In His Shadow (Tangled Ivy Book 1) (7 page)

Not that I really wanted to go home. As a matter of fact, I dreaded it. But the longer I was gone, the longer Mom was home alone with him.

He’d been drunk last night and things had been bad. The sounds through the thin walls of the house had made me cower underneath the covers in my bed, despite the oppressive heat of the house. I’d been afraid he’d come into my room, too, but he hadn’t for a change. Then I’d felt guilty for feeling relieved. I should help my mom, but I didn’t know how.

This morning there had been bruises on Mom’s face and her hands shook as she made breakfast, but her smile was as steady as ever for her only child. Then she’d calmly handed me some money and told me to go have fun in town for the afternoon.

“Don’t come home until dark, sweetie,” Mom had said. Then she’d kissed my cheek and hugged me long and hard.

The carnival had been fun. I’d bought a corndog and snow cone, and wandered around watching people play the games. At five, they’d started packing up to move on to the next town, so I’d gotten back on my bike and started the trek home.

I thought about going to see Logan, but remembered that he was out fishing with his dad today. His home was a refuge to which I often retreated. Logan was always ready with a joke and a smile. Maybe I could sneak over there tonight and we could lie on our backs in the field and watch the stars. We did that a lot. Staring up at the expansive Kansas sky had a way of making a person feel small, irrelevant, but in a good way.

Parking the bike in the yard, I hopped off and headed to the back door. When I was a few steps away, I stopped and sniffed. Something smelled. A sour odor that grew stronger with each step I took toward the house. Alarmed, I hurried to the door.

Placing my hand on the doorknob, I turned it, and then there was nothing at all.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

I
woke with a start, drenched in sweat, and sat straight up in bed. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe, as though I’d really been trapped in the fire of my nightmare.

I hadn’t dreamt about that day in a long while, though I knew what had brought it on. It had been seeing the body bags. They’d carried my mom’s body from our burned-out house, while telling me how lucky it was that I hadn’t been home.

No one seemed to know how my mom and stepdad had missed the smell of gas, but one spark had set the house ablaze, killing them both. I’d been blown clear with such force that it had knocked me out. When I’d woken, it was to see that flames had engulfed the place I’d called home, but in reality had been far from it.

Logan was the only one I told about how my mom had sent me away, how I was sure she’d done it on purpose, to save herself the only way she knew how.

And to save me.

Some days the guilt was enough to paralyze me.

Normally, I’d go crawl into bed with Logan when nightmares from my past visited me in the dead of night, but he’d already dealt with one crisis of mine today and he had to be up early for work in the morning.

Knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. A long, steaming shower would relax me, and maybe temporarily wash away the terrors of the past.

I piled my hair on top of my head and stepped under the hot spray, just this side of scalding. A sigh escaped me. I tried to clear my mind. I didn’t want to think about the past or remember the look on my mom’s face as she watched me from the porch as I pedaled away that fateful morning.

The next day, I’d gone to live with my grandparents.

I was crying without even realizing it, the water mixing with the tears sliding down my cheeks. So many memories and remembered horrors streamed through my mind, and overwhelming it all was a nearly crippling grief for my mother and guilt that she’d done what she had for me.

Hands on my shoulders made me gasp in fear. I spun around, terrified, only to be stunned into immobility. Devon was there with me, naked in the shower. Relief washed over me so fast, I thought I might pass out.

“Didn’t mean to give you a fright, luv.” His brows were creased as he studied me, his hands lifting to cradle my face, then he was kissing me. The long, hard length of his body pressed against mine and thoughts of the past fled.

I lifted my hands, resting them on his arms as his mouth moved to trail down my neck. The suits Devon wore hadn’t done justice to his body. His biceps were massive under my fingers, his shoulders wide and layered with muscle. Now that I could see him in the light, he took my breath away.

“Don’t think,” he murmured against the skin of my shoulder. “Just feel.”

I don’t know why it was easier to do this time, maybe because after what I’d been through today, his touch felt more like comfort than a threat, and I did as he said. His hand moved to slide between my thighs and my eyes drifted shut. His fingers slipped between my folds, his touch gentle but sure. I clutched at his shoulders as he stroked me, my eyes flying open when a thick finger pushed inside me.

Devon was watching me, the icy blue of his eyes penetrating my soul the way he was penetrating my body. His arm had moved to curve around my waist, supporting my weight as my suddenly weak knees threatened to collapse.

My heart raced, the steam from the water feeling almost cool against my overheated skin. I could feel the hard press of his erection against my hip, an answering flush of heat between my legs coating his fingers. Each thrust of his finger stroked my clit until I was panting with desire. My eyes slid shut as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.

“Open your eyes,” he said roughly. “Look at me.”

I obeyed, though it took effort, my nails digging into his skin. His eyes were darker now, the pupils wide.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, careful to enunciate each word.

I tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but all I could feel was what he was doing to me. His hand moved faster, the pressure building inside me until I was moaning.

I felt helpless to do anything but let him touch me, and I knew by the look in his eyes that there was nothing I could have said or done to stop him.

“Come for me, sweet Ivy,” he rasped.

Devon’s finger pressed hard and my whole body seemed to explode into a pulsing wave of pleasure. His mouth covered mine and I greedily opened my lips to kiss him. His tongue stroked mine, his hand still touching me in a way that made my legs tremble.

Lifting me, Devon shifted my legs around his waist and I clung to him. He turned off the water and carried me to my bed, still kissing me. His cock was hard as a rock and I whimpered, his size and length making me want him inside me, a feeling that was unknown to me before this moment. I didn’t give a thought to our wet skin dampening my sheets, my every sense locked on to him.

I felt his arm reach for the table next to my bed and he shifted slightly. Then he was settling between my legs and pushed inside me in one hard thrust. I gasped at the slight pain, jerking my mouth from his. Devon must have sensed my discomfort because, although he was settled deep inside me, he didn’t move.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing light kisses to my cheek and brow. “Just relax. Trust me.”

The words penetrated the panic that had begun to creep over me and I opened my eyes. He lifted his head to look at me, a hand brushing the hair back from my face.

“Better?” he asked softly.

I nodded, unable to speak. It was . . . overwhelming. The feel of him inside me—I’d expected to be afraid, panic-stricken, desperate to get away. But instead, I felt marked. Possessed. And it felt good. It felt . . . right.

Devon began to move, slowly pulling out of me, then pushing back in. I felt every inch of him. He watched my face closely, as though trying to detect any hint of fear or discomfort. I reached to twine my arms around his neck, my fingers sliding into his hair, and tugged him down to kiss me.

That must have sent the right signal because he groaned into my mouth, the sound making pleasure curl low in my belly. I locked my legs around him and his hands moved to my hips, his fingers digging in as he thrust harder. I held on, closing my eyes and losing myself in him.

It was Devon, taking me hard and fast, the strength of his body surrounding mine. He was big, his cock filling and stretching me, the head brushing against my womb with each thrust. But I didn’t mind the twinge of discomfort. The slight pain set fire to my senses, as though this was what my body was meant for—for Devon to possess.

The repeated slide of his cock against my clit pushed me over the edge again. Cries and gasps fell from my lips as my body intimately gripped the hard length of him, as if to hold him to me. But he didn’t stop. If anything, he moved harder and faster, pounding into me until he ground hard against my overly sensitive flesh, his cock emptying its load deep inside. He was quiet when he came, though his whole body shuddered in my arms and his breathing was labored. The feel of him pulsing inside me made me moan in response, tipping my hips upward as though to take him deeper than he already was.

His body was slick with water and sweat underneath my hands, the muscles bunched tightly as he held me to him. My heels dragged the backs of his thighs as I relaxed. Devon was breathing hard, his face buried in the crook between my neck and shoulder. His lips moved, caressing my shoulder before gently sucking on the tender skin under my jaw.

I was sorry to feel him move away from me, which he did too soon. The intimacy of the moment, Devon sliding out of me and turning away, struck me. I’d never liked being that intimate with anyone before. Not to where it was a good thing, something that made me feel warm inside.

Devon reached down and slid a condom off his penis, tying it off before tossing it into the small trash basket. Standing, he headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I heard the water running.

I sat halfway up, resting my weight on one elbow. Suddenly self-conscious, I reached down and tugged the sheet and blanket up over me, covering my nakedness. What would happen now? Would he leave? Would I ever see him again? The anxiety pressing on me, the sudden sharp
need
of him that I felt, took me by surprise.

The bathroom door opened and Devon stepped out. He was an impressive sight in his clothes—without them, he was just as formidable. A scattering of hair covered his broad chest, narrowing to a thin line below his navel. My eyes followed it down . . .

“Why are you covering yourself, darling?” he said, sitting on the bed. He made short work of pulling the covers off me. “Your body deserves to be admired.”

The endearment warmed me and I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said something like that to me before, complimented me on something so personal. Devon was so comfortable in his skin, as though not wearing clothes was as easy as being fully dressed.

He reached for my leg, raising it and resting it across his lap, spreading me wide open. I gasped sharply, heat flooding my cheeks. Devon just chuckled.

“A bit late for modesty,” he said. That’s when I saw the washcloth he held. He pressed it between my legs, gently cleaning me. “I thought you might be sore. This should help.”

The cloth was very hot and it did feel good against the parts of my body he’d just put to more use than they’d seen in ages. I was in awe of what had just happened. I’d actually had sex. And not just the crappy, embarrassing kind of sex I’d had before, but the mind-blowing, earth-moving kind with the most amazing specimen of a man I’d ever seen.

“So do you want to tell me?” he asked, his voice casual, intent on his task.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me who abused you.”

I stared at him, the blood draining from my face. He knew. Of course he did. He’d known the other night when he’d decided to leave. Which reminded me—

“I thought I was too broken for you?” I asked, more than a hint of bitterness in my voice. “That’s what you said the other night, right before you walked out. Why did you come back?”

Devon set aside the washcloth. When he turned back, he moved to lie beside me. I scrambled to put some space between us, but his arm hooked around my waist, drawing me back to him. He quickly had me pinned flat on my back, his leg between my thighs and his torso lying half on top of mine.

“I decided I didn’t give a damn,” he said, studying my face. His gaze followed the path of his fingers as he traced my brow, down the line of my nose to my lips, brushing across my cheek to my jaw. “I wanted you, and I thought you wanted me to.” He paused. “Was I wrong?”

The selfishness of his words was in stark contrast to the tender way he was touching me, the firm but gentle hold his body had on mine. I swallowed.

“No. But what if I’d been afraid?” I asked.

His eyes met mine. “But you weren’t, were you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” I finally said, the word barely more than a whisper. “And I don’t know why.”

“It’s because I saved your life today,” Devon said, “and now you trust me. In here.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to the valley between my breasts. “Though perhaps not up here.” His finger tapped lightly at my temple.

“I barely know you,” I said.

He smiled thinly. “You know me as well as anyone does.”

“But I—”

“Shh,” he hushed me, pressing his fingertips to my lips. “Go to sleep. I need rest, and so do you.”

“You’re staying?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

“You’d rather I go?” he asked, his brows rising.

“N-no, of course not,” I stammered. “I just thought you . . . would. That’s all.”

“I like the feel of a woman next to me,” Devon said matter-of-factly, settling himself beside me.

Reaching down, he tugged the covers up over us, then turned us on our sides. My back was pressed against his chest, my bottom cradled by his hips. His arm rested in the curve of my waist and his hand settled over my breast, his thumb brushing idly over the nipple.

It seemed I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, not that I was protesting. Devon was so large, I felt small next to him. Protected. It was natural for him to take control, easy for me to let him. He was almost absently caressing my body, as one would a pet.

Just before I drifted to sleep it struck me that he’d said he liked the feel of “a woman.” Did that mean any woman would do? And did I care if that answer was yes?