In His Shadow (Tangled Ivy Book 1) (21 page)

Even while my body still hummed with the glow of a mind-blowing orgasm, I wanted Devon, wanted him inside me. I reached for his belt, but he caught my hand.

“There’s no need,” he said, threading our fingers together.

I frowned. He was a man, and from what I could see of his erection through his slacks, he definitely had a “need.”

“But I want you,” I said, frowning in confusion.

“Do you?” he asked. “Or do you just think you should?”

It took me a moment to get it, and I had to marvel at his shrewdness. “Therapy through sex, Devon?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Making a joke of it made it less uncomfortable that he’d been almost too perceptive of the underlying issues I had with sex.

“Do I look like a therapist?” he deadpanned.

I smiled. “Then finish what you started,” I taunted him. “I want you.” This time when I reached for his belt, he didn’t stop me.

When he was as naked as I was, I stopped and took a minute to admire him. Scars, new and old, decorated his torso, the muscles underneath his warm skin rippling when he moved. His stomach was flat, the indentation between muscles begging for my touch. Narrow hips led to strong thighs and my eyes were drawn to his cock nestled between them. It was thick and hard, jutting out from his body in a way that made me weak in the knees with desire. His length would have been intimidating if I hadn’t already known how well we fit.

I didn’t think at all, I just settled over him as though I’d done this dozens of times before. I was wet from my own juices plus Devon’s mouth, so it was easy to slide his cock inside me. The twinge of my body as it expanded to accommodate him was familiar in a way that was comforting to me.

Bracing my hands on his chest, I lifted, letting him slide almost all the way out before lowering and taking him inside again. We both groaned. The wet friction against my clit made me suck in a breath, and gave me incentive to repeat my actions.

It felt freeing, to be the one to set the pace. I concentrated on achieving that peak of pleasure again, moving faster on Devon. His hands were on my hips, holding on or guiding me, I couldn’t tell and didn’t care.

“That’s right,” he encouraged through gritted teeth. “Get yourself off. Faster, luv.”

My thighs were trembling with the effort, our bodies slick with sweat, when Devon took over. His fingers pressed into my hips to hold me still, his body thrusting hard up into mine. So fast, the pounding against my clit was too much and I cried out as I came. A split second into my orgasm, Devon let out a shout, pulling me down hard on him as he thrust upward. The pulsing of his cock inside me matched the ripples of pleasure centered where we were joined and lights exploded behind my closed eyes.

My body was a limp rag doll as I crumpled to lie against his heaving chest, our bodies still connected. Sweat dotted my brow, but I didn’t care. I could no longer feel any pain from my body, the endorphins from two incredible orgasms driving the discomfort away.

I would have been happy to just roll over and go to sleep, but Devon had other ideas. I mewled in disappointment when he slid out of me and rolled me onto my back, then disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, I heard the tub filling.

The wet stickiness between my thighs made me smile. I was marked by him. Despite the tenuousness of our relationship, we were bound by blood and sex. An irrational part of me didn’t want to wash away the evidence of him on me, inside me. But I didn’t protest when he returned, lifted me in his arms, and carried me to the steaming bathwater.

“Where’s Logan?” Devon asked.

It was morning, and dusky sunlight filtered through heavy cloud cover to lighten the bedroom. I’d slept the sleep of the dead, curled in Devon’s arms.

“Mmmm,” I said, stretching out the kinks in my body. I arched my back and Devon took the opportunity to skate a hand up my side to cup my breast. “He’s out of town with a friend, skiing.” If I could have, I would have purred at his touch.

“How did you meet him?”

It took a moment for my sleepy brain to focus on the question. “We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said. “Since we were children.” I left out the part where Logan used to be my refuge after a visit from Jace.

“A man and woman living together, just as friends. You don’t see it very often,” Devon mused.

I shrugged. “It works for us.” Devon’s fingers were working their magic again, brushing my nipples in a teasing seduction that made it hard to concentrate on the conversation.

“Does it?” he asked.

But I wasn’t paying much attention. “If you don’t stop that, we’re never going to get out of this bed,” I complained.

Devon suddenly flipped me onto my back, pinning my arms above my head as he crouched over me.

“And you have a problem with that?” he asked.

The lust in his eyes made my heart skip a beat and my mouth go dry even as a warm rush of heat flooded the flesh between my thighs.

“Not really,” I breathed, my gaze dropping to his mouth.

Which was why it was another half hour or more before I did finally climb out of bed.

It was Saturday, and thanks to Devon, I was feeling pretty darn good. Not only physically, but it made me happier than I wanted to think about, having him here with me.

I dressed in a pair of jeans and a black, oversized, thin cotton shirt with long sleeves. Not bothering with a bra, I brushed my hair until it shone a pure white gold and hung perfectly straight down my back. Devon had dressed as well and was in the kitchen when I emerged from the bedroom.

“What do you eat?” he asked, surveying the contents of the refrigerator. “There’s nothing in your icebox.”

“We eat out a lot,” I said. “Or Logan cooks. When he’s out of town, I order takeout.” Cooking wasn’t my thing. Granted, I liked to eat—who didn’t?—but cooking bored me. Combined with my penchant for spending too much money on clothes plus my distaste of generally all things domestic . . . well, let’s just say that someday I’d make a terrible wife.

“You don’t cook?” he asked.

I wrinkled my nose and gave a small shake of my head. “But I can rock a pair of skinny jeans and four-inch heels like nobody’s business,” I said, poking him lightly in the chest.

“I’ll bet you can,” he said, his lips tipping upward in the hint of a smile.

“Want to go out?” I asked. “Or we can order pizza or something.” Even as I said it, though, Devon didn’t strike me as a pizza kind of guy, so I wasn’t surprised when he was shaking his head before the words were even out of my mouth.

“Put your heels on,” he said. “I’ll buy you dinner.”

No need to tell me twice. I dug out a favorite pair of nude platforms that were perfectly conservative, until you saw the wickedly tall and sharp stiletto heel. Before long, I was walking those heels into another very nice, and very expensive, restaurant. The maître d’ took
our coats and I felt the warmth of Devon’s hand on the small of my back as we followed him to a table.

Devon sat across from me, his back to the wall, and once the waiter had come by to get our drink order, he settled back in his chair. His gaze rested on me, a smile playing about his mouth.

I looked at him as I opened the menu, my brow creasing in a frown as I smiled tentatively back. “What?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asked innocently.

I rolled my eyes. “Like that.”

Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned forward as though he were going to tell me a secret. “I like to watch you,” he said.

Okay, that was an odd thing to say. “What do you mean?”

“The way you carry yourself. The way you walk,” he said. “It’s what first drew my eye. You’re beautiful, and you know it. You carry yourself with confidence and have a charisma about you. It’s . . . mesmerizing. Intoxicating.” He reached for my hand with both of his, lifting my arm to press his lips to my palm, then my wrist. “Addicting.” The brush of his lips and breath made my pulse speed up.

It felt as though the air had been frozen in my lungs and I couldn’t think what to say. I’d always been pretty, but it was something I’d just dealt with and taken for granted. It was the way I’d been born, like being left-handed or tone-deaf.

Devon released me and I could breathe again, my skin tingled from where he’d touched me. I struggled to get my bearings, though the gleam in his eyes said he knew exactly what he could do to me.

“So are you really leaving town?” I asked once the waiter had brought and uncorked a bottle of wine. Devon had again ordered for me.

He nodded. “The man I’m looking for, the one who trapped us, has what he’s after or is very close to it. I intend to stop him.”

My gaze dropped and I took a sip of the red wine. He was leaving. And just like that, my good mood was gone.

“Do you . . . need any company?” Maybe he’d take me with him?

“I nearly got you killed,” Devon said, “and I still don’t know why they let us go. Taking you with me would be a mistake.”

“Do you think you’ll be back?” I asked, taking a different tack and carefully making my voice as nonchalant as possible. I studied my fingers playing with the stem of my wineglass to avoid looking him in the eye.

“Ivy.”

I didn’t look up.

“Ivy,” he repeated. The tone of his voice was such that I had to obey and reluctantly lifted my gaze to meet his. “I’m afraid not,” he said gently.

I felt that blow down to my bones, like a sucker punch out of nowhere. I gave a jerky nod.

“Of course not,” I mumbled. “Why would you?” I took a large gulp of wine.

“You don’t like me, remember?” he said, a teasing note in his voice that told me he was trying to make things a little easier on me.

Pride came to my defense. I had not, nor would I ever, cry and moon over a man who didn’t want me.

“It’s fine,” I said a little too brightly. “Let’s just have dinner, shall we?”

Our food arrived, but I barely tasted anything and only picked at it. Somehow I didn’t feel much like making small talk.

“So your boss is a lady,” I said after a while. “Vega is her name?” That last part was a guess. She hadn’t introduced herself to me at the hospital, but that was the name Clive had said.

Devon’s gaze met mine as he took a bite of beef from the tines of his fork. He chewed while I waited, then he took a sip of wine before answering.

“Why would you say that?” he asked.

“Because she came to see me.”

My blunt response must have taken him off guard because his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. A major reaction, coming from him.

Setting aside his napkin, he nodded at the waiter, who removed the empty plate. Resting his elbows on the table, his hands steepled beneath his chin, he asked, “And when was this?”

“While I was in the hospital,” I answered. “She seemed very concerned that I’d said something I shouldn’t, or that perhaps you had.”

“How long was she there?”

“Not long.” I frowned, just then realizing something. “Was she not supposed to know about me?”

Devon shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter.”

Those words reverberated inside my head.
It doesn’t really matter.
In other words, I didn’t really matter, because I wouldn’t be in the picture for long.

What the hell was I doing? Putting life and limb in jeopardy, alienating my best friend, all for a man who was good in bed? I must’ve lost my mind. Sweet Jesus, I was nothing but a vagina on legs to him, whereas he had become my whole world. Would I fall a
part without him?

I was up and out of my chair in an instant, grabbed my coat in the next, and was out the door. The cold hit me like a slap in the face and I shrugged on my coat while I hurried down the sidewalk.

“So stupid,” I muttered to myself, jerking the heavy wool closer to my body. There were a few people on the sidewalk, some going the same direction I was and some the opposite way. I avoided them all.

“Ivy, wait!”

I heard Devon’s voice, but just walked faster, hoping to lose myself among the people, but there just weren’t enough to hide me.

In a way, I was surprised he’d come after me. If I meant so little to him, what did it matter who owned the vagina he put his dick in?

“Ivy!”

His voice was closer and I still ignored him, my heels
click-clacking
on the sidewalk that someone had thoughtfully cleared of snow.

Devon’s hand gripped my upper arm, yanking me to a halt before spinning me around to face him.

“Don’t just walk away from me,” he said, his tone dangerously even. “We’re not through, you and I.”

“Oh yes we are,” I retorted, trying unsuccessfully to pull my arm away. “You don’t give a shit about me. Find some other girl to fuck, Devon.”

Grabbing my other arm, he jerked me close, our bodies colliding. I tipped my head backward to look at him, anger giving me courage against the ice in his eyes. Gritting my teeth, I struggled in his hold, but it was useless. In seconds, he had me pinned against a wall.

“But I don’t want to fuck another girl,” he said, his lips by my ear. “I want to fuck you.”

The words slithered into my ear and I shivered at the warmth of his breath. My body was already betraying me, my breasts full and nipples hardened into sensitive peaks, waiting for his touch. The flesh between my legs began to throb.