Chapter 23
Day Eleven
You deserve some rest. I won’t be gone long.
-Trailer Daddy (I’m never giving this up.)
I could get used to it.
-Devon
-Notes on the whiteboard, August 31st
Devon
My morning starts with two new experiences. One, I do something Rhett told me to do, without having a mental battle over it first. Two, I rest completely. I don’t go for a run. I don’t go out to the reception rock to check my texts or my voicemails, even though Nathalie from Live Your Best Life in Palm Springs left me one a couple days ago that I haven’t had a chance to check yet. Her blog feature on local women entrepreneurs doesn’t come out until late next week. It can wait.
I don’t even know what time it is.
Instead, I’m curled up on the daybed outside, wearing the clothes I slept in last night, my satin pajama shorts and Rhett’s Banjo’s BBQ t-shirt, drinking coffee I didn’t have to brew, tucked under a blanket I don’t intend to fold when I get up. Okay, that part isn’t true. I’ll still fold the blanket. I’m not a monster.
I must fall asleep because I wake up to Rhett’s weight shifting the daybed. “Devon Blake, you took a nap.”
I smile up at my pink-flamingo purgatory companion. “I think I did.”
“Has that ever happened before?”
I consider the question. “Not that I recall.”
“You’re a really cute sleeper,” he says, brushing the hair off my forehead. Heat rushes to my cheeks, the foreign sensation surprising us both. Cute’s not a word I hear used to describe me. Aside from the usual comments about my somewhat bristly demeanor, men usually tell me I’m sexy, or hot, or if they’re feeling particularly creepy, a tall drink of water. Cute has an endearing connotation I’m not accustomed to. “Do you want to keep napping?” he asks.
I check my watch, sitting up. I’ve already wasted the entire morning. But lying here in the shade was so nice. He leans back into the over-stuffed pillows next to me, stretching his long legs out in front of us, his hips pressed up against mine. That’s nice too. When I look back at him, he’s lounging behind me, eyes closed, head leaning back on his folded arms, unconcerned with my response.
His muscled chest provides a more inviting prospect than any of my other options, so I decide to stay, lying down to rest my head on it and wrap my leg over his hips. He makes a satisfied rumble that I would have missed if not for our current position, and drapes one of his arms around my back.
“I don’t think I can fall asleep again,” I tell him.
“We don’t have to sleep,” he says, “But it’s nice to lie here like this.”
We fall into the kind of easy quiet I’ve only experienced with my closest friends, and I get the sense he won’t push me to talk, even though we both know we need to. Closing my eyes, I listen to the steady beat of his heart as he moves his fingers in a faint path across my lower back.
When I said just one night, I only imagined sex. But I should have known better. Everything between us is enhanced now, like the connection we have is shining brighter in the light of day. A connection I can’t deny anymore. I’ve always been drawn to him, which is precisely why I wouldn’t date him. A rejection from Rhett could, no, would destroy me. I couldn’t afford to give in to the attraction, but I did it anyway, and I have no idea where to go from here.
Eventually, I’m the one to break the silence. “Was yesterday as tiring for you as it was for me?”
His response is unhurried, thoughtful. “I doubt it. I tend to enjoy groups of people, and I don’t get the sense that’s your thing.”
That’s not something I would have expected him to notice, but it warms my heart that he did. “Not really.” I hear the words and realize how it must sound. “Allie, Bea, and Sadie are the exception to that rule most of the time, and honestly, I don’t even mind Luke. I think it was just everything all at once.”
“From what I’ve heard, you’re long overdue for some quality rest. Maybe you’re crashing a little bit now.” He pauses, tentative. “You need some more alone time?”
“No,” I answer too quickly. Too eagerly. Being around him doesn’t drain me. Not at all. I noticed it yesterday when everyone else left and I didn’t feel like I needed to get away from him. And then again this morning when I was disappointed to find he went to the house without me. The idea is equal parts comforting and unsettling.
He laughs, low and easy, rocking his chest under my cheek. “Allie told me something yesterday that I’ve been dying to ask you about.”
Could be anything.“I’m not making any promises.”
“She said you dated one of your professors in college.”
Pressing my hand lightly into the center of his chest, I sit up. At the contact, he opens his eyes, mouth spreading into a wide smile.
“How did that come up?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, being a little too obvious that it does matter.
I tilt my head, considering, but decide to let him off the hook. “What do you want to know?”
“You’re going to tell me?” he asks, face lighting up like a child who’s getting a second helping of dessert.
“Sure, why not?” I shrug.
Rhett braces me with a hand on my back as he sits up and settles me into a seated position next to him. “What was his name? How old was he? How old were you? How did he talk you into it?”
I laugh at his eagerness. He really has been dying to ask. “Ted Winters. Well, Theodore Winters, but I called him Ted.”
“Sounds like a weasel.” His lip curls in disgust, but I get the feeling he would have had the same reaction no matter what the name was.
“He was,” I admit. It’s been years since I thought about Ted, even longer since I talked about it. What compelled Allie to bring him up? “He taught a business class I took my junior year. I ran into him downtown one night late in the semester, and we started talking outside of class that way. We dated a little over a year, and he broke it off a month before graduation.”
“You skipped how old he was.” Rhett says, jaw clenched.
“He was thirty-two. So, young to be a professor, but still shouldn’t have been dating a twenty-one-year-old student.” I’m only twenty-eight now, and I cannot imagine dating a college student.
“What was the appeal?” Rhett asks in lieu of the what were you thinking reprimand I’ve come to expect when I share this story.
“He was,” I let go of a long exhale, then start over. “I thought Ted was a way to skip over the immaturity of being young. He had his own place with custom art and exposed brick walls. It felt leaps and bounds more grown-up than student apartments with four guys piled into two bedrooms.”
Rhett’s look is pensive, and when he doesn’t pry further it makes me want to share more. I swallow thickly. “He would listen to me talk for hours, tell me how original and unique my ideas were, made me feel like a burgeoning little philosopher. He would tell me I was the most special woman he’d ever known, laid on the compliments thick and, being so young, I ate it up. But he also never challenged me to do more, never wanted to hear about my ideas for starting my own business and would get frustrated whenever I let him see how competent I was without him. It took a long time after he broke up with me to realize it was because he didn’t want me to actually grow up.”
“Definitely a weasel,” Rhett says, leaving out any condemnation for me and lightening the moment just a touch.
The next part is more painful to dig up, but it’s the most relevant bit for Rhett to know, so I take a deep breath and continue. “My experience with Ted is what brought me around to taking on my mom’s rule of no dating in the industry. There was no avoiding him. He wasn’t my professor anymore, but I took classes in his building. I had to see him all the time if I wanted to get my work done. Allie and Sadie practically had to drag me to graduation because I wanted so badly to avoid him.” Rhett’s eyes light with understanding, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I couldn’t separate him from school, which was my job at the time.”
Ted was the last man who I allowed to get close enough, become important enough to hurt me. Looking into Rhett’s gray eyes, it’s hard not to wonder if he’ll be the next and even harder not to hope that he won’t be.
“Your mom’s rule?” he asks, moving on from Ted, which I’m overwhelmingly grateful for. “I thought it was a Devon Blake rule, but if I could just call her up and ask permission—” he lets his voice trail off with a teasing smirk.
I push against his chest. “It is now, but I picked it up from her. She’s always said her relationship with my dad works because they have their own lives. She’s an architect. He’s a sports journalist. They never cross paths professionally, and rarely ever personally for that matter.” The final observation is one that I probably should have kept to myself, but he handled the Ted thing so well, maybe it won’t hurt to talk about my family too.
Most of the time Rhett teases me, flirts with me, prods me with questions. But right now, he’s listening patiently, giving me time in between sentences to process. “For my parents, I think it’s more a case of a convenient excuse for how little time they spend together. They met after both of their careers started, though. I sometimes wonder what experience my mom had before that made her so passionate about keeping work and personal lives separate. I’ve never seen anything resembling passion when she talks about my dad.”
He considers that, too, quiet for a while longer before he asks. “Are you close with your parents?”
“My mom, definitely.” My lips pull into a smile at the idea of her. “She was invested in my success from a very young age. She owns her architecture firm, and she taught me lots of lessons about running a business, and specifically being a woman who runs a business. When I met Allie in middle school, Mom started teaching her things too. I honestly believe my mom is a big part of the reason Allie decided to start her own company.”
Rhett’s smile grows as I give him more details about my mom, how accomplished she is, how much I admire her and want to be like her, and how much she supports me.
He brushes his sun-streaked hair out of his eyes, saying, “I grew up with strong women too.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” I draw my knees up and lean against the cushions. “Tell me about them.”
He laughs, bursting with pride as he describes his family, pulling up photos on his phone of each of his siblings and their kids. “My two older sisters were attached at the hip, and they used to dress me up and boss me around whenever my brother wasn’t there to harass. That’s Casey.” He points to a brunette woman with three children piled around her on a sofa. “The oldest. Smart as a whip, and she always talked the rest of us kids into acting out her schemes. “Lori’s the one next to me here.” He shows a picture from a wedding, and I almost miss the tall, smiley woman he’s referencing at the sight of him in a suit. “We’re closest in age. She has a soft heart, but Casey never let anyone take advantage of it. They always had my back too. Now, they’re both moms, and they’re badasses at it just like our mom is.” He pulls up a picture with at least twenty people in it, all wearing matching Christmas pajamas and zooms in on a shorter gray-haired woman in the center. “She’s tiny and mighty, a fierce protector of anyone she loves, which is just about everyone.”
I have the thought that I’d like to meet them, but I keep it to myself, instead encouraging him to share more. He tells me stories from his childhood, places they’d sneak into, times they got caught, times they didn’t, about the way his siblings helped him hide it from his parents the first time he got drunk, but he had to wash their cars all summer. It all slots into place, framing the understanding I have of Rhett. It makes sense that he comes from a boisterous and loving family.
He’s scrolling through his phone, showing me pictures of his family from special events and holidays when a picture of him with his arm around a woman who I now know isn’t either of his sisters pops up. He’s quick to scroll away, but I still ask who she is even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.
“That’s Crystal, my ex,” he answers, setting his phone down on the daybed.
Immediately, I’m irrationally jealous. I should drop it, but morbid curiosity wins out. “You don’t talk about her much.”
“Not much to say anymore.” He shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “But I’m an open book if you have questions.”
If I have questions. All I have are questions. Can I see that photo again? She didn’t look much like me. Is she actually your type? Did you love her? Do you still love her? Why did you want to marry her? Do you want her back? I roll each question over, landing on one that’s less likely to hurt my feelings. “How long were you together?”
“About two years,” he answers, offering no other details.
“When did you break up?”
“Just before Christmas.”
That wasn’t very long ago.“That was right before you moved out here, wasn’t it?”
He shifts his weight, turning his body so he’s facing me more directly. “Yeah, the breakup is a big part of how I ended up here actually.”
“Why did you break up with her?” I ask.
He makes a sound between a laugh and scoff. “She broke up with me.” My shock must show on my face because he runs a knuckle underneath my jaw, saying, “I appreciate how unbelievable you seem to find that information.”
“Well, it’s ridiculous. You’re so—” I take a breath. “What reason could she possibly—” I let my words trail off when I realize how close I am to admitting my feelings for him.
Rhett’s lips pull tight before he lets out a sigh, seeming reluctant to give me an answer. “After I quit my job, she said it wasn’t realistic to expect her to be with someone like me, who gives up on his responsibilities.”
“Oh, fuck,” my words come out on a whisper. Didn’t I say almost exactly that to him two nights ago? Fuck. I told him he was irresponsible and too scared to take risks. Rhett watches me with an unreadable look on his face. It’s unlike me to be at a loss for words, but where do I even start? I’ve only said harsh things to try to keep distance between us—to protect myself. But I selfishly didn’t consider the cost to him.
Rhett surprises me, drawing one of my hands into his and rubbing soothing circles in my palm. He’s comforting me?
“Rhett, I owe you an apology. Really, I owe you many apologies. I should have said something this morning or even last night.”
He continues his tender movement with my hand but doesn’t try to contradict me.
“I said some truly awful things to you the other night.” It’s a weak start. “Not just that night. From the beginning. You haven’t deserved that from me, and I am sorry. I know those things have already been said, and I cannot take them back.” Heat rises to my cheeks, and guilt tightens my stomach. “You’ve been wonderful to me and you don’t deserve my cruelty.” I consider trying to explain why I said those things, why I’ve pushed him away, but he doesn’t need my excuses. That’s not the point. “I won’t—” I take a deep breath, “I won’t treat you like that again.”
The words hang between us for what feels like an eternity, and then Rhett’s mouth pulls into his most charming smile as he squeezes my hand in his. “I’m impressed. That was really good. I bet not many people can say they’ve gotten a Devon Blake apology.”
My mouth drops open in mock offense. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Just a little teasing, mama.” He gives my hand one more squeeze before releasing it, and I miss his touch immediately. “I forgive you. I know you’re not Crystal, and I know you only said those things to protect yourself.” Am I that transparent? He picks his phone back up from the daybed, opening his photo app again. “You ready for more pictures?” he asks, and just like that, he’s moving on and letting me off the hook in a way I’m not sure I deserve.
After showing me every Halloween costume his nieces and nephews have ever worn, he tells me the story of how he and his dad crashed a golf cart into a lake at his parents’ fortieth anniversary party and then switches the conversation back to me and my family. “What about your dad?”
It’s been such a lovely day, even with the conversation about his ex. Him bringing up my dad is jarring in a way Rhett could not have anticipated. Instinctively, I start to shake my head. I don’t like talking about my dad. Technically, he’s my stepdad. Mom said my birth father broke up with her while she was still pregnant, and she married my stepdad a few years later. He’s never done anything to harm me, but he never cared to know me either. Which means I don’t know him well.
But something about the way Rhett regards me with curiosity and patience when he sees the shift in my body language, but not an ounce of judgment or pity, makes me want to share. “My dad’s a nice enough guy, but we aren’t close. The dynamic in my house is sort of-mom raised me, and he raised my two younger brothers. They’re six and eight years younger than me, both of them D-1 athletes, his dream come true.”
Rhett looks me up and down, tilting his head. “You’re an athlete.”
“Yeah, I played volleyball all through school but didn’t want to pursue it in college. Dad would always come to my games until my brothers were old enough to play their own sports, and he usually had to be there instead.” I laugh, but it’s forced. “He just had a different focus.”
“Are you okay with all that?” Rhett asks.
“I’m never going to let the interest level a man has in my life dictate the way I feel, even if it is my dad.” At least not anymore. I made my peace with his parenting style, or lack thereof years ago. I try to explain another way. “You know how when you’re a kid, you assume what happens in your house is what happens in everyone else’s house?”
He nods. “Because you don’t know any better yet.”
“Exactly. For years, it never even occurred to me that dads were supposed to spend as much time with their daughters as they do with their sons.” Rhett’s brows furrow and his jaw clenches. “It took a long time before I realized we had a specific dynamic. My mom is a lot more interested in my brothers than my dad is in me, but she still treats me like an obvious favorite. It can’t be great for them either.”
Rhett understands that I don’t want pity, or pandering, and probably most importantly he doesn’t try to tell me I need to give my dad more credit. He just listens, and with every passing moment I feel safer in his company. We keep on like that for hours. He asks about my brothers, growing up with Allie, what position I played in volleyball, and on and on. I find out he played baseball in high school, but I don’t believe him when he says he wasn’t very good at it. The day passes in an instant, conversation flowing between us in the easiest kind of rhythm.
Rhett
“Head’s up,” I say, tossing a flannel shirt at Devon. We’ve been sitting on the daybed all day, through lunch and dinner. She’s still in her tiny, silky pajama shorts and my t-shirt, and it’s starting to cool off.
She giggles. Devon giggles. “Just what I need,” she says, sliding her arms into the sleeves and letting it fall around her slender body.
After today, I’ve seen enough of Devon’s smiles that I’ve lost count. She’s letting me in, being casual and comfortable with me in a way she never has before, not even the first night we met or two nights ago when we slept together.
Then, she was trying to prove a point, giving me as much fire as she could while also taking her pleasure. Being physically intimate, but emotionally distant. Now, she’s laughing easily, sharing extra details, giving me even more information than I ask for on every question.
“Did you build this too?” she asks, tapping the teak frame of the daybed. Until she got here, I’d barely ever used it. Now, it feels like hers, just like her chair.
“This might be the only thing out here I didn’t build,” I answer. “I didn’t want to deal with hiring someone for the upholstery.”
“But there’s so much custom upholstery inside?” she asks, pointing toward the trailer.
“My mom did all that for me before I moved away, but all the outdoor furniture came after I no longer lived close to her.”
“That’s so sweet. And she did a really lovely job.” Devon smiles, and I know Mom would eat up the compliments if she were here. “But now you have a designer, so I can help next time you need custom upholstery out here. I’ve got a great workshop I use.” She throws the words out casually, like it isn’t the first mention she’s made of a future of any kind between us. She said I have a designer, but all I hear is I have Devon.
I watch her for a long moment, but she doesn’t seem to catch the significance. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I know I was really harsh with you about it the other day, which I am sorry about as well, but would you ever seriously consider making your own furniture line?” she asks.
Devon apologizing is an odd experience, like seeing a fish out of water. She was as sincere as she always is, but I could tell it’s not something she’s accustomed to. I told her I forgave her, and the truth is, I can’t imagine a single thing I wouldn’t forgive her for if it meant I got to keep her in my life.
I doubt she realizes what a sensitive chord she’s struck with her inquiry, and I don’t want her to feel bad again, so I’m careful with my response. “I have. There are two dozen more concepts in storage back in Texas.”
She gasps, mouth turning into an easy smile. “I’d love to see them.”
“Hopefully someday you can,” I answer, but what am I hoping for? Devon to come out to Fort Worth with me to look in a storage unit? If I’m honest with myself, I know exactly what I’m hoping for, and that’s not it.
She pulls her knees tight against her chest, warming her bare legs. Even with the flannel, her tiny pajamas and my threadbare t-shirt don’t provide enough heat against the cooling desert air.
I get up and grab a few logs from the woodpile.
“Why haven’t you pursued it further?” she asks.
It’s another part of my life I left behind when I moved here, a failure I was happy to close the door on. I glance up at her between stacking logs into a pyramid in the firepit. Her navy eyes are sparking with the same admiration they carry whenever she inspects my work. She makes me want to reopen that door, if only to make things for her. I’d build her anything she asked for. A whole house-worth of furniture. Or even the house itself.
Devon may be a wound-tight ball of anxiety about Friday West, but it feels impossible that her business isn’t doing well. She holds herself to exacting standards that she’s not meeting, but by any other measure, she’s a force to be reckoned with. It takes a heavy swallow that feels like a literal swallowing of my pride and a deep breath before I respond, “I did pursue it further, last year actually.”
She bypasses the implied failure in my words and smiles warmly at me. “That’s wonderful. Did you enjoy it? Would you ever do it again?”
I laugh, her kindness lifting a weight off my chest. “At first, I loved everything about it. I was still working the engineering job, and I’ve always spent time in my workshop on nights and weekends. Sometimes building things with my dad, but usually on my own. My sister Casey’s the one who recommended I tried to make a proper business out of it.” With the fire lit, I move back to the daybed to sit with Devon, who turns to face me fully with rapt interest. “I got a cohesive collection together, which was the fun part.”
She laughs, knowingly. “I bet.”
“And then I had to get an actual business off the ground, while trying to keep my existing job. Crystal wasn’t a fan of the idea, and she was pretty angry about all the time I put into it.” The sound of her name in this quiet moment with Devon doesn’t sit right. Her memory doesn’t belong here. I’m grateful that I had an opportunity to be honest with Devon about what happened between us, but now I’d be happy to never talk about my ex again. “When I quit my job, I planned to pursue the furniture business full time, but when she left, I gave it up to move out here, and got work in construction instead.”
Normally, Devon’s tendency to take her time before she speaks and make thoughtful comments is something I admire. At the moment, I wish she’d just say what she thinks. After a long pause, she says, “Sounds like maybe you didn’t have the support you needed for it to work.” She squeezes my knee, then adds, with some light-hearted self-deprecation. “You know, I’ve learned a little bit recently about how detrimental it can be to try to do everything all by yourself.”
“You’re doing amazing. You took a nap today, admitted you need help sometimes. Look at you.” My hand instinctively goes to the back of her head to pull her in for a kiss, but I remember at the last second that I told her I wouldn’t initiate. Although, that was sex, and this is affection. I shift and kiss the top of her head instead. Disappointment flashes across her eyes, and I open my mouth to say something, but she beats me to it.
“What was your company called?” Devon asks.
I run my fingers through my hair. “It wasn’t real creative or anything.”
“Come on,” she prods, “tell me.”
“McCoy’s Chairs.”
“Um, that’s.” Her lips curl in to hide a smile. “We’ll have to work on that.”
She’s talking about the future again.“We will?”
“Would it make you happy to try it again, or do I just think everyone should run their own business because that’s what works for me?” she adds the last with a laugh.
“Maybe it could. Creating physical things is the most gratifying work I’ve done. It feels good to carve and craft, take something from its raw state and make it useful or beautiful.”
“Or both,” she adds.
“Or both,” I agree.
A strong breeze has the fire popping and flickering, and Devon moves a little closer to me for warmth. We’ve barely touched today besides the decadent moment where she laid on my chest after I found her out here napping. She’ll have to come get sex if she wants it, but I’m not withholding affection out of stubbornness anymore. I’m going to hold her while I have the chance. I hook my arm around her bent legs and fold them over my lap before covering us both with a blanket. Gloriously, she nuzzles into my side.
“I’ve seen a lot of woodwork-custom furniture, cabinets, built-ins, paneling. You have an unusual skill. You could be very successful with a furniture company.” She rests one of her hands on my wrist, giving it a light squeeze. “If you wanted to.”
The compliments coming from Devon are rare, and they hit me deep, so I share more. “There’s a spot about a hundred yards from the house that would be a good place to put a workshop. It’s a little ways around the turn of the hill, so it wouldn’t block the view.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought about it a lot.”
“I have,” I admit.
“Well, if you decide you need some support this time, I’m here.” It’s a simple offer, loaded with meaning. She’s not pushing me away anymore, and she doesn’t intend to either. It’s still unclear if she thinks we’re friends or if I’ll get to have her in all the ways I want most, but it’s progress I wasn’t expecting, nonetheless.
We’ve talked about heavy important things today, and the omission of Friday West and Trina Boatswain is glaring. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want me to pry, but I wonder if she needs a sounding board. I phrase my question very carefully. “Is there anything you could use some support with?”
Her brows quirk for a moment before she catches my meaning. “I think taking a break and not thinking about certain things at all is helping me a ton. Thanks, though.” It’s not a dismissal the way I expected, just honest words about not wanting to deal it. Progress.
We return to easy conversation, laughing, joking, and teasing, looking up at the stars and soaking in the slow, easy cadence of spending a day together. Devon initiates another popcorn catching contest, this time with clearer rules, that I win, catching thirty-two in a row compared to her twenty-eight. But the casual, mildly flirtatious energy drops as soon as we move inside the trailer to go to bed, replaced by something far more carnally charged.
Devon
The past couple days have been transformative. I took my friends’ advice and really, truly allowed myself to rest and put aside every aggravating thought about money, business, failure, and Trina. It’s like a physical weight was lifted from my shoulders, and I’m breathing easier.
I accomplished nothing I would normally class as productive today, and yet I feel more fulfilled after a day of lazing around with Rhett than I do after checking off my entire to-do list. He kickstarted this shift two nights ago when we had it out. I don’t get into many arguments because I can usually get away with making my point and walking away, but he wouldn’t accept that from me. He pushed and pushed and got me to admit to myself, if not to him, how very scared I’ve been, and then he distracted me in the best way possible.
He told me I’d come to him, and I’m not ready to let him win that battle yet. But I’m also done waiting to feel his touch again.
“A little odd to change into pajamas now,” I say, trailing a hand from my neck, between my breasts, and all the way down to toy with the hem of his t-shirt that I’m never giving back.
His eyes narrow, and all the playfulness from the day drops from his demeanor. “Did you have something else in mind?”
My heart beats rapidly in my chest. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?” We’re on opposite ends of the trailer, with him standing at the foot of the bed and me by the bathroom door. The long walkway between us is like a twenty-foot challenge to see who’s going to surrender to the other first.
“You know better than that.” He’s already stripped down to his boxers under the guise of getting ready for bed, leaving the full definition of his firm chest and muscular legs on display. “You come to me, or nothing.”
The demand in his voice has me wanting to give in already, but I hold my ground too. “Didn’t you insist we would be more than one night?”
He nods slowly. “Because you can’t resist. It’s you Devon, not me, who can make this happen.”
This man has been drooling over me for months. There has to be a way to make him snap.I cross half the distance between us with slow, sensual steps. His eyes track the movements, looking me up and down in a way that suggests he’s not bothered at all by the loose t-shirt that hides my figure.
When I stop, his powerful veneer almost cracks, but he regains his composure and says, “You’re so close, mama. Just a few more steps.”
I shake my head. “I’m making sure you have a good view for the next part.”
A muscle feathers in his jaw, but he says nothing when I make a show of licking my lips and nipping the bottom one with my teeth.
“I’ll give that distracting mouth something to do,” he says. For a second, I think I’ve won already, but he continues, “as soon you get your ass over here and beg me.”
Heat rushes to my core, more tempted than ever to give in, but I manage to hold my ground. “You didn’t say anything about begging.”
His lips pull into the exact smile that turns his rugged features irresistibly charming. “That was before you teased me for two days. Now you’ll have to beg.”
My eyes narrow on him, and I slowly peel up my loose t-shirt, revealing satin shorts, the skin of my stomach, and my bare breasts before tossing it aside.
“Goddamn.” He lets out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a vision.”
Rhett’s eyes cover every inch of my skin, hovering the longest on my pointed nipples and the expanse of my legs. He’s still not moving, so I hook my thumb into the waistband of my shorts and pull them slowly down past my toes.
He hums a low sound, and when I reach for my panties, he says, “You can take everything off, and it won’t convince me. You want me, and you need to admit it. You don’t get to say it was my idea when this happens again.”
Dammit.
“What do you want, Devon Blake?” he asks a now familiar question.
I want him to get over here and fuck me.His gray eyes search mine, no longer lingering on my exposed body, but concerned with what I’m thinking. I can’t keep telling myself this is only sex.
He watches me, transfixed. “I’ll wait for you to work it out.”
I want to be free, unrestrained, and out of control. I want him to make me feel so safe that I’m no longer worried about doing the right thing, because I know he’ll protect me no matter what happens. I want to surrender.
My eyes hold his, the realization making me feel far more vulnerable than my nakedness ever could. I take a deep breath and answer, “I want you.”
“I’m yours,” he breathes, then points to the floor directly in front of him. “Come here.”
It’s even easier to do what he asks than it was two nights ago. I cross the remaining distance immediately, reaching up for his face to pull him down for a kiss, but his firm hands encase my wrists, stopping me before I get there. He lowers his voice, dipping his head just enough to bring us to eye level and speaks each of three words with individual emphasis. “On your knees.”
My body buzzes with anticipation, and my throat goes dry. “Yes, daddy,” I answer, dropping to my knees as he releases my wrists with a satisfied rumble. I’m eye-level with his hard cock, the tip visible above the waistband of his boxers. On my knees, the freedom I was yearning for sets in. I don’t have to make a single decision for the rest of the night.
I reach up to pull them off, but his hand stops me again. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” But he doesn’t make me wait any longer, taking them off himself and leaving me with an intimate view I haven’t yet gotten. Both times we’ve been naked together have been under the cover of night, so I stare my fill at his mouth-watering cock.
This time, when I start to reach I remember to stop myself.
“What did I say before?” he asks.
My mind is whirling, focused on all the ways I want to indulge in his body, so it takes me a second to remember. He wants me to beg. I’m already on my knees, and he won’t let me touch him, so I’m left with only my words. “Rhett, I want. Please let me, I—” I struggle to put it into words, but when he curls a finger under my chin, drawing my gaze to meet his, the unmistakable adoration in his gaze emboldens me. “I want to know what it’s like to savor you in my mouth. Please, let me have you like this. Let me lick you and taste you and swallow you. Please.”
“You are perfect,” he says, cradling my face in his warm hand and giving me unlimited permission. “You can have anything I have to give, and you can touch me anyway you like.”
My eager hands fly to his body. With one, I lightly stroke and explore his cock where it bobs heavily before me. He hums his pleasure, and when I start a tender massage on his balls with the other, I look up to see his eyes are closed, already in ecstasy. I’ve barely touched him. My movements grow firmer, and I watch his face as he soaks in the pleasure.
With his eyes still closed, I run my tongue around his bulbous tip. He breathes my name, and I lick him from tip to base before finally taking him into my mouth. The next time I look up, his head is tilted down, watching me with awe. I keep working him with one hand at his base and brace myself on his muscular thigh with the other.
His hips work with my rhythm, and he starts to take over, holding onto my head and pumping into my mouth. I open my mouth wider, letting my lips be stretched by the thickness of him as he pushes deeper and deeper until tears gather at my eyes.
“You look so fucking pretty choking on my dick,” he says, picking up his pace even more. Right when I think he’s going to come, he pulls all the way out, his cock glistening from the wetness of my mouth. Stunned, I blink at him. His mouth quirks into a devilish smile. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He pulls me up to stand and presses his lips against mine in a wild kiss, grinding his hips against me as his tongue meets mine. “This mouth,” he breathes. Wrapping his arms around me, he draws me down onto the bed we’ve been sharing for almost two weeks, finally about to get the action it deserves.
He nips at my bottom lip, then pulls back so his weight is no longer holding me down. “Knees again.”
My eyes dart to the end of the bed then back to him, and he laughs lightly before his commanding presence comes back in full force. “Hands andknees.”
I’m quick to obey. The warmth of Rhett’s muscular body is behind mine an instant later followed by his rough fingers tucking inside my thong, stroking me from entrance to clit with a knuckle. It’s the lightest touch, but it feels exquisite. My breathing is heavy, my focus zeroed in on his touch. He folds his body all the way over mine, but before I can revel in it, there is a sharp tug as he pulls my panties to the side, leaving me gasping.
He kisses along my neck as he sinks first one finger, then two inside me. Arching my back, I help him find the right angle and he works me there just long enough to get me soaked and panting before replacing his fingers with his throbbing cock.
I’ve tasted him on my lips, experienced his fingers and now the hardness of him inside me, and still I want more of him. I’m greedy for the pleasure, and even though he’s thrusting harder and faster, he doesn’t seem close to finishing. I revel in it, letting every moan, gasp, and whimper that I’d usually try to hide spill out of my lips.
His fingers reach around my body and deftly strum at my clit. “Just one night, huh?” He teases into my ear.
Pleasure builds in my body higher and higher, but I manage to get my words out around breaths. “Some challenges are worth losing.”
He keeps up his steady rhythm, working me inside and out to bring me to a pulsing climax that radiates through every inch of my body, following me over the edge soon after.
We collapse onto the bed, damp with sweat and breathing heavily. After a long moment, he kisses my temple, whispering in my ear. “Told you I’d get you on your knees in the trailer.”
“Four days late.” I laugh. “Barely counts.”