“I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward.”
She gestured dismissively. “You didn’t. It’s just me being silly. Come on, I’ve got the spare bedroom made up for you.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Spare bedroom?”
She gave me a playful dig in the side. “Ha! Gotcha.”
I caught her around the waist and drew her to me. “What would you have done if I’d called your bluff?”
She curled her lips in a wry grin. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” I said, laughing. “You’d have snuck in during the night and taken advantage of me.”
“In your dreams,” she scoffed.
“Baby, you already showed your hand earlier by telling me you had naughty things planned. Difficult to be naughty with a solid wall between us.”
I hid my shock at the unexpected endearment by capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Baby? I’d never called a woman ‘baby’ in my entire life. I was a rough, gruff Aussie—albeit most of the rough edges had been smoothed out by the company I kept and the global experience brought about by my job. These days I was more of a mishmash of different cultures.
But still, baby?
I drew back, waiting for Reilley to mention it, to question the use of a term that indicated our relationship meant more than either of us had come close to discussing.
Instead, she swiped theatrically at her forehead and said, “Phew. Is it hot in here?”
Relieved my slip of the tongue had escaped close scrutiny, I grinned. “By the time I’ve finished with you, a sauna will seem cool by comparison.”
She gave my erection a brief stroke through my jeans. “Promises promises.”
“Indeed,” I said. “And I never break my promises.”
I estimated that the ride up to her apartment took no more than twenty seconds, although I couldn’t be sure because we kissed the entire way. When she opened the door, and I found myself greeted by a wall of windows overlooking Lake Michigan, I knew she’d undersold it earlier.
“Wow.” My bag slipped off my shoulders, thudding to the floor. I crossed over the cherry wood flooring to get a closer look. The afternoon sun glinted off the still, blue expanse of water, and to my left and right, high-rise buildings crowded the shoreline. “That’s some view.”
“It certainly is,” she said.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Reilley’s gaze firmly on my backside rather than the view. I laughed, cocking my chin for her to join me. She did, sliding her hand in the back pocket of my jeans. “Are you hungry?”
I shifted my feet and, flicking her hair over her shoulder to expose the smooth skin of her neck, I bent my head and kissed her. “Starved.”
Reilley set down a tray filled with cheese, crackers, a bowl of fruit, and a bottle of white wine in a silver bucket on top of the bed. “I thought we could have snacks now, then dinner later. I’ve booked us in at a nice place not too far from here that does better steaks than Australia.”
“Impossible.” I removed a grape from the vine and pressed it to her lips. “Open.”
“Yum. Juicy,” she said, chewing.
I loaded a cracker with cheese and bit into it while Reilley poured us both a glass of chilled wine. “Okay, I can’t wait any longer. What’s my surprise?”
“Oh yes!” She jumped off the bed. “Wait there.”
She disappeared into the living room, returning with a thick wad of spiralbound papers. She dropped it on the bed next to me. I glanced down.
STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL
The Piranha Club
Devon Gray – A Biography
The Man. The Myth. The Mystical Genius.
Written by Reilley Bennett
FIRST DRAFT
NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION OR PUBLICATION
I widened my eyes. “You’ve finished it? Already?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say finished. It’s a first draft, but Simon’s read it, and he’s pleased. He’s even looking at bringing the publication date forward, hence he agreed I could share it with you. I need you to read it as soon as possible, but whatever you do, don’t let this baby out of your sight.”
I flicked through the pages, astounded by the sheer number. It was one thing to know and agree to a book being written about you, but quite another to see and hold the manuscript.
“I hope you think I’ve done your stories justice.”
I glanced up to find Reilley nibbling her bottom lip.
“You’re nervous?” I asked, surprised.
“No, not nervous. Shit-scared.”
I squinted and moved closer. “Who is this imposter? I thought I was lying in bed with Reilley ‘I’m fucking amazing’ Bennett.”
She laughed and playfully punched my upper arm. “Devon! Don’t be mean. I’m genuinely worried you won’t like it.”
I opened it at the first page and scanned down, then turned to the second and the third. My eyes met hers. “I love where you’ve started it, and I have no doubt I’ll adore the rest.”
She gave me a sad smile. “I’d never heard of Antonio Santos before you told me that tragic story, but it felt like the right place to begin.”
I set the manuscript to one side. “If I start now, I won’t stop. But I promise you that before I return to Europe, I’ll have read it cover to cover and shared my thoughts.”
She popped a grape into her mouth. “Let’s hope we’re still speaking afterward.”
Her apprehensiveness, even if it was topped off with a slight grin, set off my own inner concerns. What if she’d found out about Charlotte and included a chapter that laid bare the worst day of my life? No, surely not. If she’d found out about Charlotte, I was damn sure she’d have mentioned it.
Wouldn’t she?
Reilley
The sun dipped between the buildings, casting shadows on the sidewalks as we strolled to the restaurant later that evening. I tugged my cashmere wrap closer around my shoulders and leaned into Devon.
“Chilly?”
“A little. It’s not far now, though.”
He snuggled me into his side, his thumb rhythmically brushing over my hip. Contentment washed over me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so centered, so at peace. The man next to me played a large part in that.
“Here we are,” I said, walking up the stairs to Geordie’s, one of the best steakhouses in Chicago, in my opinion. “The owner is from Newcastle in northern England, hence the name.” Even though Devon wasn’t English, I knew he’d get it without question. Living in London, he’d know that people from Newcastle were called Geordies.
Devon looked up at the sign. “Do you know why people from Newcastle-upon-Tyne are called Geordies?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“The actual reason has never been agreed on, but some people theorize it was because the citizens of Newcastle-upon-Tyne supported King George the first and King George the second during the Jacobite uprising in the eighteenth century, and the name was meant to distinguish them from those who supported the Stuarts.”
I widened my eyes. “Devon Gray. You’re full of surprises.”
He winked. “Not really. One of our mechanics is from Newcastle. He told me that over a beer one night. Big history buff, apparently.”
“I love that story,” I said. “I wonder if Paul, the owner, knows that piece of trivia? He’s never mentioned it in all the years I’ve been coming here.”
“It’s not exactly the kind of thing that comes up in everyday conversation.”
“True.”
I placed my arm through his and walked inside, giving my name to the greeter. We were seated immediately at a table for two right by the window. Paul spotted me from behind the bar—his favorite place to be—and waved, hitting me with a big smile. I waved back.
“That’s Paul,” I said by way of explanation to Devon who glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll pop over and say hello if he gets the time.”
I gestured over the server and ordered a glass of wine and a j
ug of iced water. Devon chose a bottle of beer. We quickly scanned the menu, both picking the filet steak with a side order of shrimp.
“You just wait,” I said after we’d been left alone with our drinks. “This steak is melt-in-your-mouth fabulous. Best you’ll ever eat.”
He leaned back, theatrically cracking his knuckles. “I’ve eaten some amazing steaks over the years.”
“Not like this one.”
By the time we’d finished our food, I’d gotten Devon to admit that a steak from Geordie’s was definitely up there with the best in the world. Before we left, I managed to catch Paul and introduce him to Devon. Paul, like a lot of guys from England, was a huge Formula One fan. The two of them spent the next ten minutes talking animatedly about aerodynamics, lateral g-forces, and the upcoming changes to the rules of qualifying.
We left Geordie’s with Devon promising we’d definitely return before he flew back to Europe, and wandered down to the lakefront to one of my favorite bars Eric, my ex, had introduced me to. I’d avoided it for a while during the whole stalking episode, but after the police had frightened him off, I’d returned. I didn’t see why I should let that bastard stop me from going somewhere I really enjoyed. They made the most delicious summer fruit cocktails here, light and refreshing, and the view was beautiful. Plus, it had a young, hip vibe, and occasionally, they had live music playing.
Like tonight, I realized as we approached the entrance. People had spilled out onto the streets, boogying along to the easily audible music outside the bar. We crammed inside, elbowing our way through the crowds. After fifteen minutes of frantically waving at the bartenders, we attracted their attention and ordered drinks.
The noise from the band and the cheering crowds made it impossible to have a conversation, so we found a spot against the wall where we had a partial view of the singer and the guitarist. It didn’t matter we couldn’t see them fully. We could definitely hear them.
Devon slipped one arm around my waist, his palm flat to my abdomen, his lips in my hair. I leaned my head against his broad chest. A sigh I couldn’t hear, only feel, drew up from my toes.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I said aloud, because it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to hear a thing and, somehow, by saying the actual words, it helped me to realize it was true. Standing here in this deafening bar packed with hot, sweaty bodies, and Devon’s six feet of solid muscle at my back, his warm breath tickling my neck, I felt complete. My soul sang with joy. Corny, but true.
It seemed so odd how a few short months ago, Devon had been little more than a stranger. Yet now, I couldn’t figure out how I’d lived without him, because I sure as hell couldn’t live without him any longer. The thing I had to somehow figure out was whether Devon’s feelings remotely matched mine. He must know we’d moved on from the casual, desperate coming together in Monaco to this warm, comforting closeness we now shared.
Not to mention the explosively satisfying sex, my body accepting him as though he was the only key to fit my lock.
The band finished with a flourish and a bellowed, “Goodnight!”. But when the crowd began stamping their feet and clapping their hands over their heads, the lead singer capitulated and sang an encore.
Satisfied, the crowd started to dissipate.
I twisted in Devon’s arms. “You good?”
He bent to kiss me. “No, with you, I’m great.”
I traced his bottom lip with the tip of my finger. Maybe I should repeat my earlier declaration knowing this time, he’d hear it. He might not say it back, and that’d hurt, but it wouldn’t change my feelings for him. He deserved to know.
“Devon, I—”
“Well, well, if it isn’t Reilley Queen Fucking Bee Bennett, gracing us minions with her royal presence.”
My blood ran cold. I’d know that voice anywhere. I turned slowly, my gaze falling on Eric. The ex that… Just. Wouldn’t. Die. Not literally die, obviously.
Maybe literally.
“Eric,” I said, feeling Devon stiffen behind me. Ah, so he remembered our conversation in Monaco. “What a shitty surprise. Why don’t you crawl back under your rock and leave me the hell alone.”
He barked a laugh, the sound grating on me. “When’s your next book coming out, Riles?”
“Why?” I asked. “So you can one-star it?” I looked him over derisively. “You’re such a pathetic loser, Eric.”
Devon moved to the side, his arm protectively around my shoulder. “Let’s go, Reilley.” He shot a cold gaze at Eric.
“You’d better watch yourself, buddy,” Eric said. “No idea what she’s using you for, but when she’s done, you’ll be tossed aside like trash.”
Devon straightened, his spine erect, giving him an inch or two over Eric. “Move.”
One word said with such power and authority, it wiped Eric’s smug grin off his bastard face. Devon’s arm dropped from my shoulder to capture my hand. He glared at Eric who actually shifted out of the way. As we passed him, I flashed a triumphant smile.
“Bitch,” he muttered, too low for Devon to hear.
I stopped, my hand slipping from Devon’s. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” I said, my tone glacial. “You’re dull, useless in bed, your dick is tiny, and you haven’t got a clue where a clit is located.”
“Maybe not,” Eric replied, “but I know a cunt when I see one.”
Devon’s fist smashed into Eric’s face. His nose exploded, blood splattering the wall and the floor. Eric stumbled then fell into a nearby table. The wood splintered, the loud crack drawing the attention of a few lingering customers and the bar staff. Devon hauled Eric to his feet and sent another heavy blow to his stomach. Eric’s breath left him in a whoosh, and he doubled over, clutching his middle and coughing violently.
I stood by and watched. If Eric thought I’d step in to save him, he had another think coming.
“That’s enough, bud.” One of the security team members took hold of Devon, wrenching his arms behind his back to stop him from hitting Eric for a third time. Devon didn’t struggle, but he did flash a concerned look my way, checking for my reaction.
When he found me smiling, he did, too.
I walked up to Eric. His nose was clearly broken, and he was struggling to stand upright from the blow to his abdomen.
“That was for calling me a cunt,” I said, jerking my head toward Devon. “And this is for calling me a bitch.” I curled my fingers, making a fist, and punched him square on the chin. Fuck, it hurt, but it satisfied the hell out of me.
Another member of security stood between us while Eric spat obscenities, most of which I couldn’t make out because he was too busy trying to hold his nose in place.
I held my sore, bruised hand close to my body and grinned over at Devon. “Well, if you’re spending a night in jail, I want to be in the cell next door.”
Devon
After the fight in the bar with Reilley’s ex, the manager called the police. As luck would have it, one of them recognized Reilley and, after cautioning us both, they let us go. By the time we stumbled into the apartment and cleaned up our bruised knuckles, it had turned three in the morning. Reilley fell asleep the second she crawled into bed, and despite it having already turned ten the next morning, she still hadn’t stirred.
Unlike Reilley, I’d lain awake all night, unable to drop off. After an hour of tossing and turning, I’d picked up Reilley’s manuscript and spent the next six hours reading. She was good. Better than good. A genius with words. Despite Reilley’s reassurances that mine was a book people would love, my greatest fear for this biography had been my lack of celebrity status. While some engineers were almost as famous as the drivers they took care of, I’d always shunned the spotlight, partly because of my introspective personality, but also owing to the secret I was desperate to keep hidden.
But Reilley had taken my tales of winning and losing, of fighting and backstabbing, of triumphs and tribulations, and turned them into an absolute page-turner. At
times, I’d become so engrossed, I’d forgotten the book was about me.
I desperately needed this book to sell. Charlotte’s treatment was progressing well, and while I couldn’t give her back the use of her limbs—no matter how much I prayed—if the money I’d paid for the Switzerland facility resulted in the removal of her ventilator, maybe my self-condemnation would begin to recede.
As I flipped the final page, Reilley murmured beside me. Her eyelids flickered, then she yawned, stretched, and eventually opened her eyes.
“What time is it?” she croaked, clearing her throat.
“Half past ten.”
“Oh, that’s not bad. I thought it might be later.” Her hooded gaze fell on the manuscript in my lap. She sat up straight. “You read it?”
I nodded. “Stayed up all night.”
“And?”
She rubbed her knuckles over her sternum, her expression filled with trepidation.
“I loved it, Reilley. Seriously, it’s fucking brilliant.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief, and her face lit up, her smile slow to build but strong enough to last the rest of the day. “Oh God, Devon.” She flung her arms around me, dotting kisses over my face, my neck, my chest. “Really? You’re not just saying that? You really liked it? You don’t want to make hundreds of changes?”
“I don’t want to make any changes. I loved it.” I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand. “You are so talented.”
“Ah, you’ve made my day, and it’s only just begun.”
Snuggling beneath the covers once more, she tucked herself into my side. Her fingertips danced over my chest, inching lower. She traced my abs with her nail, lightly scraping the skin. My stomach muscles clenched, and my cock thickened, ready for action as it always seemed to be around Reilley. I might have been celibate for over four years, but I’d made up for it in the three months since I’d given in to my feelings for this gorgeous girl blinking up at me.
The Full Velocity Series Box Set Page 51