Chapter 19 Tempting Hell #2
“We are back in business. Or we will be soon. Guests have started to wander back outside for late afternoon activities. Rob is more than shaken, but I’m not sure if it’s from someone getting shot or hitting Ms. Madison in the head with a tennis ball.
He came to tears while hosing the blood from the court. ”
“Assure Rob that Ms. Madison is fine. He saved her life. He should be happy.” That turns in my stomach like a bag of rocks since I could’ve done more to save her myself. “Do you need anything from me?”
“No, sir. I have two hours before my shift ends. I just hope that poor man doesn’t take a trip to my old employer. That would be a shame.”
“Yes, for so many reasons. I appreciate you stepping up again. I have interviews set up next week for a property manager, but I also need to replace Marsha. Would you be interested in the event coordinator position?”
Felicity gasps. “Really? Mr. Donnelly, I didn’t expect to ever be offered anything more than the front desk.
But there isn’t much difference between organizing a funeral compared to a party.
I’ll do it—that is if you’ll hire me. And I’m happily married.
You don’t need to worry about me and the pool boy. ”
The last thing I want in my head are thoughts of Felicity and a pool boy. “I know you wouldn’t. Let’s make time to talk tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Donnelly. Taking a job with you has been the best thing ever—this shooting notwithstanding. It’s way better than working for the mortuary.”
“That’s a low bar, but I guess I’ll take it. Call me if you need me. I’ll be in my suite.”
I hear the pep in her step. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got it all under control.”
Since there’s no way I’m leaving Harlow right now, I’m counting on it.
My bedroom is dim with barely any light filtering through the corners of the curtains. Harlow’s on her side fisting the covers over her bare tits. Her eyes are closed, and I thought she was asleep until she calls for me while I’m on my way to the closet.
“Dev?”
Dev.
She’s never called me that before.
Just Dev. Soft and sweet—even if she did exhale it on an exhausted breath. Hell, I would’ve been happy had she growled my name in two angry syllables.
I move to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. “I thought you were asleep. Do you need anything? Are you hungry?”
She stares up at me with hesitant eyes. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re a lot of things, baby. Strong and resilient one moment, and so damn vulnerable the next. Yet, you’re never na?ve about it. There’s something about you...”
I let my words trail off, and she doesn’t hesitate to try to put words in my mouth, and guesses, “That makes you pull your hair out?”
I shake my head. “No, baby. It makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and lay waste to anyone who wants to hurt you. I want to pave the way for you, but you seemed to be doing a pretty damn good job of it before today. And when you won’t listen to me, I want to tan your ass.”
Her eyes widen. “I’d say no offense, but I say this with complete and utter offense—had you told me the truth rather than being a bossy arsehole, I would have listened to you.”
I tip my head and study the practically naked beauty in my bed. “Your headache must be letting up. Your spirit is back. I like it.”
She sighs. “You would like it.”
“I’m not good at this.” I motion back and forth between us. “I should’ve told you why I didn’t want you near him.”
“Don’t ever do that again,” she warns. “Protecting me from the truth is not protecting me. I need honesty like my life depends on it. Promise me you won’t do it again.”
“I promise, baby.” My gaze wanders to her bare back, and I drag my fingertips down her spine.
Her skin is pink where I had her against the wall last night.
Seeing her raw skin and knowing I did that makes me want to punch myself in the gut while the blood rushes to my dick.
I’m a complicated fucker. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. That will never happen again.”
She keeps the covers fisted at her tits. “What exactly isn’t going to happen again?”
I lean down to press my lips to hers, wrap my hand around the side of her neck, and stay close when I promise, “Hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”
Her fingers wrap around my wrist to hold me there. “I don’t know why I believe you, but I do. And I’m not in the position to believe anyone. What’s wrong with me?”
I shake my head and lean in to press my lips lightly on her forehead before sitting up. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You found yourself in the middle of a fucked-up shitshow. You’re a target because of who you were born to. That’s not your fault.”
She pulls in a deep breath, and there’s a tremble to her voice. She sounds more vulnerable than she is lying under the covers almost naked. “I miss my mom. I’m not sure I’ve ever missed her more. And that’s saying something since I had to go through years of therapy after she died.”
I let my gaze study every tortured feature set in her beautiful face. I can’t take it.
I stand and shrug my shirt down my arms.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry? I can get the kitchen to whip up some leftovers.” I toe my loafers off and kick them to the side as I unbutton my trousers.
She narrows her eyes. “Very funny. I just told you something personal, and you make fun of me not wanting to waste food?”
I push my pants to the ground and reach for my socks. “I’m being dead serious. If you’re not hungry, move over.”
She doesn’t move. “But this is my side of the bed.”
I yank the covers from her grip. She yelps, but I don’t stop and climb over her. “We’ve slept together once and you slept in the middle. You don’t have a side of the bed.”
She watches me settle on the other side of the middle and pull the covers over us. “We have plenty of time to order food before the kitchen closes for the night.”
“True. It’s a good thing you’re sleeping with the owner.
If you wake up in the middle of the night hungry, I’ll raid the kitchen for you.
” I stuff a pillow under my head and wrap a hand around her bare hip to pull her to me.
Her fingers trail down my neck, land on my pecs, and she settles her head on my bicep.
“What are we doing, Devon?”
I run my hand down her spine, the small of her back, until I hit the band of her thong and tuck my fingers beneath it.
“You saved yourself from your fiancé. You were shot at. And you miss your mum. To top that off, you hooked up with an arsehole who is shit at relationships. You’re in survival mode, and I’m here to make you forget about everything and make you feel better. ”
Her dark eyes glass over. “Do you always talk about yourself in the third person?”
I brush the hair from her face, pull her to my chest, and stare into the darkened room over her soft blond hair. “Only the arsehole part of me. I don’t claim him often, but I will today. I’ll do better.”
She presses into me. Her soft tits are plastered against my chest and her thumb brushes my scarred shoulder, back and forth like she’s obsessed with it.
“I’ll get to the bottom of what happened today, baby. And when I find out who put you in their crosshairs, I’ll take them down. I promise you.”
She says nothing, but I feel her emotion when her tears wet the skin of my neck.
Fuck. This woman may do me in.
I drag my hand down the back of her leg until I catch it behind her knee to pull it over my hip. My cock is pressed to her sex and the only thing separating us are her tiny panties and my boxers.
“Devon?”
“Right here, baby.”
Her voice turns hesitant. “The wall sex didn’t hurt me.”
I lean back enough to look down at her and hike a brow. “You like that.”
“A lot.” She snuggles her face back into my neck. “So sometime during our contractual agreement, we can do that again.”
“Upon request, wall sex is added back to the list.” I murmur against her head. “Best thing I ever did was fire your bridal assistant. Try to sleep. I’ll do everything in my power to make this better.”
She shifts in my arms enough to press her lips to my collarbone. “It can’t get much worse right?”
I run my fingers through her hair, but don’t agree. At this rate, I’m not tempting hell.