FOURTEEN
DEVON
Ido a very good job at keeping a neutral expression when the head of security tells me where they traced the alert back to.
A sensor malfunction.
Apparently, one of the upgraded motion sensors interpreted reflections from a maintenance drone as unauthorized movement.
I shake my head, rubbing my eyes, knowing he can’t see me since I have him on speaker.
Unbelievable.
My heart rate barely managed to go back to normal when Sam rocked me in his arms, and it was all because of a simple malfunction.
I’ve never felt more relieved, and more tired at the same time in my life. I’m fucking elated there was never any real danger for Sam, and everyone else working here, but I definitely feel like I’ve been put through the wringer today.
It’s only thanks to him that I manage to stay functional for the next couple of hours—the sweet man outside my office who pulled me out from that fucking abyss, and kept me sane before I could lose it completely. Who listened to me talk about Angel with nothing but kindness and understanding.
I’ve never told anyone about how hard I failed my little brother. Never shown another living soul how much the guilt and shame have been eating me up inside all these years. How much I’ve wished it would have been me instead.
But with Sam… it was the first time I wanted to let someone see. The first time I needed someone to see. And it could only have been him.
The knock on my door has me looking up, and at this point, the spike in my pulse or the smile pulling at my lips when those red curls pop in are no surprise.
“Hey,” he says with a smile. “I’m done for the day. Do you want me to wait for you?”
Wait for me. To go home with him.
Fuck the spike in my pulse. My heart is never going to beat normally ever again.
I’m perfectly fine with it. It was dead before I met him. It’s only fair that it beats for him now.
“Why don’t you text me your address, and go on ahead? I’ll just stop by the apartment, grab a few clothes, and drive over right after.”
“Oh yes, that’s a good idea.” He nods with a pensive expression on his face. “You should get some clothes. I don’t have anything that would fit you. You’d have to wander around in your underwear all the time.”
I love that he can’t help the splash of pink on his cheeks.
“Would that be a problem?” I shoot casually, wanting to see if he’ll blush some more.
He does.
“N-not for me.” God, that stutter. “It’s still a little cold, though. And the porch is really nice. I wouldn’t want you to get cold if we sat outside,” he murmurs softly.
He doesn’t need to worry about me getting cold. I don’t think I’m ever getting cold again.
As long as I’m close to him.
“I can’t wait to see it,” I tell him, and his beaming smile lights up my world.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you in a bit,” he says breathlessly, and I’ve never wanted to kiss him more.
“Yeah. See you in a bit, Sammy.”
I stare at the closed door like an idiot for a long while, before I quickly finish up for the day too.
There’s somewhere more important I need to be.
***
The sun has set by the time I’ve reached Sam’s neighborhood, the sky clinging to its dark purple hues before it unavoidably soon slips into full darkness.
But there’s still enough light for me to see what his home looks like—a beautiful little house outside the city surrounded by tree-filled hills, a blooming front yard, a wooden porch swing framed by colorful potted plants.
Like something straight out of a fairytale.
Which, I suppose, makes sense, considering I can’t believe Sam is even real half the time.
Like right now.
The door swings open after my light knock, and I swallow at the image in front of me, the faint nervousness that had been coiling in my stomach during my drive now loosening immediately, leaving me eager, greedy, needy. Absolutely goddamn needy for him.
Sam stands in the doorway in a chestnut-brown T-shirt and plaid pajama pants, red curls still mildly damp from a shower, barefoot, and fucking breathtaking.
Those dark chocolate eyes sparkle as he smiles up at me, and everything else disappears.
All the shame, all the crushing guilt I’ve felt for the last ten years, cowers in a tiny corner of my heart whenever he’s near me, whenever he looks at me like I’m somehow worthy of him. Like I deserve to have him.
He takes everything away just by breathing, and smiling.
I see his lips move, greeting me, before he takes a step back and then another so I can come in with him.
And I just follow him inside, in the warmth of a home that smells like him, like strawberries and cream, and roses in the spring, feeling like I’ve never breathed properly than in this moment—immersed in his world, surrounded by him.
“You’re wearing jeans!” he blurts out suddenly, when the door has shut behind us, and I’ve set my small duffel bag on the floor next to my shoes.
I don’t miss the appreciative look in his eyes, and damn if I don’t crave it on me.
“Shouldn’t I have?” I tease him, pulling him close.
“No, it’s just that I’ve never seen you in jeans, and you—” He peeks at me. “You look really good in jeans.”
“How good?” I ask, thinking he’ll just chuckle, or shake his head at me.
He does neither of those things.
No.
His palm applies the lightest pressure on my chest, and before I know it, my back rests against his door. My heart beats as if it’s trying to claw its way out of my body and burrow into his. It already feels this way anyway.
Like my heart no longer beats in my own body, but in his.
He goes up on his toes, his fingers threading in my hair, and he’s so fucking close when he speaks.
“This good,” he murmurs with liquid eyes and a velvet voice, before he’s kissing me like only he does. Giving me everything, and holding nothing back.
And I take it. I take it all because I’m the greediest bastard there is. Because I ache for him, and him alone. Because he’s the dream I never knew I had.
He kisses me deeply, slowly, his tongue stroking mine, moaning low in his throat when I take over, when I suck on him lazily, but sighing contentedly when I caress his skin where his T-shirt has ridden up.
“I should wear jeans at work from now on,” I mutter, and he chuckles.
“Please don’t. I’ll never get any work done otherwise.”
I grin at his defeated tone, but I feel ten feet tall when he grins back.
“How about when we’re outside work?” When we’re like this. God, let there be more moments like this.
“Then jeans are mandatory,” he replies. “And sweatpants. I’ve never seen you in sweatpants. I think I might actually expire if I do.”
I give him a smile that is all teeth, and he swallows.
“You brought sweatpants with you, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
He narrows his pretty eyes at me. “What color?”
“Gray.”
“You’re evil deep down, aren’t you?”
“Not as evil as you when you told me you walk around in large T-shirts and nothing else.”
His lips pinch together to hold back a smile, but he loses the battle fairly easily.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, and I know I’m already fucked before he’s even finished that sentence. “This weekend, I’ll wear my large T-shirts if you wear your sweatpants.”
My nails dig into his hip, and he arches against me with a light gasp.
“Deal,” I grate out, dipping my head to nip at his bottom lip, leaving it red and shiny when I pull back.
His eyes have that foggy, distracted look he gets when he’s feeling good, and fuck if I don’t want to be the one who puts that expression on his face forever.
A soft, cooing sound drifts over to us from close by.
“Your little one?” I smile down at Sam, and he nods.
“I picked him up from my parents’ place before I got home. It’s almost his bedtime, so he’ll start to get fussy soon.” He chuckles, but something flashes in his gaze. Something that looks very much like nervousness. “Would you like to meet him?”
The hesitancy and hope in his tone makes my chest squeeze tight because he’s… scared.
He’s scared I might say no. He’s scared I might not be interested in more.
He’s scared I might not want them both.
How could I not want something that is part of him, part of my mate?
There is a quiet hitch in his throat when I lean in, and press a kiss to his temple.
“I would love to meet him.”
His smile is brilliant when he steps back, and leads me to the living room. I can’t take my eyes off him as he bends low and unstraps Eli from his chair. As he straightens with his baby in the crook of his arm, and he glows. As my eyes fall to his little one.
Eli looks at me with his big, light eyes, wide and curious, his cheeks puffy and rosy, his small fists clenching and unclenching, and it hurts. Looking at this tiny ball of innocence hurts in a way nothing has ever hurt before. In the best and worst way imaginable.
“This is Devon, Eli,” Sam says, voice gentle, smile softer. “You want to say hi?” He takes one of his little hands in his, and waves at me with it, chuckling when Eli makes a small, gurgling noise, and starts sucking on the fingers of his other fist while he stares at me.
And as I look at them both, Sam smiling, holding Eli in his arms in the semi-lit living room, amidst the fading, purple sunset slipping through the windows, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.
My hand lifts of its own accord, reaching for the small hand waving at me with the help of its daddy, but I stop mid-way when I realize I didn’t even ask if I can touch him.
My eyes flicker to Sam’s, and I fall into the way he looks at me, like he can see straight into my soul, before he nods.
I envelop both their hands in mine, and I hope my voice isn’t as fucked up as I think it is when I speak.
“You were right.” My gaze roams Eli’s round, little face, before it settles on my Sammy, and stays. “He’s perfect.” Just like you.
Something indecipherable burns into Sam’s eyes as he cranes his neck, and brushes his mouth against mine.
Eli lets out a low huff of discontent that draws our attention, yawning even as he continues to chew on his knuckles, and I can’t help but smile at how fucking adorable he is.