Page 86 of Not In The Contract
“I’m okay,” she insisted with a placating smile.
I frowned but backed off, my gut twisting in discomfort. Sensing that she probably didn’t want me in the kitchen, I wandered into the living room where the sofas and coffee table had been returned to their places. With a twinge of regret, I dropped into the sofa.
And regretted it immediately.
“Ow.” I winced, shifting on the hard sofa. “God, I need to get these replaced.”
I pulled my phone out and opened one of the catalogs my interior designer had emailed me, looking for something that wouldn’t attempt to rearrange my spine every time I sat down.
Minutes inched by and I was only aware of Devon’s footsteps as she walked into the living room. She paused at the entrance for a few moments before joining me on the sofa.
Right next to me.
Her shoulder pressed against mine and her thigh nudged into my thigh. The air in my lungs stilled, the images of sofas blurring on my phone. Every nerve was suddenly, achingly aware of Devon’s every breath. Cautiously, I lowered my phone and looked at her.
Devon’s eyes shimmered under the low lighting in the living room, turning her chestnut hair to an earthy mahogany and the pink in her cheeks to a rosy tint.
“Hi,” I said quietly, afraid that if I spoke too loudly she’d scuttle away to the other end of the sofa.
“Hi,” she whispered back.
My gaze dropped to her lips, then further down, to the pulse point hammering in her neck.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I offered, but she shook her head.
She glanced down, obviously struggling with words, so I waited. I extended my hand, palm up, and she lifted uncertain eyes to mine before taking my hand in hers.
“We need to talk about what happened,” she said, and I waited. “You asked if I was okay with it and I said yes, but then you p-pulled away.” She paused to clear her throat, her cheeks growing darker by the second.
“It’s okay, take your time,” I encouraged, and she shot me a small, grateful smile.
“And when you pulled away,” she continued, studying the back of my hand with a startling intensity, “you said it was because you didn’t want things to escalate. Did you- do you not want that to happen?”
“Do I not want to sleep with you?” I clarified, turning her face a shade of deep red. She nodded. “Devon, is that what you want?”
She lifted her eyes to meet mine, her gaze filled with shame. “I don’t know what you want,” she explained.
“I didn’t ask that,” I said gently, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “I don’t want to influence your answer. Do you want that?”
“I want that,” she whispered, her face so hot that I could feel her shame radiating off her cheeks. “But if that’s not what you want then I don’t want you to- mmph!”
I swallowed the rest of her words, saving her the embarrassment she undoubtedly felt just by admitting it to me.
She instantly relaxed in my hold, her hands finding a home in my hair while mine explored the warmth of her neck, her waist, her hips. Anywhere I could reach.
It was slow, a delicate push and pull, the heat of her lips igniting every nerve in my body. The scratch of her short nails on my scalp spurred me on, luring my hands under the massive t-shirt she wore around the house, splaying my hands over the softness of her skin.
“I want you,” I mumbled against the open gasp on her lips. “So much. It’s all I’ve thought about for days, maybe weeks.”
She shuddered in my arms and I held her tighter, licking into her mouth until I was dizzy with the taste of her.
I wanted more.
“And what I want right now,” I said, following her cue on speaking up, “is to take you upstairs and show just how badly I’ve wanted you.”
“Oh, shit,” she breathed, shaky and breathless. “Um, yes please?”
With a chuckle, I pressed one last kiss to the smile spreading on her lips and led her up to my bedroom. She held onto my hand, her fingers trembling. Or maybe mine were trembling. I didn’t care.
