Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Oh.” I attempted to laugh. “You know me. I trust everybody.”
“Don’t.” His thumb rubbed soft circles on my wrist. “Don’t trust everybody, Lexi. This is going to sound selfish as fuck, but I don’t want you to trust anybody like that.”
My lips fell open, and suddenly I was terrified that whatever I said next would embarrass us both. So I blurted something completely irrelevant. “I’m thirsty.”
Devlin laughed. “I’ll get you some water.”
When he left the bedroom, I hurried into the bathroom. Behind the closed door, I cleaned myself up and took a few deep breaths. Splashed cold water on my face. Brushed my teeth. Gave my pulse a minute to slow down. But when I looked in the mirror, my cheeks were still flushed and my eyes remained feverishly bright.
It was the game, I told myself. It was the whole fantasy thing making the sex feel so intense.
It was the blindfold and the bondage and the bourbon and maybe even the massage. It wasn’t the words he said or the response they provoked in me. It was the roles we played. Not the feelings we shared.
When I felt certain I could mask my emotions well enough for the dark of his bedroom, I opened the door.
The candles had all been blown out, and one bedside lamp was on. Devlin, wearing his black pants again, was tucking a fresh sheet beneath one corner of the mattress. “Bottle of water is there on the nightstand for you. Thought I’d change the sheets so we didn’t have to sleep in a puddle of bourbon.”
“Thanks.” An involuntary shiver rattled through me, and I rubbed my arms.
“Are you still cold?” he asked. “Want something to sleep in?”
I had packed pajamas, but I wanted to sleep in something of his. “Sure.”
He went to his dresser and opened a drawer. Grinning, he pulled out a Camp Lemonade T-shirt and held it up. “How’s this?”
“Perfect.”
He slipped it over my head and watched me poke my arms through the sleeves. “Looks better on you. And I don’t say that lightly, because I look good in that shirt.”
I laughed. “Thank you.”
We climbed into bed, and Devlin switched off the lamp. I took a few sips of cool water before recapping the bottle and placing my head on the pillow. Both of us lay on our backs for a moment.
Then he rolled to his side. “Hey.”
“What?”
“I have to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“The guy who wants to interview me for that position in Santa Monica called. He wants to know if I can come out there week after next.”
“Oh.”
“Is that okay?”
“You don’t need to ask my permission, Devlin.”
“I’m asking anyway.”
“It’s fine.” My voice was papery thin.
He reached over and ran his fingertips up and down my arm. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not leaving for good. It’s just an interview.”
“It’s fine, Devlin.”
“You could come with me if you want.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining us strolling on the pier, eating dinners in cute little beachside restaurants, setting a hotel bed on fire at night. “I don’t really have time for a trip. Lots to do at home.”
“Okay.” He kept rubbing my arm. “I feel like something is wrong. Was that too much for you—being tied up like that?”
“No. It’s not that.”
“But there’s something?”
Yes, there was something. But I couldn’t admit it. I couldn’t deny it either, because even though the lights were off, Devlin no longer needed to see my face to take my temperature. He knew me too well. Maybe I could talk around it. Be truthful if not entirely honest.
“It was just something Jennifer said earlier,” I told him.
“What did she say?”
I took a breath. “Something about how you helped her family, so she was glad to help yours.”
“That’s what got to you?”
“Well, yes.” I bunched up the covers at my waist. “It hadn’t occurred to me before that people would look at you and me as a family. I know that sounds dumb, but the word just hit me hard.”
“Oh. I get it.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t think that’s dumb at all. You take the idea of family seriously.”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes. But I guess I’ve never really thought I’d have my own family, so maybe it’s different for me.”
I shifted to my side, facing him. In the dark, it was easier to be truthful. “Can I ask why you don’t want your own family? You like kids so much, and you’re so great with Sara. Seeing you with her today . . . it was really easy imagining you as a dad.”
He was silent for a moment. “Sometimes I imagine it too. But that’s as far as it goes.”
“How come?”
“I guess I just don’t like the idea of settling down. I like to keep moving, you know?”
“Stillness can be nice too.”
“I’ve never liked stillness, to be honest.”
“Why not?”