Page 66 of Manors & Mischief

I begin my one-woman army against dust. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to rest again if there’s a single speck of it around. This second floor has an infestation of it. Even covering the sheets protecting the furniture.

I walk to the dresser, peering into the mirror. I take out the Windex from my tool caddy and spray it like I’m a lone ranger gunman before wiping it with some newspaper I have rolled up. It will be a full-time job taking care of this place. Let’s just hope I can make it that far with now having to pay a hefty fine. This house deserves to be lived in and loved. Plus, I’ll have to do something else for money if I want to care for it full-time. Maybe the haunted stays like Bea suggested. The Ball and Children’s Haunted House will be amazing, but I doubt it will leave me with money to last an entire year.

I wipe the mirror in front of me, circling my hand across the glass to reveal my reflection. Hairs have come out from behind my handkerchief, framing my face. I’m dewy with sweat that has dried on my skin like a shiny mask, but the thing I notice most is how flush I am. I could label it exhaustion, but that’s not totally accurate.

My body responded more fiery than normal when Devon hugged me from behind. I could almost feel the coarse scruff on his face. Or maybe I’m just attention starved.

His personal brand of grumpiness toward me has finally tamed and morphed into something much more overwhelming.

Whatever it is, there’s this cord between us that seems to pull tighter and tighter when he’s around. From the way he acted in the kitchen for our first kiss to the moment on the couch, I know he feels the pull too. Even the memory makes my nipples poke through my shirt, and I nearly roll my eyes at myself. There’s not much I can do about any of this need stoking inside me like a sputtering fireplace.

Maybe I’ll grab one of my spicy books tonight and read before bed. On second thought, that just might make it worse because undoubtedly, I’ll picture the lead as an older, more mature man. I don’t think I’ve ever read an age gap book, but it’s definitely time.

No. That’s not wise. The point is…

I’m not sure what the point is. I think I’m trying to talk myself into satisfying the curl of heat low in my stomach without the cure having anything to do with Devon Lachey. I just don’t know if it’s wise to jump into anything headfirst.

“You’ve wiped that mirror about a dozen times.”

The scream that curdles out of me comes from deep in my chest, wrenched from me like a ghost just passed through my body from behind and yanked it to the outside. I spin, facing a concerned looking Devon leaning against the door jamb.

I rub my sternum. “Jesus.”

“I’m sorry. The stairs creaked on every step, so I thought you heard me. Obviously, you were distracted.”

He peers down at my nipples, which are still hard. Shit. Did he see me peer at them through the mirror? This sports bra covers nothing. “Sorry, I was lost in my own thoughts.” Thoughts about wanting to jump you and talking myself out of it.

His gaze roams down my body. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Why do I get the feeling that’s only an excuse for wanting to see me?

Because every time we come together it’s electric. Right.

Because there’s this pull for us to be near each other. Check.

Because he’s ungodly handsome and I haven’t been touched in a while. Check three and check four.

Our gazes lock for too long. Tension curls in my belly again, so I pull out my shirt a couple of times to relieve the heat. “Is it hot in here? I should open a window.”

Without waiting for an answer, I go to the large window on the exterior wall of the house. I turn the lock and lift, trying to make it budge. It doesn’t. Just like every other window in the house, it protests. Sort of like Devon. It’s a little moody at first. You just have to give it enough oomph.

“Let me help,” Devon says, cornering me against the window. His body barricades me in. He uses his fist to bang around all sides of the frame then pushes up on the top while I use the bronzed handle on the bottom. It finally breaks loose, releasing with a quick woosh, followed by a grateful burst of cool air against my heated flesh. “Better?” he asks, and I swear his lips are right by my ear, a reminder from the sleepover with Bea. I can feel his hot breath, enticing against my sensitive skin.

I stop myself from moaning, my hands gripping the windowsill to anchor me. “Better.”

I go to turn around but he steps closer, making it impossible. “Not yet.”

“W-why?” I try to find his reflection in the glass, but it’s so spotted and weathered that I can only see the tangle of beauty that is the side yard and beyond toward the well. A true nature’s paradise that’s taken over.

“Because if you turn around with those straining nipples aimed at me again, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

My mouth goes dry. “That’s…bold.”

“It’s called maturity. I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“Devon…”

“We need to set some boundaries, maybe,” he says. “Talk about what’s going on between us and where to take things next.”