Page 42 of Hope and Country

She tasted the sauce next, and my hand cupped her face, careful not to press on her fading bruises. With my thumb, I wiped the sauce off her lips. Devon licked the tip of my finger before bursting into a fit of laughter.

I sucked in a breath. No way she did that. Didn’t she know how bad it was for my willpower to have her mouth on any part of my body, fingertips included?

Now I was the one at risk of dying from unachieved orgasm and repressed desire if she ever attempted that again. Devon was playing a very dangerous game.

My eyes trained on the tilt of her lips—one of the small details that had fascinated me the night we met—for longer than required. But I couldn’t help myself. And I wondered how they would taste if I sampled them. Because the idea had been haunting me for the last year. And a year was a fucking long time yearning for someone.

My body hummed at Devon’s sight.

My brain turned into jelly while she stared at me with her gray-blue eyes as if I could do no wrong.

An uncomfortable tension spread inside me, playing with the flimsy restraints I still possessed.

Air shot back to my head, oxygenating my unable-to-think-clearly brain.

Some of my sanity returned at full force, and I backed from the woman looking way too beautiful and irresistible for my own good right now, cooking in my kitchen like she’d been doing it for years. Damn, I had no right to fantasize about her. Not here. Not now. This wasn’t what our relationship—no, not relationship, but living situation—was about.

With a shake of my head, I flushed my dirty thoughts as far down as possible.

The air surrounding us suffocated me. Could Devon feel it too? Could she sense how bad my entire being reacted to her presence? Her closeness? Her charm?

My tongue darted out, moisturizing my dried lips.

Devon glanced at me with a grin. It ruined another piece of my control.

All the sensations I’d felt that night and been haunted by for an entire year revisited me.

My eyes zoomed in on hers.

Just a tilt of my head and my lips would meet hers.

Panic settled deep at my core.

Walk away, man. Walk away.

For once, the voices in my head didn’t sound irrational. They were the words of reason.

Pushing down the lump lodged in my throat, I stepped back, wishing I could rupture the link connecting my heart to my dick.

“Gimme a minute. I’ll go change and get us wine.” I moved to leave the room but pivoted on my heels before I could analyze my actions, curled a hand behind Devon’s head, and pulled her close, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head. “I’ll be right back.”

Her scent crushed me.

The simple touch of her calmed a storm in my mind but triggered another one in my heart. Damn it.

On my way to my bedroom, I fisted my hair with both hands.

“What the fuck, man. Don’t be stupid,” I said to myself as I changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “Stop being stupid and stay put,” I ordered my dick as I zipped my pants. In front of the mirror of my walk-in closet, I fixed my hair. “Don’t be an ass. Get a grip over yourself. Now,” I ordered my reflection and sighed. “When you play with fire, you get burned.”

Yeah, don’t be an idiot.

17

DEVON

Was I dreaming, or did Riley look at me like I was the one he should get a taste of instead of the pesto sauce I made? The heat in his eyes reminded me of the spark I noticed the night we met. And was so powerful it glued me to the floor. I probably forgot how to breathe for a minute or two.

When his palm connected with my cheek, I believed I’d melt. Right there. And in some way, I wanted to. It made no sense. Even to me.