13. Piper
thirteen
piper
You Make My Brain Melt
Unknown Number
Well, well, my little Peppercorn. Looks like you’re finally making waves and climbing those ladders. Bagging a billionaire?! Damn, girl! Finally making your old man proud. I told you your looks were the only thing that would get you anywhere, and it seems I was right.
M y hand trembles, even as my fist curls around my phone at the sight of something I haven’t seen in years. A message that has my eyelid twitching and my skin crawling. A reminder of the asshole whose DNA I’m cursed to share. And a realization that, even after years without his calloused words—as if I wasn’t his own flesh and blood, but a burden handed to him—I’m not as far from a setback as I thought I was.
And just when I’m about to delete the message and block the number, there’s a knock on my door that makes me jump.
“Coming!” I respond breathlessly, shoving my phone into my clutch and running a hand over my emerald-green, body-hugging, spaghetti-strap dress. It’s the same dress I wore to Rowan and Shay’s pre-wedding cocktail party, but it also seems appropriate for meeting Dev’s parents for the first time.
Slipping into my heels, I head toward my bedroom door.
Despite my request for him to share his room, Dev moved across the hall to the guest room the day I showed up here with Rome and my sweet bunnies.
Okay, so maybe that day wasn’t the best example of their sweetness, but they probably felt woozy from the car ride and didn’t love being in a new place. The entire experience may have triggered some kind of panic attack in Natalie and she lashed out at Kevin, but she’s calm now.
Still, I have them separated for now. Thankfully, Kevin was not hurt, but I’ve made an appointment with the vet. I haven’t taken them since I got them from the breeder so it’s about time. Perhaps the vet can give Kevin rabbit Viagra or something. Maybe Natalie is sexually frustrated.
I swing my door open, coming face to face with Dev in a white button-down under a navy blazer and slacks. The top few buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, and my breath catches when my eyes track over the scruff below his jaw and the stretch of his neck. The scent of him—a subtle and woodsy cologne—has me feeling dizzy.
Speaking of being sexually frustrated . . .
“Hey!” I croak out, clearing my throat and trying again. “I mean, hi!”
His chestnut brown eyes rake over my frame, flaring slightly when they halt on the subtle hint of my cleavage. “You look . . . nice.” His gaze finds mine again. “Green is my favorite color.”
I lift a brow. “Yeah? I didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t, either . . .” his tongue slides over his bottom lip, “not until a couple of weeks ago.”
Yeah, so this —his raspy voice, his swoon factor turned to level one-hundred, and his delicious scent—is not helping my already charged up and dissatisfied libido.
I’ve been living in Dev’s mansion, complete with the kind of security even Fort Knox would envy, for the past week. And while I’ve only seen him twice in that time—not counting this moment right now—given he’s been traveling to God knows which countries or planets, every time has been like a tease to my vagina.
The first was when I’d just gotten home from the salon a couple of nights ago, chauffeured back because Dev’s on a mission to ensure my safety, or maybe just to drive me crazy. The jury is still out.
I was rummaging through my purse when I was met with a hard and sweaty bare chest. His hard and sweaty bare chest, with the perfect smattering of hair as he exited his home gym. I tried to act nonchalant, even as my core clenched, but I’m pretty sure he watched me track a bead of sweat down from his collarbone. Judging by his smug smirk, he knew I wanted to run my tongue along the same path.
Then there was yesterday, when I saw him walk from his indoor sauna to his bedroom in nothing but a towel, his muscles flexing with each step. And I swear, like the time before, the bastard knew I was watching him. His stupid dimple, buried behind his scruff, appeared right as he was closing his door.
So, because I’m not above irritating him, I decided it was about time he got punished for being a vaginal-tease. I finished his weekly crossword puzzle—diabolical, I know.
Since his return, I’ve seen it lying around on the coffee table—one of those weekly crossword puzzles inside the financial magazines he probably thinks is the word of God. The couple of times I’ve glanced at it, a few new clues have been filled in. Interestingly, I’ve always had a strange knack for puzzles, crosswords or otherwise, and I was dying to finish it for him but have resisted the temptation.
But not last night. I snuck out of my room after he’d gone to bed and finished it, leaving it where it was. I mean seriously, who doesn’t know that another word for “diplomacy” is “tact”?
This morning, as I was stirring creamer into my coffee, he emerged from his room, all GQ’d out from head to toe. His eyes practically popped out when he realized the puzzle was completed.
He held up the magazine from across his monstrous kitchen island, his expression a mixture of amusement and suspicion. “Did you finish this?”
“Hmm?” I’d said nonchalantly. “Finish what?”
He’d set the magazine down on the marble countertop, his gaze fixed on me. “This crossword. Did you finish it?”
I widened my eyes in mock indignation. “Why would I finish your crossword? Do I look like the type to do crosswords in my free time? Come on, Lex, you know I have more tact than that.”
Dev’s eyes had twinkled, realizing exactly what I’d said, but he didn’t say anything as I sauntered by, making sure to catch another whiff of his cologne, storing it in memory to enjoy throughout my day.
The thing is, I’ve never been shy about my sexual desires. I’m generally upfront about my drive and make no apologies for it, but with Dev, something has held me back.
It’s obvious he knows I find him attractive—my blatant drooling has made that pretty damn clear. But does he feel the same way about me? At certain times, it would seem so, but for some strange reason, my brain turns to goop around him, leaving me second-guessing myself.
Plus, the guy has been anything but predictable. If I were to make a move first, can I honestly guess how he’d react ?
But there is the question of my ridiculous attraction to him, my desire to jump him at every chance, and my increasing sexual frustration that only he’ll be able to cure.
And while I agreed to the terms of this fake relationship, we never discussed this aspect: what if one of us starts wanting more, even if it’s just physical? Probably because at the time, I hadn’t realized that my attraction to him would be such a living, breathing entity.
But it is. It so fucking is.
At the time, I thought my fingers and my toys would be enough to take us across the finish line. But they so aren’t.
Because all I’ve done since I met my fake fiancé is imagine those enormous hands on me, those thick fingers filling me, and that ridiculously beautiful mouth on my skin. Between our charged banter and me practically salivating at the sight of the man, I’m not sure I can handle months of this.
I’m not sure I can handle another week!
Which is why I’ve created a new proposal for us. One that hasn’t been discussed yet, but really ought to have been, and one I plan to suggest in the car tonight on the way to dinner at his parents.
Dev’s hand rests on the small of my back as he opens the passenger door to his sports car—easily worth more than everything I own—and helps me inside. Just that small gesture, his hand on my back, not even touching my skin, has my heart pulsing in between my legs.
I’m just rechecking my lipstick in the mirror when he slides into the driver’s seat. He waits for me to finish and I give him an inquisitive look, flipping the visor and sitting back into my seat. “What’s up?”
Leaning across me, he reaches for my seatbelt and pulls it over my chest. His woodsy cologne envelops my senses, his jaw and neck so close that I’d only have to move a millimeter and I’d be able to feel his scruff across my lips .
Exasperated and needing a change of underwear, I throw my hands up and slap them down on my thighs just as he finishes buckling me in, shooting him a bewildered look.
His brows furrow. “What?”
“Are you doing this on purpose?”
He squints at me like I’ve lost my marbles. “Am I doing what on purpose? Making sure you’re safe?”
My nostrils flare at that smirk, which has been finding his lips more and more recently. “No. I mean yes, but that’s not all.” At his continued confusion, I huff out an exasperated breath. “The sweet gestures, like buying Vajayjay a pink bow and my rabbits that expensive food, the barely arguing with me when I threw you out of your room, the looking at me like . . . like you’re thinking the same things I’m thinking?—”
His face stills, his voice dropping low. “And what are you thinking?”
I take a breath, wrapping my arms around my chest, flicking a glance out the window to get a hold of my thoughts. My heart hammers behind my ribs in anticipation of my next move. Not even I know what’s going to come out of my mouth.
“Peter.”
I turn back to face him. “Dev, I moved in with you and now we’re going to meet your parents as a couple for the first time. I’m about to meet your mom, the person we’re doing all this for.”
His chin lowers but his eyes stay fixed on me, urging me to go on.
I lick my lips. “I just think that if we’re going to be living together and in this fake relationship, we should . . . get something out of this too, you know? I feel this weird tension between us, this charge like I’m going to combust. Half the time I want to slap you, while the other half I want to climb you like the goddamn Redwood you are and rub my lady bits on you like I’m in heat?—”
My eyes bounce between his. “Oh, gosh, I'm rambling again, aren’t I? See this is exactly what you do to me.” I glare at him. “You make my brain melt and I just start glitching like this. I don’t act like this in front of anyone?—”
“What do you mean get something out of it?” Dev interrupts, his voice sending goosebumps over my bare arms.
“Never mind.” I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You know what? Let’s just get going. I don’t want to keep your parents waiting, and honestly, I’ve humiliated myself enough. I don’t even know what I was saying?—”
“Piper, look at me.” When I hesitate, I feel his warm hand around my wrist, gently guiding it down. He holds it there, waiting for me to meet his gaze. “What do you mean by, ‘get something out of it’? I need you to be clear.”
I’m positive he can hear the hammering of my heart resounding against the silence in the car. I swallow hard, feeling the tops of my cheeks burn. I have no idea why this is so hard when I’ve never had a hard time talking about it before.
“Dev, I like sex. No, I don’t just like it; I love it. And while I’m committed to going through with this arrangement for as long as you need, I just . . .” God, my cheeks are on fire. “I have a new proposal for you.”
“Which is?”
I lift my chin, pretending to have the balls to say this when my lady balls are actually shriveling up inside my lady crotch. I realize that’s anatomically incorrect for me but it feels right at the moment. “I would like you to fuck me.”
Dead silence.
Even my heart seems to have gotten the memo because it goes still while Dev’s impassive face—save for the way his eyes darken—freezes in place .
“You want me to?—”
The ding of my phone cuts him off, and I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. “Sorry,” I mutter. “Let me make sure this isn’t important.”
But the blood drains from my face when I read the message from the number I should have blocked earlier.
Unknown Number
What’d you do? Show off those tits? Good for you, sweetheart. Glad you’re finally learning to use what your mother gave you. It’s about the only thing she gave you that was worth anything. And you certainly didn’t get any of my brains or talent. Now, tell me, when and where can we meet? I might just be in your neck of the woods, and it’s been too long since I saw my little girl.
My lips curl into a snarl.
My dad is clearly off the wagon and off his rocker again. Probably sitting in some shithole bar, falling off the stool, drowning in his self-loathing and filth.
Good. I hope he fucking rots there.
He’d always been cruel, entitled, and selfish, but had he ever been as despicable and vile? Not from what I can remember. But time has a way of smoothing out the rough edges of our memories.
He’d apparently been harassing Rowan too, even showing up to his game to stir up unnecessary drama, but thankfully, my brother put him in his place. The only place he belongs—out of his life.
So why the hell is he trying to get back into mine?
The answer is obvious, of course, because he thinks he can get something out of this, and my response to it will be just as obvious .
My finger hovers over the button to block his number when Dev’s voice stops me cold. His gaze sharpens on my face, which probably betrays my shock.
“Who is it?”
I shake my head. “Just a wrong number.”
Dev’s eyes narrow, as if knowing I’m lying. “Piper. Tell me who it is.”
“Dev, really, it’s no one?—”
“It’s definitely not no one,” he cuts in. “Because if a message can wipe the smile off my fiancée’s face, I’m going to need to know which motherfucker just wrote his death warrant.”