out. I momentarily considered it: coming back home with a random woman and fucking her on my couch just to rile up Isla.
"Great. I want to take you."
"I'm not fucking you on your couch after, though,” she added with a smile and took a small sip of her drink. Her lips touched the side of the glass ever so slightly, the alcohol barely making any contact. She was so delicate.
"I don't want to fuck you anyway," I responded with vitriol but almost laughed at myself. I didn't want to fuck her; that part was true, but I wanted to make love to her. I'd never done anything but fuck.
"That's right. Because I'm not yourtype." And at that, I saw a smidgeon of anger appear in her eyes. I sat there stunned at the realization. She was pissed off that I had said that. Why?! Only reasoncould be that she wasn't indifferent to me.
"That's right. And I'm not yours. Big tattooed guy with a ton of money and a big dick,notyour type." Amusement flashed on her face, but there was no way I wasn't going to push it further. "Who is your type, Isla? A sweet, young boy who comes from a good family that has a golden retriever and plays golf on the weekends? Last name Smith or Baker or...Grant?"
And at that last word, her expression visually changed to alarm. That was her ex-boyfriend's last name. I knew. Obviously.
Lost for words, her bottom lip fell open, but no sound came out of her mouth. God, how I longed to kiss her lips. To taste her. Just gently, just a touch, just to feel the heat of her body, to find out how delicious she was.
"And yours? A tall girl with fake boobs and lips who pretends in bed and is only there to please you? Mm-hmm, you look like someone who only takes."
