“Why?”
“Because of your heels. They are rather high.” He smiles at me warmly. “I don’t want you to break your neck because of my fancy.”
I’d love nothing more than to hold on to Devon, but not because I’m afraid to fall.
And that’s the only reason he offers his arm, apparently, so it’s better to avoid touching him altogether.
“I won’t,” I say confidently.
At least not my neck.
My heart is a different matter…
The labyrinth of roses is more beautiful than it was when the afternoon sun illuminated its bushes. The petals glisten in a silvery halo, and the contrast between the shadows and the delicate moonlight creates a magical fairyland feel.
There are no artificial streetlights here, only candles at the windows of the small chapel that stands at the center of the maze.
Devon ambles to the building and waves to me. “Come, the view is amazing from here. You can see the entire rose garden, the canyon, and the hotel at one glance.”
I stagger over to him. The lack of proper lighting might contribute to the fable-like atmosphere, but it also makes the path more challenging.
Confusion pulls in my belly with each shaky step I take.
Chelsea had convinced me that Devon’s puzzling behavior might mean something. I even thought I saw confirmation that my friend was right during our afternoon together. But then when I invited him to dance, he refused me. Point-blank.
If he wanted a chance to cozy up with me, he surely wouldn’t have done that, right?
The slow beats of a song from the ballroom drift around us, and a silly disappointment surfaces in me once more. I’m tagging along on his walk like a clumsy puppy, without even understanding why he wished me to accompany him on this trip in the first place.
That’s enough, Laia.
The voice of confidence I’ve been nurturing over these past weeks finally makes its appearance.
And it’s right. I have to stop beating myself down. What I must do, instead, is clear the situation with Devon, once and for all.
“Why am I really here, Devon?” I blurt out when I reach him, even if I didn’t make a conscious decision about confronting him.
Devon turns to me, his arms opening as his shoulders pull up in perfect synchrony with his brows. “You’re here to see the garden with me.”
I square my shoulders before leveling his gaze. “No, I mean why did you invite me to Tucson? I don’t think you really needed me here as your assistant.”
Devon shakes his head, his tone still baffled. “Yes, of course, I did. Your company here means so much to me.”
Again these ambiguous words.
Is he doing it on purpose? Can’t he see how easy it is to misinterpret what he’s saying?
I draw in a big breath as I gather my wit.
Maybe Devon can’t help himself. Perhaps flirting is in his blood. But if he’s playing with me, even if unwittingly, I need to know. Now.
“Why didn’t you want to dance with me?” I ask.
Devon’s jaw drops, then he throws back his head and laughs. “Oh, heavens, is this why you look so sullen? You wanted to dance with me?”
Hold your ground. “And what if I did? Is that a crime?”
His face becomes serious, and his eyes lock with mine. “No, it’s not. Why did you want to dance with me, Laia?”
I take a step back and land against the wall of the chapel. I fold my arms in front of my chest.
Embarrassment and a strange boldness war for space inside me, but I somehow manage both with equal aplomb—which makes me wonder how much I’ve truly changed since meeting Devon.
This contemplation becomes fact when the words the old me would never have dared to utter find their way to my lips. “I wanted to dance with you because…uhm…I think I fancy you.”
I describe my feelings with a non-committing word, even if my ribcage drums. Despite my impulse of courage there’s still enough of the shy Laia left in me.
Devon’s eyes widen, but before he can respond, I add, “And based on some of your late actions, I assumed you might fancy me. But—”
His lips curl up. “But now you think I proposed a walk instead of accepting your invitation to dance because I’m not interested in you.”
His voice is soft and thick with a rough emotion—a bit like a sour punch straw candy. Below the zest of acidity, I can sense its sweet taste.
I nod.
He deduced my thought correctly. Now the ball is in his court.
Devon gives me a bold, sweeping gaze. “So, you believed I refused to dance with you because I didn’t want to have you in my arms…” He takes a step toward me. “…feel your warm body pressed to my chest…” He approaches even more. “…or have your mouth only inches away from my own?”
He’s so close I can see the tiniest details on his face in the glow of the candlelight.
“Something like that,” I mumble.
He tilts his head, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “Well, Laia, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Do I?” I whisper.
He wiggles his brows and nods. “Absolutely. Because I’m interested in you. A lot. And not just as my assistant, but as a woman. Because,” he chuckles shortly, “despite what you reproached me for at Jimmy’z, I’m all too aware that this is what you are. I know as your boss I’m not supposed to be feeling this way about you, but I do.”
He smiles in a boyish, I’m-guilty-but-I-don’t-mind way.
I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing.
Am I awake or dreaming? “But I’m not skinny, blond, or tall,” I say as if my brain struggled to accept Devon’s abrupt confession.
He sighs. “No, Laia, you’re not. And yet, you set fire to me like no one ever could.”
As if Devon can read my doubts, he leans in so his breath caresses my ear and adds, “You, Laia, are nothing I could have ever imagined wanting, yet you arouse every sense, every thought, heck, every feeling in me.”
He brackets my waist with a palm on either side, and then rubs the tip of his nose against mine.
I search his gaze, and what I find nearly has me swaying.
Devon isn’t lying about his attraction to me. I read the molten desire in his eyes, taste it in the ragged pants of his breath.
Warmth swirls through my belly, yet I stand motionless as our lips almost touch.
However, as soon as Devon brushes his mouth on mine, gently as if he’s asking permission, a sharp, wild need sizzles through me. My fingers yearn to touch him, and my lips to taste more of him. It’s a potent sensation I’m entirely unfamiliar with, yet it seems so natural…so right. Its raw power clobbers my inexperience.
My hands snake behind his nape without hesitation, hauling him closer to me.
My fervor wrenches a moan from Devon, and his kiss becomes deeper and more demanding. He slides his arms behind my back in a hungry hello.
My soul does triumphant somersaults at the delicate trail of kisses he leaves on my neck as he moves up to nuzzle on my ear.
But despite the joy, there is also a flicker of fear.
Devon didn’t speak of love. Only of liking, arousal, and desire…
What if he’s only driven by sheer lust and nothing more?
Maybe this is just a regular make-out session for him, while it means everything to me.
The anxious thought tries to overpower my mind, but the bewitching energy that passes between Devon and me proves stronger. It forces my doubt back into a hidden corner where it can’t disturb me.
A yearning to surrender entirely to Devon’s sweet teasing blots out all my reason and I abandon myself to our mingling breaths.
I hope that wherever our kiss will lead me, I’ll be fine.
Chapter 41
(Devon)
My lips are probing Laia’s soft mouth, and her choppy breaths devour my will to resist her body’s sweet temptation. All my control flees, leaving only the madness of desire I fe
el for her.
I’m dazzled by the licks of electricity racing through my veins, but the warm glow that fills my chest is even more amazing.
Only, in this moment, do I understand how right my innocent Laia has been…and how wise.
I can surely testify now that, when you love a person, intimacy—be it only a kiss—becomes something indescribably profound.
As Laia’s skin brushes against mine, making me go mindless with an insatiable craving for her, it’s not only our bodies that explore each other but also our souls.
Which is a bone-tingling, heart-pumping, wanting-to-embrace-the-world kind of experience that I never dreamed existed.
My hands move up to her hair, tracing the fine line of her spine. I immerse my fingers in her black mane, massaging her scalp with my fingertips.
A hum of pleasure slips from her lips and, in a trice, all my cells vibrate with the manly desire to pin her against the wall and discover every secret inch on her neck, ear, and beyond.
But as much as I want to indulge my longing, I know it’s the moment to stop. If not, I’ll go too far and drag Laia with me.
I slowly pull back.
As her eyes flutter open and I take in her surprised glance, I almost curse myself for my chosen path.
“Why did you stop?” she asks with a timid but lustful voice that hints that maybe, just maybe, I could have gone a tad further with her if I had only tried.
But I didn’t want to.
Not this way. Not yet. I need to do this right with Laia.
I caress her lower lip with a thumb. “Believe me, if it were only my morals at stake, I would have scooped you up already and brought you to my hotel room. But it isn’t only about me, or what I want. I don’t want to rush you into anything.”
Laia’s cheeks become rosy, and she drops her gaze to the ground.
I love the adorable embarrassment that she fails to hide from me.
After the declaration of our mutual attraction—which is, of course, the understatement of the century concerning my feelings for her—she shouldn’t feel abashed by my comment.
Most of the women I used to date wouldn’t.
But the fact that Laia feels at unease makes her even more special in my eyes.
She raises her chin, her eyes traveling to mine. “And you don’t mind…you know that I won’t…?”
I sigh. “You want me to be honest with you?”
“Always,” she replies promptly.
“Then the answer is, I do. I do mind. Every fiber in my body is aching to have more of you. From the very moment you walked into my office for the interview, I guess. I just took a while to recognize and acknowledge my attraction.”
Laia’s eyes widen, and her lips move into a tiny circle.
“But,” I say and softly tap the tip of her nose, “one of the reasons I find you so bewitching is your character. I respect your strong values. I appreciate that you’re someone who wants to save herself for the person who will be the love of her life.” And I would like to be that person. I omit this thought from my discourse and add, “I know well the flesh’s yearning, and our chemistry is… what shall I call it? Mind blowing?”
A smile spreads on her face. “Well, that pretty much describes it from my side.”
Her cheeky comment does nothing but instigate my wish to capture her mouth again, but instead of giving in, I finish my discourse.
“Yes, from my side, too. I’m afraid I might not be able to stop if I get any more blinded by the heat of passion. And that’s not what I want.”
Laia draws in a deep breath as if she’s summoning her strength or courage. “And what is it you want? From me, I mean.”
I want you to love me the way I love you.
“I want to…uhm, date you? I’d like you to see I’m more than just a player.”
Laia raises herself on her tiptoes and leans close to me. Her lips brush against mine as she whispers, “I already know you’re more than that. If not, I wouldn’t like you the way I do.”
She plants a feathery kiss on my mouth.
The tingles she leaves behind, and probably the unexpected boldness of her words and gesture, make me lightheaded, and I blurt out, “Laia, you’re the woman I always desired.”
Her eyes widen, and, in a second, her lips are back on mine.
The contours of the world blur around us and I give in to the joy of having her breath uniting with mine.
When she moves back, she grins at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to test your self-control. I just couldn’t resist doing this after what you said.”
“You know, I might have better willpower than I thought. Maybe we could give it a few more nudges.”
My phrase lures out that delicate pink hue I’ve come to worship on her skin. She giggles. “Why don’t we go back and have a dance instead?”
“So, you like dancing? But in my kitchen, you said you weren’t a dancer.”
“Well, I’m not, but I’m not wooden-legged either. I said what I did because I needed a reasonable excuse to explain why I preferred being a homebody to going out with Chelsea. Other than being a bookworm, I mean.”
A smile spreads on my face. “Very well, then. Let’s go dance. But on the way back, I’m keeping you close to me. I hated to watch how you struggled on the pebbles.”
Laia winks. “Deal. If I’m not mistaken, the band has just started playing a Solomon Burke. If we hurry, we might catch the end.”
We meander to the building hand in hand. I tease Laia about how, after all, I might turn out as an inspiration for her romance book.
As we chat and joke, and the warmth from Laia’s fingers seeps into my palm, I’m almost able to rid myself of the question of whether I’m what Laia really needs and whether I’ll be good enough for her.
Chapter 42
(Laia)
I switch off the light in my suite and snuggle into the luxurious silky bed sheets, while a sigh leaves my throat. My head is full of swirling thoughts about Devon, and my chest hums.
I suspected my feelings for him were more potent than a simple crush, but only now, in the quietude of my room, do I have the time to catch my breath (not only figuratively speaking) and recognize just how deep I’ve fallen.
There is no question. I’m in love with Devon.
Strangely, this devotion is more off-kilter than I could’ve imagined. Thanks to the countless romances I’ve read, I thought I’d know what it felt like to be in love. I expected a gushy feeling that would plaster a crazy, big smile on my lips. A kind of “cloud nine” sensation.
And while I’m definitely grinning in the darkness as I remember Devon’s kiss…kisses—yeah, definitely plural—there is so much more to my emotions than just euphoric giddiness.
When Devon held me in his arms on the dance floor, I felt whole.
As if a part of me I didn’t even know I was missing was hidden in his gaze. As if, with him in my life, I could build something I couldn’t have seen or known before.
I press a hand on my chest to keep my heart from jumping. But it’s a fruitless endeavor.
I inhale deeply and sit up. I’m too electrified to sleep. I turn the light back on and reach for the book on my nightstand. Perhaps reading a chapter from my motivational guide will help me settle down?
As if per serendipity, the book opens up on a page titled “Sharing and Showing Your Love.”
It’s the section dedicated to the various love languages. It argues that when we deliberately choose to disregard the style we’re most comfortable using because of another person, that’s a potential sign of true love.
Though I read this chapter some time ago, my breathing quickens when I scan the lines.
Devon is most at ease with showing his attraction physically. He’s even a true master of it, as I could attest to tonight.
I ignore the thrills the memory of Devon’s touch unleashes in me and focus on the detail of how he clearly decided to respect my boundaries even if it meant frustrating his own m
anly desires.
Could this be a sign that Devon feels as strongly about me as I do about him?
One of his phrases comes back to me.
Laia, you’re the woman I always desired.
It sounded like an honest slip. Something he wasn’t ready to reveal to me yet, but did it anyway because he got caught up in the moment.
The possibility that the book is right, and thus Devon might love me, sends me on a dreamy mind trip. It involves lots of white fabric, my and his families and friends, and an enormous cake with chocolate frosting.
When I get to the point in my vision where Devon and I are about to exchange our vows, I shake my head.
I don’t need this fantasy. What I need is to reciprocate Devon’s considerate gesture in my own way.
I want to surprise him. Make him see I’m ready to step out of my comfort zone for him. I secretly hope it might prompt him to be more verbally forthcoming about his potential feelings for me.
I shut the book and drop it to the bed. I jump up, fish my slippers from beneath the bed, and put them on. I grab my room card and head straight to the door.
In less than a minute, I glide with a quiet rustling on the stairs.
I hope nobody will be sportive enough to use the staircase in the middle of the night when there’s a perfectly well-functioning elevator.
Though Devon and I were among the last to leave the gala, there could still be some guests looming about.
I’d like to meet as few people as possible in my striped pajama pants and T-shirt that reads, “I like to party, but by party I mean take naps,” which is courtesy of my all-so-funny brother.
I foretaste Devon’s bewilderment when he sees me at his door. I hope he’ll like the glimpse of my less timid, more flirtatious side and appreciate the special good night kiss I plan on giving him.
My wish is that it will keep him dreaming of me.
And me of him, of course, but that’s a given.
I push the glass door leading to his floor open, and it creaks despite my conscious effort to exercise as little pressure as possible. I scurry along the toffee-colored carpet of the corridor when, suddenly, I hear a chirring noise.
Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Page 27