Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Blakely
Devon didn’t hear me open and close the back gate over the sound of the saw. I stopped just inside the garage, and I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
I hadn’t seen his workshop yet, and although my knowledge of what a woodshop looked like was limited, I knew it was impressive. There were handmade wood cabinets and workbenches lining the perimeter, and tools hanging from a pegboard nailed to the wall. Very large, slightly daunting equipment was everywhere, including on top of the large table Devon stood in front of.
But as impressive as his workshop was, it was Devon that I couldn’t tear my gaze from. Unabashedly, my eyes raked over him. It wasn’t like he’d noticed me yet anyway.
He had wireless earbuds in his ears and sweat gathered at his temple just below a backward black baseball hat that covered his red hair. A few strands still peeked out the front, or what would have been the back.
I was gawking, jaw slack, but I didn’t care.
He was wearing jeans and a brown belt that hugged his hips, but his shirt was missing. His massive shoulders and broad chest gleamed with sweat, and the thick, dense muscles beneath the array of colorful tattoos flexed with each movement he made.
He leaned forward slightly and pushed the wood through the saw blade. Even behind the clear safety glasses, I could see the depth of concentration in his eyes.
The saw cut off, but he didn’t look up. He straightened and fished his discarded T-shirt out of his back pocket, using it to wipe the sweat that had collected on his forehead. At full height, the image of him was even more unsettlingly perfect.
Two years had worn well on him. He wasn’t ripped, and that wasn’t a bad thing. He was massive and powerful and…
His gaze caught mine, dark and confused. A flush of embarrassment heated my cheeks, but I quickly schooled my features as he removed his safety glasses and tugged his earbuds free. I clasped my hands behind my back and sauntered into the workshop. The smell of wood, rich and hearty, surrounded me.
Like I was perusing an art gallery, I walked around the perimeter of the shop. I pretended like the tools and gadgets and thingamabobs were the most intriguing things I’d ever seen.
Whether I knew what any of it did, the entire setup was impressive. It was obvious Devon had invested a lot of time and money into the space.
As I walked, I could feel Devon’s eyes tracking me. His attention danced over my skin, and I tried not to let it show how much it affected me. He spun to continue watching me as I walked behind him. When I made the horseshoe, I wasn’t yet ready to talk. So, I went back around.
Finally, when I was back on the other side of the large table he’d constructed in the middle of the room, I stopped.
“This place is kind of…beautiful,” I said, unable to think of a better, more apt word. It wasn’t untrue, but calling a workshop beautiful felt strange.
A hint of a smile graced Devon’s lips, and I relaxed.
“What are you working on? ”
He glanced down at the length of wood he’d just cut and a small pile of similarly cut pieces next to it. “Nothing,” he said simply.
Eyebrows raised, I craned my neck forward and looked at the same wood. It definitely looked intentional and like it eventually would be something. But I dropped the subject.
Devon reached behind him and grabbed that same T-shirt, lifting his hat and wiping away more sweat. He replaced his hat and looked back at me. There was an unmistakable tugging in my gut as we stared at one another.
I took a deep, grounding breath and drew on the courage I’d felt minutes earlier that propelled me out of the back door and into the garage in the first place. But that courage was suddenly replaced by a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. And I began to second-guess the words on my tongue and how he might react.
It was going to feel worse not to speak up, though. I needed to try.
“So,” I said, but the word was distorted by the shaking of my voice. I took a second and tried again, still holding Devon’s unwavering gaze. “You broke up.”
It was hard to get a reaction out of Devon, but his eyes widened for a second, and if I hadn’t been watching him intently, I would’ve missed it.
“You didn’t say anything the other night,” I continued.
He glanced down at the T-shirt wrapped around his fists before he said, “No, I didn’t.”
“I wish you would’ve told me. We used to tell each other…everything.”
Something in my statement sparked his interest. He quickly whipped his head back up. Like the words were difficult to say, his jaw tensed and he jumped as he said, “We did, but me keeping my breakup from you is nothing compared to what you kept from me. What you kept from all of us.”
His words and the pain within them hit me directly in the chest. The impact was so strong that I stepped backward and almost ran into scrap wood hung on the wall. He was right, but damn, it hurt to hear.
Devon shook his head and tossed the T-shirt onto the table in front of him. “That’s not—I didn’t mean to blame you. I understand why you did what you did, but…I also can’t shake the hurt. I wish you would’ve trusted me enough to tell me what was going on.”
“Trust you?” I asked, my throat thick with pent-up emotion. “It had nothing to do with trust and had everything to do with keeping you and”—I glanced back toward the house where Shelly was likely cooking the food I’d brought—“ everyone safe.”
“Fuck, I know. I know that,” he said, spinning away from me and pacing to the other side of the garage. He pulled off his hat, ran a hand through his hair a few times before he replaced it, and clasped his hands behind his neck. Dense muscle in his back twitched and tensed, and I swallowed thickly. In my considerations of how this conversation may go, this wasn’t one of them.
He was still facing away from me when he said, “I’m not angry. This is all coming out wrong.”
“Just tell me,” I said so quietly I didn’t think he’d heard me, and he didn’t move for several, long seconds. It was so long that I readjusted on my feet and opened my mouth to say it again when he finally turned back around. I couldn’t even begin to name the expression he wore. Devastation, maybe? But it made me hurt everywhere.
Still, he didn’t speak.
“Tell me, please ,” I pleaded.
“Tell you?” he asked. “I’m not sure what good is going to come from me telling you that I was fucking heartbroken. I thought you were dead. Every day, I thought you were dead .” He ground the words out, and for the second time in my life, I saw tears well in Devon’s eyes.
Reflexively, I took a step forward, but there was still a large table between us .
“You were gone for two years. Two years, one month, and seven days. And somehow you found your way back, but—” His words abruptly stopped, and he licked his lips. His head fell back, and he stared at the ceiling. “Every day I’m still terrified, because every day without you was one of the worst days of my life. I worried and hoped every fucking day. And I still can’t believe that you’re actually here. But I can’t shake the feeling that eventually you’ll disappear again. I didn’t tell you because I’ve tried to keep my distance, and I’ve failed miserably. I can’t not be near you. I?—”
Before he’d finished the last sentence, I was around the table. I strode toward him and only stopped when I was inches away. Like I could feel the pain radiating off him, I reached out and lightly pressed my hands against his flat, taut stomach. He tensed as my fingertips pressed into his skin, but he didn’t step back.
So close, I could smell the intoxicating scent of him. It was all man and sweat and wood, and I wanted his arms to wrap around me so I could fall into it.
He dropped his arms to his sides, but his eyes were staring to his left, out of the garage, and toward the street beyond.
“Devon,” I said quietly. He didn’t move. “ Devon ,” I said again more urgently, flattening my palms against his stomach. I tried to draw his attention, moving into his line of sight and pushing up onto my toes.
When he still wouldn’t look at me, and I could see his jaw working, jumping beneath a thick layer of dark stubble, I placed my hands on either side of his neck. That stubble scratched against my fingers that I pressed against his jaw.
“Dev.” I tried one last time, and he finally gave in. Turbulent, hazel eyes met mine, and a sharp breath pierced through my lungs. Now that I had his attention, I didn’t know what to say. Nothing felt big enough for that moment. Nothing felt like it would correctly convey the endless thoughts and emotions tornadoing through me .
My fingers brushed back and forth against his chin, and I stepped closer. “I’m here,” I said, and although they weren’t enough, they were honest. Devon’s eyes flickered with understanding, and when he took a deep breath, I repeated the words. “I’m here.”
He tried to look away again, to step away, but I held on tighter. “I’m—I’m right here, Devon. I’m?—”
His tongue wetted his lip, and my eyes dropped to watch the movement. When I looked back up, his eyes were fixed on my own mouth. It was a split second. Possibly less than half a second in which we both made the decision.
He grasped my hips, and I stepped in closer until we were flush against one another. Then our mouths collided. The kiss wasn’t tentative or cautious, but the moment our lips brushed, I was hit with the power behind it. It was immediately all-consuming.
Devon’s hands tightened around my waist, and mine slipped around his neck, diving into the hair peeking out beneath his hat. My nails scraped against his skin, and I fought to get closer still. Even with every part of his front pressed against mine, there was too much space between us.
His firm tongue licked against the seam of my lips, and I willingly opened for him. The first taste of him was better than I’d dreamed. He tasted like spearmint and coffee, and the way his tongue dipped inside my mouth, I couldn’t hold back a small moan.
He responded with a low groan of his own, and suddenly his hands shifted, and I was being lifted off the ground. Without breaking our kiss, my ass hit the wood table behind me, and Devon yanked me to the edge. He stepped into the empty space between my legs and kneaded my thighs. My skirt rode higher, and his stubble scratched against my cheeks and chin.
While his hands worked their way higher, mine trailed across his broad shoulders and over his sweat-dampened skin. He was big and strong, but he felt even bigger and stronger under my touch.
His lips were perfect and urgent, and I wanted to memorize the way they fit against mine. When his hands once again settled tightly around my hips, fingers splayed just above my ass, we separated. His forehead pressed against mine, and our panted breaths mingled. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, and I let my hands run over his arms.
He leaned back, and I watched each muscle jump when I touched it. He conducted his own exploration, running calloused fingertips up my sides and down my stomach.
My nails scraped down his chest in the small sprinkling of dark hair that started at the center and traveled down. It was hidden by detailed artwork painting his torso, but it continued lower and lower until it disappeared behind his jeans. It wasn’t my intention to look, but there was no disguising the growing erection pressing against his zipper.
My mouth immediately went dry, and arousal pulsed between my legs.
Eyes snapping up to meet his, his hands paused on either side of my neck, cradling my face in his hands.
“I didn’t—” he whispered, brushing a thumb back and forth against my cheek. “I don’t know what happened. I just…snapped.”
A tentative smile pulled at the corners of my lips. “It was mutual. When I came out here—” My words stopped suddenly, and I licked my lips.
His brow furrowed, and he used his thumb to tug my lower lip free from my teeth. “When you came out here…?” he asked.
I shook my head, and I looped my fingers through his worn belt loops. “I was going to say that it wasn’t my intention to kiss you when I came out here. But that would’ve been a lie. I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.” The last words were quieter than the rest and so much harder to admit out loud .
“So, do it again.” Devon’s response shocked me. But with one quick scan of his face, I knew he wanted it as desperately as I did. His eyes were clouded with arousal, and his lips were parted in invitation.
Using my grip on his belt loops, I tugged him closer. He tangled one hand in my hair and tilted my face with the other, guiding our lips back together. My entire body sighed in relief. Same as before, there was nothing sweet about it. It wasn’t gentle, and it didn’t build.
Like there were years of pent-up and suppressed desire that were suddenly freed. All these new sensations vibrating through us, we were both too consumed by the clashing of lips, the meeting of tongues, the newness of it all that we forgot where we were and didn’t hear the car pull into the driveway or the door shut.
“Holy fucking shit,” a voice exclaimed from just outside the garage.
Immediately, we broke away from one another and whipped our attention in the direction of the sound.
My heart jumped into my throat as my brain recognized who stood between the two cars parked in the driveway. Sydney, Devon’s younger sister, looked like she’d just seen a ghost.
The spitting image of Shelly, her red hair whipped around her. Her mouth was dropped in a surprised “O” shape, and clutched in her hands were several bags and a duffel thrown over her shoulder.
“Umm…hey, Sydney,” I said, dropping my hands from her brother’s shirtless chest and struggling to tug my skirt back down to an acceptable length.
She glanced from me to her brother, who was still close enough to me that my knee was pressed against his thigh, and one of his hands was braced against my hip.
She snapped out of her shocked state and readjusted the bags in her hands. “I’m glad you’re back, Blakely,” she said with a shake of her head. “But you do realize, Dev, that your room is right up there.” She gestured to the apartment above the garage before she continued, “Unless you really can’t make it that far, in which case you should at least shut the door before you?—”
“Thank you,” Devon said loud enough that she dropped it. “Mom’s inside. You should go see her.”
She turned to leave, bags in tow, but paused, staring at the side of the garage. “Are you sure you don’t want me to just—” It took me a second to realize she was pointing to the button to open and close the garage door.
“Sydney,” Devon warned, and she did her best to raise her hands in surrender as she opened the gate and went inside. Neither of us moved until we heard Sydney greet her mom and the back door close.
“I’m sorry about her,” Devon mumbled.
I shrugged and slid off the table. “You forget I’ve known Sydney for over a decade. I wouldn’t expect anything different.”
That thought made me realize the gravity of what we’d just done. The first time I’d met Sydney, she was so young she still had a lisp and wanted to play princess every time I was around. Devon and I had been friends for so long. There was more than a decade of history between us, and we’d done the one thing that was most likely to fuck it all up.
Our friendship had survived college, his mom’s cancer diagnosis, the beginnings of adulthood, and my kidnapping. And the thought that we’d just kissed it all away hit me in a strong, sudden wave.
My fingers tentatively brushed against my raw and tender lips.
“Blake.” Devon’s low cautious tone broke me of my thoughts, and I glanced up to find concern drawing his brows together.
His hand reached toward me, but like he second-guessed the action, he instead dropped it to his side. “I hate that I can’t read your thoughts right now, so you’ve got to tell me what you’re thinking. Your facial expressions are…not great. Are you upset about what just happened?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, and I didn’t even have to consider my response. All the concerns from before lost their grip when I considered Devon standing before me. None of it was enough to keep me from moving. I closed the distance between us and peered up into his hazel eyes, letting him see the confidence I hoped was reflected in mine.
“No,” I said. “I’m not upset; it’s quite the opposite. I’m thinking that I really want it to happen again.”
Surprise replaced the concern in his expression, and a small smile tilted his lips. Lips I really did desperately want to kiss again. So much so that it scared me.
“But,” I continued as I reached for one of his hands and held it in both of mine. “If we don’t go inside soon, your sister is bound to tell your mom, and then we have two of them to deal with. Which isn’t the best idea before we even get a chance to talk about…this.”
Devon looked down at our joined hands and nodded thoughtfully. Because whether I was confident or not, kissing my best friend required a conversation afterward.
“Okay,” he said, dropping my hands to take my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He titled my face higher, and his eyes raked over me. They settled on my lips, which I reflexively wetted under his stare. “But just one more.”
I stood perfectly still as he fitted his mouth over mine. And that kiss was unlike both the others. It was sweet and soft, but only on the surface. Because beneath it was barely restrained desire and a need to explore that climbed higher the longer we were connected.
A quick brush of our lips suddenly turned carnal, and I was scraping my nails down Devon’s chest as his hands fisted in my hair. Our tongues warred, and it took everything in me to pull away. As much as I didn’t want to and it went against all my instincts, we had to stop .
“Fuck, Blakely,” Devon murmured with one final kiss, and those pleading words were enough to do me in. If he hadn’t stepped back and stopped touching me altogether, I would have suggested we go up to his apartment. Dinner with his family be damned.
“We need to go inside,” I forced myself to say. “Like right now.”
I turned without looking at him, knowing that if I saw him shirtless one more time, I would change my mind. His knowing chuckle was enough confirmation that he knew what I was doing. And I couldn’t keep the smile from splitting my face.