by Evie Claire
“Nah. I’ve got some stuff in my bag if I get hungry.”
“Okay then. I’ll be here at five. Unless you need me before then. And I’ll send this to your attorney as soon as I get back to the hotel. Anything else?” Jane is as perky and prompt as Ernest.
“That’s all,” I answer with an amused smile. Wow. This assistant thing is pretty freakin’ awesome. I should have done this a long time ago.
“Hey, Jane.” I stop her in the doorway. She turns. “Has Devon arrived yet?” I ask before I realize what I’m saying and how desperately hopeful my voice sounds.
“Oh, um...” Jane drags out her answer. She looks to the floor, to me, back to the floor. Then she raises her head and looks to the doorway behind me. I follow her gaze over my shoulder. You’ve got to be kidding me.
Looking every bit the sex symbol, he leans against the hallway doorframe in jeans and a thick wool sweater, hands loosely tucked in his back pockets. Jane clears her throat.
“I’ll be leaving now, Miss Klein,” she says quietly. I don’t even look her way. The front door closes and locks. I stand, turning to face him, a mix of fear and anticipation tumbling through me.
He shrugs off the doorframe, walking slowly, confidently my way. His eyes bore deeper into me with each step. I try desperately to read his face, looking for some sign of what he’s thinking. I’ve promised myself I will not fall back into bed with him. Not without some sort of resolution to this problem. I cannot be that weak. But looking at him looking at me like he does, all my good intentions and resolve prove utterly useless.
Needing relief from the searing navy gaze that unravels me, I turn to the kitchen to get some water. He’s the one stalking me in my own house. He can speak first. Only, he doesn’t, at least not fast enough for me.
“Are you lost?” I ask after pouring a glass of smartwater. He shakes his head with a devilish grin. Normally I love his smiles. This one is annoying as hell. “This is my house...” I’m about to tell him to get his indecisive ass out, but he cuts me off.
“Our house, Sunshine.”
“Excuse me?” Either I’m hearing things or he’s off-his-meds mad. If he hasn’t solved the Heather problem, I’m damn sure not living with him.
“This is our house. I thought you’d like it.” He looks around the den and kitchen with hopeful yet anxious eyes, like my approval means everything. It’s too much. I place my palms flat on the counter, close my eyes, hang my head and breathe deeply. After our week in Malibu, playing house with him is all I’ve ever wanted. He knows that. His using it to get me back is a blow way below the belt. Still, I refuse to give in unless I’m getting what I want, too.
“Devon, I already told you, I’m not the other woman.”
“No, you’re not.” He walks to the counter and places his hands opposite mine. I raise my gaze to find eyes tinted with enough self-doubt to break my resolve. “Hear me out?”
I sigh, shrug and pull up a barstool. He pushes away from the counter to collect his thoughts like he hasn’t had days to think about this. My patience is waning, mainly because I’m not sure how much longer I can resist him. If he touches me, it’s over. I’ll cave like a house of cards.
“Heather is a difficult woman.” His back is to me. I roll my eyes. Like that needed any clarification. “Our situation is fucked up.” He laughs to himself. I remain silent. “It’s work. Business, if you will. There’s no love, no affection. Just two extremely self-centered people using each other to get ahead. For years it’s worked.” I take a sip of water, wishing it were something else. The cabinets catch my eye, and I wonder if there’s anything stronger in them, because I really don’t give a shit about what his relationship with her is or isn’t.
I realize he’s busted me staring off into space. “Is there a point to all this?” I ask with an unimpressed glare. His brow creases and he sucks back from my ambivalence. The realization that I’m not going to be an easy catch this time finally hits home. Nope. Not me. No falling into his arms with my legs spread wide this time.
“I’ve never tried to get away from her. Not really.” He begins pacing, working his hands together as he strides. “I’ve never wanted to.” I blow at a stray strand of hair, again bored by his explanations. My last trick rattles him. In two strides, he closes the space between us. Taking my arms in a tight grip, he turns my barstool to face him and gets all up in my face. “Until you came into my life.”
Now he’s got my attention. But his hands are on me, and that’s a dangerous thing. I spin from his grasp and start opening cabinets. Jackpot! I grab the cool, slender neck of a nice Zinfandel and start rummaging for a bottle opener. He continues, once again realizing I’m not the naïve little girl he once seduced so easily.
“If you want this, Carly. If you truly want us, I’m prepared to get rid of her. For good.” My ears thrum in the silence that follows. It’s everything. The words I’ve waded through this horrible explanation to hear. I finish opening the wine, pour a glass and turn to him.
“And exactly how do you plan on doing that?” I lean against the counter and take my first sip. He clenches his teeth watching me raise the glass to my lips, but he says nothing. Instead, he steps forward, takes the glass from my hand and leads me to the den. I follow reluctantly.
He settles me on the couch, takes a seat on the coffee table opposite me and continues. “I’ve broken my back to build my career, but it’s not worth anything if I’m miserable. And without you, that’s exactly what I am.” His words soften me in the way only a lover’s words can. I swallow a smile that twitches my cheeks because this still isn’t an answer, but I do take his hand. He studies our intertwined fingers
“So what does all that mean?”
“I’ve talked to my lawyers. We’ve been together long enough for common law to apply, but I’m prepared to negotiate a separation.”
“What about her blackmailing? She’ll never walk away.”
“Yes, she will. Heather’s MO is fame and money. I’ve got more than enough of both. And while I hate the idea of buying her off, it’s the only language she speaks.”
“I’m not sure about that,” I argue. I’ve known bitches like her. They don’t give up so easily.
“I am,” he says, staring resolutely forward. “She’s got a price. She always does. It won’t be pretty. It’ll hurt like hell to hand over the hundred million she’s going to ask for. But I’m willing to do it.”
“Devon, what does she have on you?” I ask, unable to believe there’s any secret in the world worth handing over cash like that.
“Don’t,” he says, turning away from me, pain seizing his entire body. “Please don’t ask me that. Everybody’s got parts of their past they need to forget.” I pale at his answer, knowing how right he is. There are big parts of mine that need forgetting, too. I can’t demand to know his if I’m not willing to share mine. “I want to walk away from all this, if...”
“If what?” I ask, leaning into him, forgetting my original question all too easily. He turns back. His face twists. He looks up, his eyes locking with mine.
“You’ve got to give up something, too.” He’s now stone-faced serious.
“What?”
“I need you sober. No more late-night binges with Spencer Hugo. No more party up the nose with Maria Rhodes. It all ends. I refuse to lose someone else to addiction. You’ve gotta promise me it’s over.”
I suck in a deep breath and sit back, pulling my hands away. “Spence, Maria. They’re all I’ve got, Devon.”
“And I’m not saying you can’t be friends with them. I know what they mean to you. But if we’re going to do this, you’ve got to be sober.” He takes my hands again. “Can you do that?”
“I’m already doing that,” I argue.
“No you aren’t.” He looks at the glass of wine on the counter.
“Wine is not my problem. I’m a happy drunk. It’s the drugs that get me. But honestly, Devon, I’ve had the opportunity to use plenty of times and I haven’t wanted to. I’m fine. I promise.”
He shakes his head and licks his lips, readying to argue. I stop him before he can.
“Just one glass a night to relax after set. You can pour it. That’s all I’m asking. Hell, I’ll take a pee test for you every day. I don’t want the drugs anymore. I only want you.” This last admission slips out. His eyes close and he sucks in a breath like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear me say this. Once again, I’m leveled by how much this man loves me.
“Okay.” He gives in. “But I’m pouring it, and that’s all it is. One glass.”
“One glass.” I nod my acceptance of the terms. “So what happens now?”
“I’ll call my attorneys in the morning. Heather will be served with papers. Then our overpriced attorneys will get busy hammering out a settlement.”
“So, that’s your plan? You’re going to buy her off and hope she walks away without outing you?”
“If I put a check for two hundred million in her hand, she’d damned sure better.”
“Two hundred million?” The thought of eight zeros is staggering.
“That’s my initial offer along with joint custody of Angel.” He looks away like the thought makes him physically ill.
“Devon, that’s too much.”
He shakes his head and turns back, taking my hands. “Happiness doesn’t have a price. I’m sick and tired of hiding with you. I’ll work out a settlement. We’ll forget it and finally focus on us. Together. For the whole world to see.” My stomach does a backward somersault off the high dive at the idea of going public with him. But after all we’ve been through, this answer sounds too simple.
“Writing a check seems way too easy.”
“Writing a two-hundred-million-dollar check is far from easy. But there is one more small detail.”
“What?” I answer, dreading his next move.
“So, you’re okay with all this? If I call my attorneys and get this ball rolling, you’ll stay here with me and things are good between us?” he asks, making sure before he continues.
“You’re giving me everything I’ve asked for.” I rest my hand on his. “Of course, I’m fine with it.”
His gaze turns wickedly dark. He nods once. His temples flex. An unresolved anger bubbles up from his depths. In a quick motion, he stands and walks to the door, making sure it’s locked.
“You left me high and dry on the boat.” He reaches a hand down his back and grabs the wool sweater between his shoulder blades, pulling it effortlessly up and over his head. A sliver of taut, tan muscle peeks from the gap between his jeans and the hem of a white undershirt. I lick my lips, wishing my tongue were on his flesh instead. “Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe it.” I swallow a giggle and study the floor. That night. Oh, that night!
“Devon...” I start to explain, but he grabs my shoulders and pulls me off the couch. His waiting arms catch me, holding me so close the heat of his abdomen radiates through the thin T-shirt.
“I’m about to fuck you so good you’ll never leave me again.”
His words are a lightning streak straight to my crotch. He doesn’t hesitate for one single second on his promise. His fingers hold my chin. Our lips find a rhythm they know too well. Only, it’s not soft and delicate like first kisses should be. Whatever I started in him on the boat has been pent up way too long. Growing into an unnatural need only I can satisfy. Now that I’m in his arms and willing, he’s about to take exactly what he wants. This unrestrained passion wakes a primal response in me. An ugly mix of need and want roar to life, and I must have more, so much more than his kisses.
I spring into the embrace, wrapping my legs around his waist. His arms slide down my back and sides and come to rest under my ass, boosting me up higher on his waist so he can walk. Our kisses go deeper, so deep his teeth tear at the delicate flesh around my mouth. I don’t give a fuck. Tear it wide open, bust my lip. Do whatever he has to do.
“Couch or floor?” he asks between kisses.
“Both,” I answer breathlessly, pulling at his T-shirt. Our lips part only long enough to rip it over his head before we crash into one another again.
He opts for a plush rug in front of the fireplace. I wiggle free from my jacket and we begin shedding clothes as fast as we can.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into my ear. “Don’t ever leave me again.” I pull away to skin my pants. I throw them to the side and reach for my panties. “Uh-uh,” he says slowly, and stops my hands.
Oh god. I lie back and try to calm the dangerous nerves flying through my body. From my head to my toes I am shaking violently. Like an addict needing a fix, my body quakes under him, unable to hold still. With quivering arms I reach out and desperately grip his back. Mercifully, he decides not to tease me. Instead of taking them off slow and easy as I fear he will, he gives one hard yank and my panties rip at the seam. It’s like fucking magic. He tosses them over his shoulder and slides a few fingers into me. My bare feet brace against the carpet and I buck off the floor. I don’t need to see the appreciative smile on his face to know how wet I am. His fingers disappear again and pop back out. Now he’s playing with me.
“No, please don’t,” I pant under him. So desperate. “I need you, Devon. It hurts,” I whimper. Because it does. It physically hurts to be so close to him, so severely needing him and not having him inside me. And how the hell he’s waiting is beyond me. I saw the look in his eyes. I know how badly he needs this too. My stomach churns. There’s only one thing that will make this sick feeling go away.
I push my thighs wide, look into his eyes and tearfully plead, “Please, I need to feel you.” Devon’s look is hungry, shocked and every bit as desperate as mine.
He plunges into me and we both groan under the sheer release of feeling each other again.
“Is this what you need, Sunshine?” he pants, eyes closed against my cheek.
“Yes,” I moan into his shoulder. Our lips find each other again. Devon sucks hard on my bottom lip while he drives into me again and again. It’s rough, but it’s everything I need. With each thrust he pushes the needy feeling from me. He’s mine. Once again he is mine and I am his. Again and again he uses me, filling me up to bursting and then pulling away, making me want more. Why does sex have to involve pulling away? Why can’t it just be filling and filling over again? I hate the feeling of him leaving, but god do I love the feeling of him coming.
It takes no time at all to find what we’re looking for in each other. He builds to the bursting point, his extra girth putting pressure on my already sputtering G-spot. With a final thrust we both explode, then quiver and shake together for what seems like a blissful eternity. This orgasm is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. All the need, all the want, all the love I have for this man curl in the pit of my stomach. They ball together and then fly out of me like a fucking mushroom cloud of love, destroying me. I’m left raw and weak, still shaking beneath him, but now for a very different reason. A very, very different reason. A reason that is sweeter and more perfect than a reason could hope to be ever again.
For silent seconds we lie together, soaked in the sweat of love and need. Labored breath rocks our bodies as one, clasped so tightly, neither wanting to be the first to let go. So we don’t. We stay like that, him inside me, slowly growing flaccid, but not pulling out.
“I love you, Carly Klein,” Devon whispers in my ear. And just like that, I know I’ll never leave him again.
“I love you more,” I answer.
“Now about the couch,” he says breathlessly, urging his hips into our favorite rhythm again.
Chapter Twelve
Devon is in his zone. Earphones on. Annotated script in his la
p. It’s a polite way of saying don’t talk to me. Sure, I got a chaste morning kiss and a cup of coffee, but I’m still pissed. After the night we shared, a girl shouldn’t have to climb out of bed for a week if she doesn’t want to.
Instead, I’m sitting on a barstool, waiting on a ride to set, remembering all the ways he used me. Hell, we maybe got an hour of sleep before the alarms went off. Jane is perky, fresh and perfect. She’s about to get punched in the teeth if she doesn’t bring it down a notch. Ernest is the only one who seems to get my mood. He’s cutting a wide path.
“Breakfast?’ Jane asks, checking her enthusiasm after a stern look from Ernest.
“Um...no,” I say, distracted by Devon’s inattention. She follows my gaze and watches him for a few seconds.
“Would you like to go over your lines?” Jane refills my cup with fresh coffee.
“No.” For the first time ever my lines are memorized down to the punctuation. Thanks to fifteen hours of air travel and a raging need to avoid thinking about a certain someone. A certain someone who is now ignoring me. I don’t know why this rattles me so. We’re both here to work. I shake it away, grab my coat and head for the porch, knowing a cigarette will break me out of my morning funk.
“Jerrie forwarded some documents for you to sign.” Jane follows me to the outdoor sitting area and puts a pen in my hand. The logo of my new money manager shines in gold leaf atop the letterhead. Three stark red sticker arrows indicate where my signature is required.
“I bet Jerrie loves having you around. It would’ve taken me months to get these back to her,” I say while signing.
“Jerrie was very excited to hear I was on board.” Jane flips through the pages for me to sign. “Speaking of...” She pulls another stack of pages from her bag. “I’ve signed my NDA agreement and had it notarized. It requires your signature, as well.”
“NDA?” I question.
“I insist on it,” Devon says in my ear. I startle at his touch, surprised he has joined us outside. “Keeps our secrets.” He leans in and places a firm kiss in the hollow between my ear and collarbone. It’s my spot. He knows what this does to me. My annoyance vanishes before he pulls away.