Chapter 7
ELIZABETH
Every inch of me aches. And the hot water pouring down over me isn’t helping like I thought it would.
I should have taken up Devon on his offer and made use of his soaker tub.
Over the course of a few hours I’ve discovered something about myself I never knew. I like tearing things down and imagining what they could look like when I rebuild them.
Thinking about making something from nothing or demolishing and remaking gives me a thrill I wish I’d had for just one other thing in my life up until now.
I don’t remember being this excited about anything since before Mom got sick. Before the courts tore me and my brother away from our grieving father and placed us in the care of an old man who rules with an iron fist. His way or the highway.
I hate that I’ve spent my whole adult life bowing to his demands.
Every aspect of my life has been dictated by a man I realize I don’t even like.
Turning under the shower, I moan as the warmth hits my shoulders. I’m definitely not used to physical activity of this kind. No doubt I’ll be regretting tonight’s choices in the morning.
Speaking of. I need to get out before I use up all the hot water and Devon has to take a cold shower.
I take one more turn beneath the spray, then flick the water off. Reaching for a towel, I discover the rack they’re on is heated. Wrapped in a warm towel, I step out of the shower enclosure and in front of the counter.
The pile of fresh clothes Devon gave me before I came in here sit neatly folded where I left them. The spare toothbrush, paste, comb, and hair dryer right beside them.
He thought of everything.
I didn’t even have to tell him I can’t go to bed with wet hair. It’s already going to be bad enough in the morning without my straightener. I can’t remember the last time I let my natural curls free.
In fact, I’m pretty sure the only person besides me who knows my hair is curly is my hairdresser.
Frowning, I pull a long strand away from my head. Even dripping wet the curl is noticeable. How easier would life be if I didn’t need to straighten it every morning?
Curls are messy. So unbecoming for a Foxworth.
Grandmother’s words echo in my head and my frown deepens. The memory is from years ago. I think I was nine and I’d bounced downstairs to breakfast so proud of myself for doing my own hair in two ponytails.
Is that when the molding began? It was only a few months after Mom died and we’d been forced to move out of our home and in with our grandparents.
Shaking my head, I clear those thoughts and focus on more immediate issues. Like how I’m going to explain running out on my wedding to my friends and family.
Not that I intended to explain myself to Grandfather yet. But Edward deserves answers. And Carlla. She’s been nothing but gracious with each and every change to the plan over the last few months.
Even allowing Peter’s mother to put her in a hideous bridesmaid’s dress. One more thing I let that woman control in what should have been one of the most significant days of my life.
A growl works its way up my throat and I let it free. The sound echoing off the tiled walls.
“Lizzi?” There’s a tap on the door. “Lizzi, everything okay?”
Anger surges up so fast it sucks the breath from my lungs. Stepping over, I twist the handle and yank the door open. “I’m a passenger in my own life.”
Devon doesn’t flinch. He just stands there, inches from me, and ignores the fact I yelled in his face.
“Why did I not see? How could I be so blind?”
“I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that most of the time our minds overlook things that will hurt us if we can live with them.” He shrugs. “It’s why people remain in situations that aren’t ideal. Better the devil you know.”
“No. That’s not it. I believed things about myself I should have known were lies.”
He studies me for a moment. His head tips slightly. “What about you is a lie?”
“I hate what I do for a job.”
“Have you told anyone besides me that?”
“No.”
“Then you haven’t lied.”
“My engagement was a lie.”
“Did you tell people you were madly in love with your fiancé?”
“I—”
“Did you have every intention of going through with the wedding until this morning?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see a lie there either.”
“But—” I shake my head. “Okay, not a lie so much as…false?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Both?” The uncertainty in my own voice has me growling again. “I don’t know!”
“I don’t think you’ve lied about who you are, Lizzi. I think you’ve hidden who you are because you didn’t feel safe exposing those parts of yourself.”
Every thought racing around my head stops. His words strike deep. Hit the part of me he seems to see with ease. “My hair is curly.”
The grin he gives me has my insides heating, my thighs tightening. “I can see that.”
“I’ve been straightening it since I was nine.”
“You don’t like it?” He reaches over and toys with the wet ends draped over my right shoulder. “I like it.”
“Wait until tomorrow. If I don’t dry it tonight, it will take on a life of its own.”
“I’m game if you are.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Who I am.”
“Yes, you do.”
“How can you say that? You don’t know me.” No one really knows me.
“I know enough for now.” He steps closer, brushes the wet hair off my shoulder. “And I’d like to know more.”
“What are you doing?”
“Something I probably shouldn’t.”
“What?”
“I’ll never do anything you don’t want, never make you or persuade you to do anything you don’t want.” Leaning down, he presses his lips to my damp shoulder. “I’d like to kiss more than this spot. If you’ll let me, I’ll kiss every inch of you, but for now I want to taste your mouth.”
Our eyes lock and I see desire swirling in his dark orbs. “I just ran out on my fiancé.”
“Who was getting his dick sucked by someone other than his fiancée.”
“I shouldn’t jump from one relationship to another.”
“Who said anything about a relationship?”
“That’s not—”
“For now, it’s a kiss. Let me kiss you, Lizzi.”
“Then what?”
“Does it matter right now?”
“It should.”
“I think you’ve lived your life by a lot of shoulds and where did that get you?” One hand lands on my towel covered hip, the other cradles my jaw. “Maybe the only should you need to worry about is doing what you want for once.”
I want to kiss Devon with more desire than anything I can remember.
“Do you want to kiss me, Lizzi?” His mouth hovers over mine.
Without conscious thought, I lick my lips. The tip of my tongue brushes his mouth and the grumble that vibrates in his throat has my core dampening.
“Lizzi?”
“Yes. Yes, I want to kiss you.”
The smile that stretches his mouth has pleasure flashing through me. “Then you should kiss me.”
I don’t know if I move or he does. Either way the result is the same. Devon’s mouth on mine. Mine pressed to his. It doesn’t matter. Not when his tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips and presses inside.
Fighting his invasion is the furthest thing from my mind. Instead I open for him. Invite him in and greet him with enthusiasm. Our tongues tangle and our arms lock around each other and I can’t remember ever feeling this free.
Our kiss is passionate, ravenous, and messy, and I can’t bring myself to care that I haven’t brushed my teeth since this morning.
Warmth and need rise from my core. Muscles tighten and clench, and breathing seems an afterthought to the one circling my head.
More.
All I can think is more.
More kisses.
More heat.
More flesh on flesh.
I’ve never been bold in bed. Always waited for my partners to initiate any sexual encounter but I don’t want to take a backseat here.
With Devon I want to ask, demand—take.
My hands dive beneath his t-shirt. One heads up his back, the other burrows under his waistband. Warm skin. Hard muscles. I want to feel them with more than my hands and fingers.
I want my lips on him. Everywhere.
I want his naked body pressed to mine.
I want him.
The need is sharp and jagged, and I can’t fight it. Can’t fight the sensations taking me over.
Yanking my head back, a demand I’ve never made bursts from my mouth. “Fuck me, Devon.”