by Tiffany Snow
Devon reached down and slid a condom off his penis, tying it off before tossing it into the small trash basket. Standing, he headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I heard the water running.
I sat halfway up, resting my weight on one elbow. Suddenly self-conscious, I reached down and tugged the sheet and blanket up over me, covering my nakedness. What would happen now? Would he leave? Would I ever see him again? The anxiety pressing on me, the sudden sharp need of him that I felt, took me by surprise.
The bathroom door opened and Devon stepped out. He was an impressive sight in his clothes—without them, he was just as formidable. A scattering of hair covered his broad chest, narrowing to a thin line below his navel. My eyes followed it down . . .
“Why are you covering yourself, darling?” he said, sitting on the bed. He made short work of pulling the covers off me. “Your body deserves to be admired.”
The endearment warmed me and I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said something like that to me before, complimented me on something so personal. Devon was so comfortable in his skin, as though not wearing clothes was as easy as being fully dressed.
He reached for my leg, raising it and resting it across his lap, spreading me wide open. I gasped sharply, heat flooding my cheeks. Devon just chuckled.
“A bit late for modesty,” he said. That’s when I saw the washcloth he held. He pressed it between my legs, gently cleaning me. “I thought you might be sore. This should help.”
The cloth was very hot and it did feel good against the parts of my body he’d just put to more use than they’d seen in ages. I was in awe of what had just happened. I’d actually had sex. And not just the crappy, embarrassing kind of sex I’d had before, but the mind-blowing, earth-moving kind with the most amazing specimen of a man I’d ever seen.
“So do you want to tell me?” he asked, his voice casual, intent on his task.
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me who abused you.”
I stared at him, the blood draining from my face. He knew. Of course he did. He’d known the other night when he’d decided to leave. Which reminded me—
“I thought I was too broken for you?” I asked, more than a hint of bitterness in my voice. “That’s what you said the other night, right before you walked out. Why did you come back?”
Devon set aside the washcloth. When he turned back, he moved to lie beside me. I scrambled to put some space between us, but his arm hooked around my waist, drawing me back to him. He quickly had me pinned flat on my back, his leg between my thighs and his torso lying half on top of mine.
“I decided I didn’t give a damn,” he said, studying my face. His gaze followed the path of his fingers as he traced my brow, down the line of my nose to my lips, brushing across my cheek to my jaw. “I wanted you, and I thought you wanted me to.” He paused. “Was I wrong?”
The selfishness of his words was in stark contrast to the tender way he was touching me, the firm but gentle hold his body had on mine. I swallowed.
“No. But what if I’d been afraid?” I asked.
His eyes met mine. “But you weren’t, were you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“No,” I finally said, the word barely more than a whisper. “And I don’t know why.”
“It’s because I saved your life today,” Devon said, “and now you trust me. In here.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to the valley between my breasts. “Though perhaps not up here.” His finger tapped lightly at my temple.
“I barely know you,” I said.
He smiled thinly. “You know me as well as anyone does.”
“But I—”
“Shh,” he hushed me, pressing his fingertips to my lips. “Go to sleep. I need rest, and so do you.”
“You’re staying?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
“You’d rather I go?” he asked, his brows rising.
“N-no, of course not,” I stammered. “I just thought you . . . would. That’s all.”
“I like the feel of a woman next to me,” Devon said matter-of-factly, settling himself beside me.
Reaching down, he tugged the covers up over us, then turned us on our sides. My back was pressed against his chest, my bottom cradled by his hips. His arm rested in the curve of my waist and his hand settled over my breast, his thumb brushing idly over the nipple.
It seemed I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, not that I was protesting. Devon was so large, I felt small next to him. Protected. It was natural for him to take control, easy for me to let him. He was almost absently caressing my body, as one would a pet.
Just before I drifted to sleep it struck me that he’d said he liked the feel of “a woman.” Did that mean any woman would do? And did I care if that answer was yes?
I was awakened in the early hours of the morning to Devon draped over me, his mouth covering a nipple. If I’d been more awake, I would’ve turned away. I had always been self-conscious about my on-the-smallish-side breasts. But Devon didn’t seem to mind, turning me so he could wedge his hips between my spread thighs.
“Once more, luv, before I go,” he murmured, his lips moving against my skin.
I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but I nodded my acquiescence, my breath caught on a gasp as he slid inside me.
The dawn light was enough for me to see his face clearly as he looked at me. His hand skated down my thigh to hook behind my knee, drawing my leg up higher. The new angle was better and I bit my lip at the feel of his cock thrusting inside me, tingles of pleasure radiating outward from where we were joined. My eyes fluttered closed.
“Look at me,” Devon commanded. I pried my eyes back open. His gaze was intense, his hips moving faster. “I want to watch you,” he said.
I held on to him, memorizing the feel of him against me, inside me. His eyes stared deeply into mine as he moved, and it was as though he could see my soul. His skin was warm beneath my fingers, his brow growing damp. I was awestruck by how this time, with this man, I’d finally found what had eluded me all these years. It didn’t seem like he was taking something from me. It felt like I was giving myself and he was giving it back.
He waited for me, not allowing himself to come until I was digging my nails into his shoulders, my body quaking beneath his. Only then did I feel him shudder in my arms, his mouth landing hard on mine.
Afterwards, he seemed reluctant to release me, but he eventually did. He turned and I heard the slight crinkle of the trash can liner as he threw away what I assumed was another used condom. Then he leaned over to brace himself on his arms above me.
“Women are lovely,” he said, almost to himself, “and you even more so than most, sweet Ivy.” He kissed me again, his tongue dipping inside my mouth to stroke mine. But before I could wrap my arms around him, he was gone.
I watched him dress, though it seemed he forgot me the moment he left the bed. He didn’t glance my way as he buttoned his shirt and added his holster and gun. His tie he folded and tucked into a pocket. A man’s watch—his watch—was sitting on the table and he wrapped it around his wrist, then grabbed his jacket.
Glancing at me, he winked, then was out the door, closing it silently behind him. Though I listened, I heard nothing of him exiting the apartment.
Flopping over on my back, I stared at the ceiling, wondering what in the hell had just happened to me. I’d had sex—incredible sex, twice—with a practical stranger. And not just any stranger—someone who I thought was a criminal and yet who had stopped a robbery yesterday. Granted, he’d shot a bullet into a man’s skull not two inches from my own, but it had saved me from an unknown fate at his hands.
I didn’t know how to feel. I was happy. My fears had been overcome in the heat of the moment and I hadn’t gone cold and panicky. Devon would probably never know, or care to know, what he’d done for
me. I hadn’t been permanently broken. He’d proven that.
Which brought me to the other half of what I was feeling, which was rather alone. I thought I probably shouldn’t feel that way. After all, it wasn’t like Devon hadn’t taken great care to make sure I enjoyed it, too. But it felt as though when he walked out, he’d taken a bit of my soul with him. I wondered if that was how the women felt when Logan left, and if they did, why they kept doing it.
Regardless of my confused emotions, my body knew quite well what it was feeling, which was elated . . . and sore. I moved a little and winced. Yes, I’d be remembering Devon today. As if I could forget him.
After another shower, I did my hair and makeup, then dressed in a pair of wide-leg trousers and a thin white blouse, adding a wide black leather belt. Glancing in the mirror, I thought it made my waist look even smaller, which I liked. After slipping on a pair of black Mary Jane heels, I headed to the kitchen. Usually I was the last one out the door, but today I’d beat Logan to the coffee pot. I was on my second cup and half watching a morning news show on the television when Logan made an appearance.
“Good morning!” I said cheerily.
He looked at me askance while he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“You’re up early,” he said, frowning slightly, “and are way too happy for this hour. I take it you didn’t have any bad dreams?”
I shrugged. I’d nearly forgotten the dream that had woken me. Devon and what had followed had driven it from my mind. “It’s okay,” I said.
“You could’ve come in with me,” Logan replied. “I wouldn’t have minded.”
I smiled. “You’re too good to me,” I said. “Besides, I knew you needed your sleep. You’ve been putting in twelve-hour days lately.” And there was the small detail that I’d been comforted by multiple orgasms.
He sighed. “The life of an associate. At least I have a few years under my belt. I feel sorry for all the first-years now. Well, I would if I hadn’t done it myself, not so long ago.” He grinned.
“Any chance of making junior partner soon?” I asked.
“I sure as hell hope so,” Logan said. “I’d hate to think I’ve been killing myself for nothing.” His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “You okay today? To go in, I mean? You look a little worn out.”
I felt heat flood my cheeks and quickly looked away. I thought about telling Logan about Devon, but it was just so weird. A man was sneaking into our apartment late at night and last night he’d had sex with me. Logan would go ballistic if he knew. The breaking-in part would piss him off, but he’d be more upset that I’d slept with a man I hardly knew.
Logan had been protective of me since we were kids, and I knew he wanted me to be happy, to find a guy and be in a good, healthy relationship. He knew I had issues, so despite his teasing over how little I dated, he’d launch right into overprotective-brother mode if he found out about Devon. So I kept my mouth shut.
“I’m fine,” I said, going to the sink to rinse out my mug. “I don’t even know if we’re open today or not, but thought I’d go in anyway. It’s better than moping here at home.”
“Why don’t I take you?” he offered.
“Won’t you have to work late tonight?”
He shrugged. “I’ll come get you and we’ll grab some dinner. I can go back into the office afterwards.”
“I don’t want you to have to do that,” I protested.
“I insist.” Logan held my coat for me to slip into. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to have dinner with the most beautiful woman in the city.” He smiled.
I didn’t answer, just gave him a tight hug and felt his lips brush the top of my head. I felt better, normal even, with him around.
It turned out the bank was open today, and aside from the police tape still cordoning off the safe deposit box area, you wouldn’t have been able to tell a robbery had nearly occurred yesterday. Regardless that we were open for business, it was still slow and I found myself doing busywork when Marcia sidled up next to me from her station.
“Can you believe your hunky hero?” she asked in an undertone. “Talk about keeping cool under pressure.”
“So what happened yesterday?” I asked. “There were two of them, one out here, and then suddenly they were dead.”
“Well,” she said, easing closer and looking like she was about to explode if she didn’t tell me all the juicy details, “your guy—”
“He’s not my guy,” I interrupted.
Marcia rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Well, he was here with all of us, on the floor. Then he started acting funny, like something was wrong or he was going to be sick. So the bad guy came over to him, but before he could even say or do anything, your guy just jumped him! So fast, no one even had time to react. The next thing I know, the bad guy’s on the floor and not moving and your guy had his gun.”
I stared at her, eyes wide. “So he killed him? With his bare hands?”
She nodded. “It was all action-movie-Jason-Bourne shit. Then he fired a shot straight up into the ceiling and went and stood by the stairwell, waiting. When one of the guys with you came out, he did it again.”
And this had been the same man who had slept next to me in my bed last night. I swallowed. Hard.
“Wow,” I said. “He, uh, sounds like someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, right?”
“And it was weird, too,” she continued excitedly, “because when the cops talked to him, I thought they’d be all up in his business about taking matters in his own hands and endangering us and blah blah blah, but they weren’t. They talked to him and then they just let him go on his way. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
Okay, now that was weird. The red tape of an investigation in progress took forever to get through. I knew that from personal experience.
“He sure was hovering over you, though,” Marcia said, adding a wink for good measure. “I think he likes you.”
I should have known Marcia, even with all the chaos going on, would be keeping tabs on what Devon was doing. Though I didn’t tell her exactly how much Devon liked me.
“Did you find out anything more about the robbers or overhear the cops say anything?” I asked, deciding to ignore her comments about Devon and me.
Marcia sobered. “Yeah. I guess the box they were trying to get into was Mr. Galler’s.”
“No way!” I said in surprise. “That puts a whole different spin on him being killed. I wonder what they were after.”
A customer stepped up then and Marcia went back to her window. Business picked up a little after lunch, but I still had too much time with my thoughts.
I hadn’t heard back from the FBI after that one time, so I hoped they’d realized how absurd it was to think I had anything to do with killing him. Personally, though it was a cliché, I still thought the butler did it. The guy they couldn’t find but whom I had met that night.
It hurt in an uncomfortable spot in the center of my chest to think too much about poor Mr. Galler and what he’d endured just shortly after I’d left that night, so I shoved the thought from my mind.
My cell phone rang then, and while usually it was frowned upon if we answered it, I saw it was my grandma and grabbed it anyway.
“Oh, Ivy, thank goodness you’re all right,” Grams said. “I saw it on the news about the bank yesterday.”
“Yeah, it was a little scary,” I admitted, “but I’m okay.”
It took several more reassurances from me before Grams would believe I was really okay, but she finally let it go.
“Sweetie, I’ve got some bad news,” she said. “It’s about Jace. His hearing . . . well, they let him out, Ivy. We just got word a little bit ago.”
A shiver of ice went through me and my palms began to sweat. Logically, I’d known this was possible, but logic wasn’t controlling me now.
“Sweetie, I’m
so sorry,” Grams said when I was silent. “Try not to worry. You’re staying with Logan, your name isn’t on the lease or any of the utilities, there’s nothing he can trace to find you.”
I finally found my voice. “It’s not just me,” I said. “It’s you and Grandpa, too. I don’t want him coming there.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Grams said. “We’ll be fine. I hated having to tell you at all, but I knew you’d be upset if I didn’t. They don’t let just anyone out on parole, sweetie. He may have changed. Prison may have changed him from what he used to be.”
“Not likely,” I retorted. Jace was cunning. I could see him in my head now, telling the parole board about how “sorry” he was and how he’d been “rehabilitated.” I was one of the very few who was able to see through Jace’s lies.
I had to go and, after promising to talk to her later, I ended the call just as a customer stepped up to me. Smiling automatically, my mind was far away as I processed the transaction, my fingers flying by rote over the keyboard before handing over the receipt.
Jace was out.
The twelve-year-old girl still within me wanted to curl inside a closet and hide, just like she used to do. But the adult in me knew I couldn’t. Grams was right. The apartment, utilities, everything was in Logan’s name. My regular mail went to Grams. There was nothing that could lead Jace to me.
And yet my hands still shook as I went through the motions of shutting down my station for the night.
I waved goodbye to Marcia and shrugged into my coat as I headed out the door. Logan had texted that he was on his way so he should be pulling up any minute.
But another car, a familiar one, was already waiting at the curb. I paused uncertainly, staring at the tinted windows. The driver’s side door opened and Devon stepped out, his gaze on me.
A thrill shot through me as our eyes locked, stealing my breath. He wore another designer suit tailored to fit the broad expanse of his shoulders and girth of his biceps. Marcia’s recounting of Devon’s deeds flitted through my mind and my gaze dropped to his hands. His large, capable hands that had killed two men yesterday, then had held me and touched me . . .