“Why?”
Growling as I stand with a hearty fist around the knot of my towel, I tell him, “Because we’re just friends, Devyn.”
Instead of answering, he cocks his head to the side, and I hate that I love the way the wet tips of his hair dangle in front of his eyes. My body burns as his eyes travel up my body starting at the tips of my toes. Then I remember what he must be gawking at.
I turn away so that my left side is the one facing him as I pluck the rest of my clothes from my dresser.
“I’ll. . .um. . . go change in the bathroom.”
Hurriedly he launches himself from the bed. “No, no. I’ll wait in your living room. You get dressed here.”
Shocked at how quickly he wants to retreat from the space, I try to mask my hurt. I try to shift that trusty shield back into place, but it’s useless.
“Okay.”
My eyes widen at his approach, his steps soft but purposeful as he strides toward me. Words aren’t exchanged as his hands lift toward my face and he gently traces the scar running across my cheek. I wait for the disgust, for the revulsion I’ve seen in so many others, including my mother, but it never comes. Instead, his eyes shine with some emotion I can’t read.
Then, before I know what’s happening, Devyn leans down and presses his full lips against my cheek, against my scar, and for the first time I don’t feel immense pain from the scar tissue and nerves. Instead, I feel a tingle so soft traveling all the way down my body.
I stand there staring up at him as he steps back. I can tell he wants to say something; he has that look in his eye, one that looks as if he’s found a mystery to solve.
Devyn continues out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him and it takes me a minute to get my wits about me. If a kiss on the cheek from Devyn feels like this, I can’t imagine how it would feel on my lips or a place even more intimate.
My jeans feel like sandpaper against my heated skin as I struggle to tug them up my legs. Hooking my bra in place, I notice that my breasts feel heavy and confined behind the cups. Yanking the yellow shirt over my upper body, I grab my towels and head back into the bathroom to run a brush through my hair and dry the ends.
A few minutes later, I step out of the bathroom and back into the living room to find Devyn sitting at my kitchen counter scrolling through his phone. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he gazes at the screen.
“Miss anything important?” I ask as I approach.
Immediately he locks the screen and places the device on the countertop. “Naw, just movie stuff.”
“Oh.”
I let my comment linger because it’s another reinforcing remark that he is so far out of my world.
“Hey, come here,” he requests, holding out his arm inviting me up against his body, between his legs on either side of the stool.
I take one step, then two, until I’m just within his reach and he yanks me forward. His strong arms practically encompass my entire body as he wraps them around my back. I do the same around his trim waist, reveling in the feel of my body pressed against his. I already know that I’ll miss him when he leaves. I’ll miss the way that he lets me feel like I’m important, even if it’s just for a moment.
My head tucks into that space between his shoulder and neck and I’ve never felt a spot where my head has fit so perfectly. Not until this very moment.
I want to nuzzle closer, inhale more of his signature scent, but I remain still, silently savoring this chance to be close to someone.
Then I feel his hand slide upward until he reaches the back of my head. Wordlessly he fingercombs my hair and I purr at the sensation. His answering chuckle proves that he heard my sound of enjoyment.
“I love how soft your hair is,” he says reverently.
“Thank you,” I murmur in return, the feel of my breath warm against the skin of his neck.
I don’t dare tell him that it took years to grow it out after the accident. So much of it had been cut away during the surgeries.
“Can you skip work today? I kind of like having you like this.”
I want to tell him that I wish I could, but I can’t. Uncle Jeff needs me, and when Devyn leaves, he’ll be all that I have.
Standing back, his hands fall to my waist and I have to force myself to ignore how good they feel there.
“No, they need me.”
Our gazes stay secured on each other, another wordless interaction where we both want to say something more.
“Okay,” he whispers, finally breaking the spell we’ve found ourselves in.
CHAPTER SEVEN – DEVYN
The lunch crowd has dimmed but I barely notice. I’ve been back in the kitchen with Larsen doing whatever I can to make her laugh. That beautiful melodic tone is like music to my ears, the most addictive drug you can imagine in musical form. I honestly believe she could wipe clean all of the world’s turmoil with just her chuckle.
“Oh my gosh, Devyn. That is not how you crack an egg,” she explains between her fits of giggles. I have been showing her my hibachi skills, attempting to throw an egg in the air and slicing it in half with a spatula. Unfortunately, more of the eggshell lands on the griddle than the egg itself. Most of the membrane and yolk end up on the vent hood.
“Surely you can see my technique is there,” I try to justify as I try it again, the mechanics following the same routine. Larsen laughs so hard that she bends at the waist as she tries to catch her breath.
A waitress peeks into the kitchen area. “Can you keep it down in here?” she asks, but I look over to find her smiling warmly at Larsen’s back. “Someone may think you’re having too much fun in here and feel left out.”
“Sorry.” I pretend that I actually mean it, holding my spatula in the air, my own smile giving me away.
“Is that egg on the vent?” she asks curiously, launching Larsen into another round of laughter.
Instinctively I use my free arm to tug her close. She buries her head against my chest, wraps her arms around my waist, and continues her incessant giggles. Something about holding her like this feels better than any Academy Award I’ve ever held in my grasp, and I’ve been the recipient of three. It’s not just that I get to hold her close, that’s actually the farthest thing from the reason that this feels so indescribable; it’s that I’m the reason she’s in the midst of such joy, such elation.
My heart putters in my chest then blasts to full speed. I can almost hear it pulsating in my head over the chuckles muffled by my shirt.
Looking over Joanne’s shoulder, I see Jeff sitting in his usual booth with a checkbook in front of him, but he looks over and smiles. He has a direct line of sight to Larsen and me. And it’s not just any kind of grin. It’s that kind of grin you see from a father as he walks his daughter down the aisle and gives her to her beloved. The type of grin when he holds his grandchild for the first time and watches his daughter sleep peacefully from pure exhaustion. It’s the smile reflected when he watches his daughter face her fear and come out on top.
When his eyes reach mine, I try to return his smirk, but I’m sure that I fail. It’s not that I’m not happy at this moment, because I definitely am, but the pressure to keep Larsen in this bubble of happiness is almost too much. I won’t be here too much longer, and I’m afraid that we’ll simply grow apart as most people do.
As my gaze moves away from Jeff, I take notice of the handsome male sitting at the counter, the same one that had a possessive glare on Larsen the other day. Cole, I believe Jeff called him. Without premonition, I challenge his gaze with one of my own, narrowing my eyes toward him, letting this stranger know that she is mine. I lie with everything that I am.
“Oh my, I haven’t laughed that hard in forever.” Larsen finally peeks her head up from my chest, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes, cheeks rosy from exertion, and a smile reaching across both edges of her jaw. I swear to all that is Holy I have never seen someone look so beautiful before.
The crowd outside the kitchen fade
s away as my sole focus turns to Larsen. She has her hair pulled into an elastic at the top of her head and I reach up, tugging the band free from its confines. She quiets as I run my fingers through her hair, combing the luxurious soft waves, fanning it around her shoulders. A possession takes over me as she slides her hands from my waist to rest on my chest. She probably means to gain some space between us, but instead, I take it as an invitation. I move slowly, giving her the chance to push me away, but I’m only met with wide and curious eyes. The second my lips feel the softness of hers an explosion of our worlds materializes. Everything I’ve ever gone through has led to this instance, this perfection. And I can tell she senses the same.
Placing my hand at the base of her head, I use her hair to tilt her face toward mine and capture her lips between mine. I lose all rational thought as her tongue sneaks out to taste my mouth. I walk her backward until she’s wedged between me and the grease covered wall. She’ll probably regret this in a moment, but I don’t think about that, all of my focus is on the perfection of our kiss. Our dueling tongues, clashing for the chance to explore the other’s mouth, sparing for the upper hand in tasting the other’s flavor. Even during the kiss, I take the opportunity to breathe her in. She’s like a warm taste of whiskey; smooth and fragrant with that after lying lingering punch in the throat.
Larsen moans and I capture that flawless sound in my mouth, taking pleasure in the erotic noise. My free hand reaches down to the hem of her shirt and I slip it underneath, resting my palm against the satiny skin of her waist. Her hands fist, gathering my shirt in her hold, pulling me as close as our two bodies will allow.
We’re lost in the scene, so engrossed in each other and the rightness of our kiss that we only break apart at the sound of catcalls and claps from the other room. My eyes open and I’m hurt and surprised when I don’t find the lust and passion in Larsen’s; instead, hers are swirling with a mix of embarrassment and what I translate as regret.
Fuck.
Before I can get a second to apologize, Larsen sprints away from me and out of the diner through the back door. In confusion, I look over to the crowd who all seem to have turned their attention away from the kitchen and pin their eyes on whatever they have in front of them. Everyone except for the guy at the counter, burning a hole in the side of my head, and Jeff who looks at me in apology.
Silently I ask if he wants me to go after Larsen, but he answers by shaking his head and exiting the diner, leaving his checkbook and bills on the table.
One of the twins enters the kitchen, grabs the spatula I left haphazardly resting on the griddle, and claps his free hand on my shoulder as he takes over the reins.
“Man, what did I do?” I ask him, but really, I’m asking anyone that can offer some insight.
“Nothing, that was all on us. Sorry, my man,” he says as he goes to cleaning off my egg mess on the vent.
The waitress, Joanne, steps into the kitchen with a few empty plates. “Sorry, Devyn,” she apologizes as she steps past me toward the industrial sink. “We all got a bit overzealous in our excitement. We just want her to have her happily ever after, you know?”
I blanche at her words. It was just a kiss after all. I have nothing to offer her. “I’m. . .we’re not. . .” I stutter, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Hey, I just meant that you let her realize that it’s okay to feel something. She’s been living in an emotional coffin for so long I think she forgot what it feels like to feel alive.”
Considering what little I know of Larsen I can’t really imagine how it must have felt to know that you can feel something other than contentment.
But don’t I?
Because I’ve never felt like this about anyone the same way that I have for Larsen in such a short time, just a day or so really. It’s almost as strong as I feel toward this upcoming project, if not more. And fuck, that is not going to help me stay focused, but I’m not sure I can turn it off even if I tried.
“Is she coming back?”
“Probably not. But you’re welcome to hang around if you want. Or there is a great state park about half an hour from here.”
My favorite pastime pops into my mind so I don’t hesitate to ask. “What about a library?”
“Sure. It’s Sunday so it’s closed, but I can get you the keys. After all, the mayor has access to every building in town.”
“If it’s not a problem, I would be grateful.”
Nodding her head, she drops the rest of the dirty plates in the basin and grabs a towel, drying her hands as she guides me toward Jeff’s table, snagging a set of keys resting beside a stack of bills. She slides out the key with the purple cover and hands it to me.
“You know, I like you. I didn’t at first, I was afraid you were exactly like everyone had said, but you surprised me. I see a lot of people come and go in this place. It takes a lot to surprise me.”
“Thanks?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says as she parts, and I wonder how she can be so certain, but without questioning her, I leave the diner and wonder which direction I should head to find the library.
But my sense of direction takes me almost directly across from the apartment I’m staying in. Of course, this would be where the library is located. And I can also keep an eye on the window overlooking the street. The one with the woman looking outward toward the sky, oblivious to the man with the internal pain festering at an alarming rate below her on the sidewalk.
I don’t see Larsen at all that night, except in my dreams where our kiss replays over and over again like a silent film. I was watching it from the outside, envisioning the way her body curved against mine as I pulled her closer, our lips a blur of passion and lust as they melded together. The small film was as perfect as I could imagine. And it was real.
As I wake, the remnants of her taste still linger on my lips. I almost hesitate at brushing my teeth, afraid to lose her essence. Fear surges through me as I consider what this day may hold, and my hand holding the toothbrush begins to shake. I wonder if she’ll be herself, acknowledge me, or hide back into the shell she was in when I first arrived.
I run my hands through my hair and stare into the mirror across the way, my bare chest and face filling the small oval glass. A knock sounds on the door to the apartment and I startle at the noise. I pay no attention to the fact that I’m clad in a pair of blue boxer briefs, although I should probably worry that it’s a fan or photographer at the door.
Checking the peephole, I can’t hide the grin as I swing the door wide to find an anxious Larsen on the other side. Her mouth hangs wide as if she’s about to begin speaking, but her focus lands on the deep V-cut at my hips dipping below the waistband of my boxers.
“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time, though hers is far more breathless than mine.
“Let me throw on some pants,” I mumble, taking a step back from the door as I hold it open for her to enter. My lack of clothing is probably making her uncomfortable.
But as she’s done so many times before she surprises me as she reaches out and takes hold of my bicep, her eyes now pinned to my face.
“Wait.” Without releasing her grip on my arm, she closes the door behind her and takes a step closer to me. I brace myself for her apology almost anticipating it.
“I’m sorry about yesterday.” There it is. I practically deflate under her hold, my shoulders drooping toward the floor. “Devyn. I’m not sorry for the kiss. Not at all. Just for how I reacted. I was embarrassed that everyone saw that moment, it was special, and I didn’t want to share it with anyone.”
Well, shit. That changes everything now, doesn’t it?
Despite the fact that my morning breath could knock someone on their ass, I grip her shoulder and pull her against me, instantly sealing her lips with mine. This time we have the pleasure of losing ourselves in each other and as she rubs her body alongside mine. On instinct, my thigh slips between her legs and I can feel the heat emanating from her sex. Larsen shifts h
er body slightly so she can rub herself against my thigh and I have to stifle my urge to take her back to my bedroom.
“Devyn,” she moans against my mouth and my cock jerks forward behind my boxers.
My hand slides down her back and around to her front, slipping behind the waistband of her jeans and panties. I can already sense how close she is to falling apart, her movements are twitchy and her kiss is urgent, powerful, hypnotic. As my fingers reach the slick heat of her folds, she rocks her hips forward causing my hand to glide against her sex, my thick thumb hitting her clit at just the right spot. Circling the tight bundle, I open my eyes to watch her face in amazement as she pulls back. Her lips are parted and slick from our kisses, her cheeks rosy in desire, and her eyes glossy with anticipation.
Larsen’s body begins to quiver as she grips my shoulders. “Oh, God,” she whispers, her back arching against my arm as her head tilts toward the ceiling as she falls over the precipice. Larsen’s chest rises and falls beneath her yellow shirt. Her breathing is deep and heavy as she gathers herself. I wish that she didn’t have the barrier blocking my view of her curves.
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” I respond, adjusting my cock beneath my boxers as she pulls away.
“I. ..ugh. . .need to go to work.”
Not all of my synapses are firing as I stare at her blissful face. “Sure.”
Larsen takes a few tentative steps back toward the door to the apartment, ready to make her escape. “Are you going to come by?”
“I will if you want me to.”
And I really hope that she does.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be down in a bit.”
“Okay.” She licks her lips as she turns to exit the room.
“Hey, Larsen?” She spins on her heels at my question, arching her brow in reply. “It means a lot that you came to apologize. Most people don’t have the courage to do that.”
I don’t expect any reply, so when she doesn’t give one, I’m not disappointed. But a small grin does grace the fine lines of her mouth as she leaves me alone with my thoughts and heavy dick.
The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance Page 8