Chapter 23 Lofton #2
The room spun, but Devon remained steady beneath me. He dropped his forehead against my shoulder, and his arms relaxed in the wake of his release, but his secure hold on me never faltered.
“Hey, you can put me down now.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
I slid my hand through the short hairs on the side of his head, allowing my fingernails to scratch his scalp ever so gently. “Come on. Let’s take a shower. I’ll get you cleaned up and take care of you.”
“That’s my job.”
“Not tonight. That was a seriously impressive feat of strength.”
He chuckled. “You don’t weigh enough for it to be a feat of strength, babe. Though I might need you to stop feeding me waffles and muffins every morning so I can add a few more miles of cardio.”
I giggled. “Fair enough.”
He lifted his head, a playful smile tilting his lips. “Either that or my next feat of strength is going to be breaking all the slats off that damn bed and hurling them out the window. There’s a reason we fuck in my bed.”
He slowly lowered me to my feet but kept me pinned between his hard body and the wall. His gaze held mine for a long second, something warm and soft—so inherently the opposite of Devon Grant.
“What?” I whispered.
He shook his head, still grinning almost in disbelief. “I’ve never even had you in my bed. Or at my house. Or taken you to dinner. Or bought you so much as a drink. Or hell, any of the shit people do at the start of a relationship.”
My smile stretched so wide I feared it would swallow my face. “Oh wow, so we’re in a relationship now? I must have missed the check yes or no letter you slid under my door.”
He hit me with a side eye. “Woman, when the hell would I have time to write a damn letter? You showed up in my room with a pair of fuck-me heels and a prayer. And you have not let up on me for a single second since.”
I bit my lip. “I like to be proactive.”
“You like to be a menace.”
“Same thing.” Stifling a laugh, I rested my hands on his chest and tipped my chin up. “Are you complaining?”
He shrugged. “I guess that depends if you’re planning to check yes or no.”
I reached up, curled my hand around the back of his neck, and pulled his mouth down to mine. His bottom lip dragging against mine just long enough to make my breath catch before he deepened it.
He let out a low groan of approval against my mouth.
When I pulled back, I held his gaze. “Does that answer your question?”
“Getting there.” His eyes dropped to my mouth again. “Could probably use a little more clarification, though.”
I laughed, and he captured the sound with another kiss, slower this time.
A connection without an agenda. But dear God, that connection was everything.
I’d spent years performing versions of that moment on screen, reciting lines about love written by people who had clearly only been guessing at what it felt like.
Because, as it turned out, none of them had come even remotely close to that moment with Devon.
When he was done with my mouth, he dropped his forehead to mine, our breath and a million unsaid words swirling in the space between us.
“Devon…” I started, even though I wasn’t completely sure what I was going to say. And pretty damn positive it was going to be too soon for all of it.
Devon must have sensed it too. “Shower.”
“Shower,” I agreed.
He stepped back, caught my hand, and pulled me into the bathroom.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” I asked as he held his hand under the stream of water, waiting for it to get hot.
“You don’t have to ask, babe.”
“Okay. So now that we have made things official, do you prefer Boyfriend, Bae, Beau, Snookums?” His expression flattened incrementally with every word.
“Maybe Honey Bunches, Cuddle Bear, Pookie, Sugar Lips.” I drew in a dramatic breath.
“Oh, oh, oh. What if we go full Game of Thrones? Devon Grant, First of His Name, Breaker of Professional Boundaries and Bed Slats, Warden of the Beck Family Farm, Master of Stoic Brooding, Protector of the Menacing Lofton Beck, and Rightful Heir to All Her Orgasms?”
He blinked at me.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
“So that’s your game? You hook me, check yes, make me your man, and then not thirty seconds later unleash all the crazy?”
I grinned wide and proud. “I mean, yeah. You wouldn’t have checked yes if I’d led with that.”
He shook his head, hooked his arm around my hips, lifted me—with one freaking arm—and deposited me into the shower-bathtub combo. All the while mumbling, “And here I thought you were going to be the one with regrets.”
After he joined me, he grabbed the bottle of my body wash and lathered up his hands. In his usual order, he started with my breasts.
“I overheard you arguing with your agent earlier. You fire her yet?”
I squeezed some of his body wash into my palm and got busy on his pecs as well. “Unfortunately, no. Though there is a solid chance she’s going to fire me.”
He arched a brow. “Why’s that?”
I glided my soapy hands up his shoulders, watching intently as I trailed them down his stomach. He rewarded me with a flex, each ab popping in a way that should’ve been illegal.
“I’m supposed to do reshoots on Lavender Daybreak in a few weeks. I told her I can’t make it. So now the director is losing his mind.”
“What kind of reshoots?”
“Studio stuff. Dialogue cleanup. A couple of emotional beats they want to punch up.”
“So, a soundstage?”
“Yeah.”
“And you said no?”
My hands slowed on his skin. “I don’t know. It’s only been, like, six weeks, and LAPD still doesn’t even have a suspect. Every time they contact me, they just feed me some theory about an obsessed fan who got in over his head and gave up.”
His jaw ticked, but his voice stayed even. “Case is still open.”
“Barely,” I muttered. “It kinda feels like everyone just… moved on.”
He shifted out of the spray, allowing the hot water to rinse me, and then immediately pulled me into a hug. “I didn’t move on, babe.”
“I know. That’s why you’re the Protector of the Menacing Lofton Beck. But regardless, it’s probably wise to sit this one out.”
Devon stepped away an inch, his hand moving to frame my face. He tilted my head back and then dipped low for an all too brief kiss. “I think you should go.”
My stomach sank. I knew he was going to say that.
It was exactly why I hadn’t mentioned the phone call.
But after the last time I’d felt brave—when I thought I was ready for a night out with Brittany and Francine—and then I’d practically had a nervous breakdown twice, I hadn’t been eager to give it another whirl. Especially not in LA.
I anchored my gaze on the white tiled wall over his shoulder. “I’m not ready.”
“Babe,” he whispered. “You can’t stay locked up here forever.”
“Technically, I can.”
He kissed me again, just as chaste as the first one, but no less meaningful. “It’s a soundstage. Controlled access points. Limited crew. I can lock that place down so tight it’ll make Fort Knox look like an open house.”
My nose stung, but I continued to avoid his gaze. “That seems excessive.”
“I am excessive. You should know this by now.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh. “I don’t know.”
“It’s been well over a month,” he pressed gently. “Whoever this guy is, he’s gone quiet. That doesn’t mean we drop our guard. It means we adjust.”
“And if he’s not gone?”
“Then you still got me, and he still can’t touch you.” There was no bravado in his words. No ego. Just fact.
Those stupid tears welled. And then I made the mistake of looking back into his eyes. His dark brown, gorgeous eyes, with long lashes and pure love blazing within. A tear spilled down my cheek, and because Devon missed exactly nothing, I couldn’t even play it off as a bead of water.
He caught it with his thumb. “I hate that you’re still carrying this.
I’d take it if I could, babe. I’d fucking destroy it for you.
But even if you weren’t my woman, it’d still be devastating to see a woman as strong as you shrink under that fear.
That’s how this kind of thing wins. Not when it happens—when it changes how you live afterward. ”
His thumb brushed under my eye again.
“Trust me, nobody on this planet hates LA more than me. But that city, for all of its downfalls, is still a part of you. This Lofton. My Lofton. Lofton Beck. Any and all versions. You’ve got a house there. A life there. A seriously pushy best friend and her kid there. You can’t disappear forever.”
My grip tightened on his biceps.
“This could be the baby step you need. Private plane. Guardian ground transportation. I can make this safe for you. I swear on my life, I can.”
I swallowed hard. “What if I’m not ready?”
He flashed me a smile. “Then I guess I’ll have to put on an open button-down, some lace panties, a pair of heels, and we'll do it anyway. Because no one in the history of the world was less ready than me, and look at us now.”
I half-laughed and fully cried. “Please never do that.”
“Deal.” He gathered me closer, the hot water starting to turn cold, so I drew my arms up between us, getting as close to him as humanly possible.
“You really think you can secure it?”
“I know I can.”
I looked back up at him, searching for hesitation. Doubt. Anything.
There was nothing.
Just that steady, immovable certainty that was pure Devon Grant.
My shoulders loosened. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I nodded. “I’ll do it. I trust you.”
That love in his eyes caught fire all over again. “Good. We’re gonna keep it that way.”
He kissed me again, deep and languid, sealing a promise I knew he could keep.
And then Devon and I did what Devon and I always did.
We got out of the shower together.
Dried off together.
Got into bed together.
And then drifted off to sleep in the complicated, comfortable peace that only existed when we were…
Together.