Devil in the Details

by Morgan James

  Goddamn. This woman was something else. And she sure as fuck deserved more than the stupid shit who’d run her through the emotional wringer. What a fucking tool. I was pissed on her behalf that he’d led her on, letting her think she wasn’t good enough when he was the one who’d been at fault. Who the hell cheated on a woman like Lydia?

  Her warm, lithe body pressed to mine felt like absolute perfection. Her heels boosted her a couple extra inches, bringing her forehead right in line with my lips. I felt huge next to most girls, awkward and ungainly. But Lydia was the perfect height, and I knew she’d fit my body like a glove. I wondered if I’d ever have the chance to feel her next to me, my scarred, tattooed skin sliding against her creamy white flesh.

  That sexy-as-fuck grin slayed me, and I slipped off the stool. Holding my arm out to her like the gentleman I most certainly was not, I asked, “Where are we headed?”

  She curled a hand around my bicep and fell into step next to me, then against me. She dissolved into a fit of giggles as she righted herself. “Oops! Sorry!”

  “You good?” I slipped a hand around her waist to steady her, my fingers curving into the soft flesh of her hip.

  “Never better.” She tossed me a sexy, sultry smile, and I studied her.

  We’d shared a few drinks at the bar, but she’d taken her time with them, and she wasn’t slurring her words. Deciding she was at least passably sober—as much as I was, anyway—I led her outside. Lights winked at us overhead, and we strolled leisurely down the Strip in comfortable silence. Once in a while she’d point or pull me to a stop to take in some attraction. Mostly, though, we just enjoyed being together. I focused on the feel of her pressed against my side, the soft curve of her hip beneath my palm. I splayed my fingers, pressing ever so gently into her flesh. She tipped her chin up at me, a beautiful smile lighting her face.

  I couldn’t help it any longer. I pulled her to a stop and cupped the back of her head in my hand. Holding her, I dipped my head and brushed my lips over hers. Everything around us disappeared the moment we connected, bleeding into the distance. Lifting my head, I stared into those pretty eyes. The same ones that had drawn me to her in the first place. Only, instead of sadness, they now held hunger. Lust.

  I liked the feel of her next to me. I liked her quiet, composed demeanor. I liked Lydia—really liked her. It was a stupid, senseless thought, but one I couldn’t help nonetheless. I could see myself with someone like her. I could see myself with her. From what I could tell, she was smart and business savvy. The fact that she was gorgeous was just the cherry on top.

  I was fucking tired of being alone, of having no one to come home to. Lydia was still hurting from a betrayal she’d never seen coming—not only from the idiot she’d been engaged to but her best friend as well. I couldn’t imagine the damage that would do to a woman.

  “You deserve better.”

  A tiny line appeared between her eyebrows. “Um... okay?”

  “I would never cheat on you.” I startled both of us with my statement.

  Her mouth formed a perfectly round ‘O’ of surprise. “I don’t... I don’t know what that means,” she whispered.

  Of course she didn’t. We’d known each other for a couple hours, but I felt... something when I looked at her, when I touched her. And she’d already admitted earlier that she was attracted to me. I only had one more tour—I needed to put in another year, then I’d be out. Lydia had her business—she’d have something to focus on while I was gone. Then we could find out if this thing between us was worth pursuing.

  I couldn’t believe I was even considering this. Feeling her out, I squeezed her hand. “Have you ever considered a long-distance relationship?”

  Her eyes darted to mine, wide with surprise. “Xander...”

  I tugged her closer and framed her face with my hands. “I know it sounds crazy, but Liddy...” The nickname slipped off my tongue like silk. “I like you a lot. You already know I’m attracted to you.” She blinked up at me, her mouth parted slightly as she digested my words. “We haven’t spent much time together, but you just... I feel this connection with you. Do you feel it too?”

  She swallowed hard, then nodded hesitantly. “I... I think so.”

  I took her hands in mine, heedless of the people funneling around us on the sidewalk. “I will always take care of you. I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  “Are you... You’re serious?”

  I almost cringed at the incredulity in her tone. Was that a good sign or bad? I pressed on, determined to feel her out. “Only if you want to. You deserve so much better than that asshole. Let me be that man,” I begged.

  “But... why? Why me?” Genuine confusion filled her eyes, as if she had no idea why I was even asking. Was she really so insecure?

  “I know you don’t know me—but I know me. And I know what I want, Lydia. I want you.”

  She stared up at me for a long moment, unblinking. Every muscle tensed as she opened her mouth to speak, sure she was going to shoot me down. Her mouth closed, and she gave a little nod instead. Hope and lightness filled my heart. “Is that a yes? You’ll give me a chance?”

  She licked her lips, eyes never leaving mine. “Yes.”

  My mouth broke into a huge smile, and I moved my hands to frame her beautiful face, her expression still a bit bemused. I crushed my mouth to hers, my tongue slipping between the seam of her lips, tasting every inch of her. The kiss was hot and hard and insistent, and I broke away, breathing hard. I pressed my forehead to hers, my nose brushing hers as I spoke. “I won’t let you down, Lydia Dawson. You’re mine now.”

  Chapter Three

  Lydia

  My mouth was dry, my eyes heavy. I felt like I’d been hit by a freight train. I shifted in an attempt to stretch my stiff, fatigued muscles, but I couldn’t move. Apparently, the tequila train had run me over, then backed up to park on top of my chest.

  I blinked rapidly to dispel the last vestiges of sleep and blearily took in my surroundings. The room was unfamiliar, and it took several seconds for me to realize I was in my hotel room. The heat at my back and the heavy arm draped over my waist—my naked waist, I realized as I peeked below the covers—told me that I had indeed indulged in a Vegas moment. I remembered the man from the bar, but not much after that. We’d obviously had sex, or so I assumed. There wasn’t a whole lot of room for doubt, considering we were both naked. I could feel a hard ridge pressing against my bottom, and I resisted the urge to press my hips backward.

  What the hell else had happened last night? We’d left the bar and headed down the Strip, stopping to watch the fountain at the Bellagio, then... Then what? My memory was foggy after that. I stole a glance over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of him sprawled out behind me, his head inches from mine on the pillow. The sight sent a momentary pang of longing through my heart. Last night, he’d been sweet and sexy and so gorgeous it hurt to look at him. The lines of his face were softer in sleep, making him look sweet and almost innocent.

  I vaguely remembered our discussion of a serious relationship as we’d walked, giddy and half-drunk, down the Strip. We’d had an amazing time, our passion and lust fueled by the romantic, sparkling lights of the city and the novelty of something new. Despite our initial connection, I knew it would never work.

  Trying to avoid the awkward, after-random-hookup moment, I untangled my limbs from his as gently as possible and slid toward the edge of the bed. His thick forearm tightened around my waist and pulled me back to him.

  “Where do you think you’re going, beautiful?”

  He nuzzled my hair, and I melted a bit. So maybe our morning wouldn’t be so awkward after all. We were both adults; we would part amicably, maybe even trade numbers for later. I almost laughed aloud at the thought. Because he was in the military, he was probably never in one place very long. I would never see the man again after I left this hotel room. I let out a soft sigh. It was really too bad. Come checkout time, my Vegas man would have to stay rig
ht here where he belonged. In the meantime, though, he felt too good. I snuggled up to him, shimmying my hips closer to him.

  Well, good morning. “Happy to see me?” I wiggled my bottom against his morning erection, and his deep laugh rumbled over the back of my neck.

  “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” I gasped as he lightly bit my shoulder, then chuckled, the sexy rumble sending a sensual sensation skittering down my spine.

  “I have a couple ideas.” His hand left my belly and slid up over my ribs, then cupped my breast. A rough thumb flicked over my nipple, and I shifted my legs restlessly, fighting back the urge to moan in pleasure. He rolled me to my stomach, and I pressed my face into the pillow, letting out a soft cry as his fingers slipped lower, teasing my slick folds.

  My legs parted of their own volition as he toyed with my cleft and moved between my legs, his arousal prodding my entrance. I lifted my bottom as his thumb brushed my clit, and before I could speak, he thrust inside with one hard stroke, filling me to the brim.

  Lost in the heady sensation, I pushed against him, finding a steady rhythm, grinding my hips against his. His cock stroked in and out, teasing the bundle of nerves with each pass, and the fire burning low in my belly consumed me with its intensity, causing me to cry out. Burying my face in the pillow, I screamed as I came, my muscles contracting around him, triggering his release.

  Xander let out a groan as he thrust twice more, pulsing inside me, his weight heavy as he slumped over my back. He trailed kisses over my nape before pulling out of me and tucking me into his side. I lay with my head on his chest, my fingers trailing over his lower abdominal muscles, feeling the hard ridges in the dim light.

  He lazily stroked my shoulder with one hand, and the feel of smooth metal caught my attention. I reared back, mouth agape, frozen in shock.

  “Is that a wedding band?!”

  He looked up at me, his face impassive. “Yes.”

  “How could you?” I snatched the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around myself.

  “Lydia—”

  “Don’t ‘Lydia’ me, like I’m the one at fault here!” I clambered from the bed. “I can’t believe this. You lied to me. You told me you weren’t seeing anyone.”

  Fury mixed with shame caused tears to burn the backs of my eyes. How could he? And how could I have missed something that obvious? My passion-fueled happiness from the past few minutes melted away, replaced by humiliation. Why? Why were men so shitty? First Shawn, then Xander. He’d seemed so sincere last night, so genuine when I’d told him about Shawn. He’d even denied being attached to anyone when I’d asked. I wanted so badly to believe I was mistaken, but the gold band on his finger made my heart clench.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I had to know. The words spilled from my mouth. “Is it true? You’re really married?”

  Cerulean eyes staring intently into mine, he nodded. I sucked in a sharp breath, pain exploding in my chest, and my legs turned to jelly. Oh, God. What had I done? I tried to snatch my hand back when he grasped for it, but he was too strong. “Don’t you dare touch me! What are you—"

  “Lydia.”

  I jumped at the commanding tone, his intense blue stare pulling me under. His eyes dropped meaningfully, and I followed his gaze to my own left hand. I stared stupidly at the thin gold band that matched his. My heart stuttered, my brain rejecting the idea even as snippets of memory flashed into focus. Were we...? Had we...?

  “Lydia... we are married.”

  Chapter Four

  Xander

  “Oh, my God. This can’t be happening.”

  I studied her. “You don’t remember.”

  It wasn’t a question so much as a statement, but I said it anyway. She hadn’t been that drunk, had she?

  “Of course not!” Her face twisted into an expression of rage. “I can’t believe you talked me into this! I was drunk and you took advantage of me!”

  “Oh, no, darlin’. Don’t you lay that on me. You were the one saying last night how much you wanted a real man and suggested we get married.”

  “I most certainly did not!”

  I lifted a brow at her. “You did. Multiple times, in fact.”

  “I would never do that!”

  I shook my head. “Really? Then how, exactly, did we end up married if you were so dead set against it?”

  Her jaw dropped as she stared at me. “I’m not opposed to marriage as a whole. I would just never marry a stranger.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “Clearly you tricked me.”

  I couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up in my throat. Lydia glared down at me, and I swung my legs over the bed, not giving a shit that my junk was on full display. Not like she hadn’t seen it—several times. And wasn’t that a kick in the nuts? Best sex I’d ever had, and the woman didn’t even remember. I shook my head as I pushed to my feet.

  Her jaw almost hit the floor as she covered her eyes. “Oh, my God! What are you doing?”

  I batted her hands away. “Little late for that, isn’t it?” Grabbing one hand, I dragged her to the table in the corner of the room and picked up a small packet. “You want proof? Here ya go, darlin’.”

  Her chin notched up as she snatched the folder from my fingers. She extracted the marriage certificate, and a photo fell out and landed faceup on the laminated wood tabletop. I felt more than heard her gasp.

  It was a fantastic photo, really. We’d left the hotel bar and walked down the Strip, talking about how we’d stay in contact while I was away, when suddenly Lydia had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to me, looping her arms around my neck. Why wait? she’d asked. She wanted me. And I wanted her. God knew I was attracted to her—our chemistry was so fucking potent I could damn near smell it smoldering between us.

  I couldn’t explain it, but I felt like I knew her. Not just the tidbits I’d picked up in the short time since we’d met, but really knew her. It was crazy to think, and even crazier to say out loud, but I swore I could read her soul. I knew the kind of person she was, the things she wanted out of life. She deserved the best and, while I wasn’t the best man for her, I’d spend forever trying to be the one she needed me to be.

  So when she’d asked why I wasn’t married, I’d told her the truth—that I’d been waiting for a woman like her. I’d been waiting for her. After almost three decades on this earth, I’d never met a woman like Lydia, never felt so much for someone I’d just met. But she was different in so many ways. She was kind and sweet and beautiful, sexy and smart and so fucking amazing. She made my heart race, turned my blood so hot, my body so hard I thought I’d explode into a million pieces.

  When her smile stretched across those gorgeous lips of hers, her eyes pleading for me to listen, I couldn’t say no. Instead, I’d laced my fingers with hers and speed walked to the nearest chapel. Although it wasn’t Elvis who married us, it still had Las Vegas flair. The officiant was a burly biker guy with tattooed sleeves running down both arms. The witness was his mother, barely five foot tall with a cotton candy pink beehive tall enough to rival that of Marge Simpson.

  In the photo, Lydia had her arms wrapped around my waist in an intimate embrace. Her eyes were on the camera, a dazzling smile on her face. My eyes were on her, an admittedly besotted look on my face, and the photographer had captured the moment forever.

  She ran a finger over the photograph before pulling away and retreating into herself.

  “I think you should go.” She pulled the sheet tighter around herself, refusing to look at me.

  “Lydia, let’s talk about this.”

  “Please go.”

  With a sigh of frustration, I bent to pick up the jeans I’d barely been able to strip off before we’d made love last night—the first time. I pulled them on and shrugged my rumpled shirt over my shoulders, leaving it partially unbuttoned. My wallet and keys lay on the table next to the discarded manila envelope, and I snagged those up, shoving my wallet into
my back pocket. Swiping my phone from the nightstand, I turned to her.

  “I’m going to go grab us some coffee. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Then we’re going to talk.”

  She nodded absently, her posture rigid, and I let out a soft sigh. I wanted to pull her close, reassure her that everything would be fine, but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. My touch might push her over the edge, and I didn’t want to risk losing her. For now, I’d give her some space, a few minutes to herself, then we could clear the air, fully caffeinated and conscious.

  I strode to the door of the hotel room and pulled it open, then took one last look at Lydia before I stepped into the hallway and closed it behind me.

  Damn it. I should have waited and done things the right way—should have wined and dined her, won her over the old-fashioned way, let us get to know each other a little better first. But damn it, I didn’t have time for that shit. I had to nail her down while I could. But the effects of alcohol combined with Lydia’s natural allure meant I hadn’t been able to deny her. We had a special connection, something I’d determined within just minutes of meeting her. Despite our unconventional start, I was looking forward to getting to know her better, learning all the things about her that made her tick. I wanted to know about her childhood, all her memories, her hopes and dreams.

  Now we were stuck in this boat that was sinking perilously, insecurities flooding in faster than I could bail them out. I grimaced. I was never impetuous like this, had never done anything this crazy. I was a good soldier, always following orders and doing the right thing. So, what the hell had happened last night? I’d completely lost my head, been swept away by a pretty face—a beautiful woman who happened to have no recollection of the events that had taken place.

  I liked the idea of having someone to come home to after a mission. Someone to talk with, share my life with. Start a family with. And the more time I’d spent with Lydia last night, the more I began to imagine coming home to her. Seeing her in my house, pregnant with my children. It was crazy, I knew. Who in the hell thought those things as soon as they met someone? But wasn’t that precisely why people dated in the first place—to see if someone would be a compatible partner? I’d just accelerated the process a little bit. Okay, maybe a lot.