Chapter 10
D evan
Justin’s eyes widen as he scans from my hair to my shoes.
With each passing second, the color drains from his cheeks.
I want to talk, to say something, but my heart is beating too fast. I’m afraid if I try to speak, I’ll pass out right here.
The realization hits. I should have gone with the mustache and wig.
“I say we get the biggest things first,” Ricky says, oblivious to the ringing in my ears or the tornado of thoughts swirling through my mind.
Justin’s upset.
He’s shocked.
He’s mad.
He regrets kissing me.
He doesn’t recognize me as the woman he kissed.
The kiss meant nothing to him.
Swallowing, I turn to my dad. “Thanks for coming all the way back up here.”
Dad drops a kiss on my cheek. “Anything for you, baby girl. You know that.”
Baby girl.
Great.
When I look back at Justin, he has his hat off, and he’s running his fingers through his already-mussed auburn hair. His deep blue eyes are no longer on me. He’s listening to Ricky’s plan to empty our apartment as fast as they can.
The only person who sees what is happening is my best friend.
As tears threaten to break through my facade, Marilyn reaches for my elbow. “Devan, come with me for a minute.”
Nodding my head too fast, I follow her back to her bedroom. She shuts the door and wraps her arms around me. It takes all my self-control not to cry. This is what happens when I let myself fantasize about a man and a kiss over the last five weeks.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
Swallowing again, I nod. “Yeah.”
“This. This is why I was apprehensive that night.” Her lips and nose scrunch. “Uncomfortable. I promise it gets better.”
“Right. I don’t know what I expected.”
My best friend smiles. “Devan Dunn, I know exactly what you expected. You had a reunion in your mind where the world around you and Justin fades, music that only you two can hear comes into range, and despite your dad and brother standing right here, you and Justin are brought together by some magic magnetic pull until you’re in his arms and your tongues are down each other’s throat. ”
Hearing her say that scenario aloud makes me realize how far-fetched it was.
I playfully slap her shoulder. “No one’s tongue is that long.” I force a laugh. “And, smarty-pants, there wasn’t music.”
“Liar. I bet it was the song “Wings” and the Jonas Brothers suddenly appeared in our apartment.”
“No,” I say quickly. “It was Lady Gaga.” I smirk. “Now, I’m thinking Miley Cyrus is best.”
“Damn right. You can buy yourself flowers.”
We turn at the knock on the bedroom door.
“Um, are you girls going to come out and direct traffic,” my dad asks, “or are you giving Rick and Justin full control?”
Marilyn’s and my gazes meet as we both start laughing.
Giving Justin Sheers full control is only a fantasy.
“We’re coming,” I call back.
“You good?” she asks in a whisper.
I nod my head. “I am now. Thanks, emotional breakdown avoided.”
For the next two hours, the five of us work together.
I admit to catching a glimpse of the way the muscles in Justin’s arms bulge when he lifts something heavy.
I also notice that he doesn’t shy away from big objects.
Listening to Ricky and Justin argue as they take our couch down the two flights of stairs has us all laughing.
It’s like a bad recreation of an old Friends episode.
We’re lucky there are no holes in the walls to take away from our deposit.
We’re all hot and dirty. The windows are open, and the warm spring breeze does little to cool the apartment. Yes, Marilyn and I are trying to save money by not using the air conditioning. Besides, the door is propped open.
Wiping my brow, I’ve pretty much decided that the kiss at the hog roast was completely a figment of my imagination. After all, Justin has barely spoken to me. Oh, he’s said a few things such as…
“Is that box going in the trailer or in one of your cars?”
“How did you get this much shit?”
“What the hell is in this tote, barbells?”
You know, super romantic things but no admission that we kissed, well other than the way the blood drained from his face when he first walked through our doorway.
I’m in my bedroom, or what’s left of it.
The furniture is gone, and I’m double checking the contents of a tote when I hear the door close.
Turning, my gaze meets the sexy blue eyes of my BK.
Crouched down on the floor, I slowly make my way to my feet.
Words aren’t forming as my flesh heats and silence builds.
Justin removes his hat and wipes his brow with his forearm.
His t-shirt is stained with perspiration from all the work he’s been doing and yet, as he takes a step toward me, I think he’s the handsomest man to ever be alone with me in my bedroom.
To be honest, he’s the only man to be in this bedroom.
My mouth goes dry as I try to read his expression.
“Are you mad?” I finally ask.
He snorts a response.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I guess you know why I didn’t tell you my name.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. His movements are short and jerky, walking one way and then another. His biceps flex beneath the hem of his short shirt sleeves and his boots sink into the carpet.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell my brother.”
“Fuck, Devan,” he growls. “I know this can’t go on.” He stops mere inches away.
Warmth radiates off him in waves; despite his hard work, his scent is that of fresh deodorant and an intoxicating masculine aroma. Without more provocation, my body reacts to his proximity.
Shaking my head, I start to back away. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing happened.”
His hand comes to my chin, holding my jaw. Tightening his grip, he lifts it higher until we have eye contact. “Is that what you want?”
Unable to speak, I shake my head.
Justin’s eyes are on my lips, staring at them as if he too is questioning whether our one kiss was real. My pulse speeds as my tongue darts out to my dry lips. In milliseconds, his lips crash down on mine.
Possessive.
Demanding.
Full.
Unlike the first kiss, this one is different. An exploratory mission to determine if the first kiss was real. By the way my nerve endings sizzle with electricity, my nipples bead, and my core twists, if I could speak, I’d say there’s no doubt.
Justin tastes of coffee and sweetness.
His hand continues holding my face, controlling the way I turn and the way we move. His wide chest presses against my sensitive breasts. I’ve never been more turned on in my life. Lifting my hands to his chest, I feel the frantic rhythm of his heart as our kiss deepens.
I’m staggered by the realization that Justin knows who I am, and he’s still kissing me. Not just kissing, claiming. I tell myself not to make too much out of this, but I’m not listening. When his lips part, without thought, mine do too.
It’s as his tongue slides over mine that I let out a moan and press mine against his.
My fingers grasp the fabric of his shirt, twisting the material as my lips bruise. It’s not all him. I’m pressing back with equal fervor. Hungry for—no, starved for—what I’ve only known with him.
Our bodies press together.
Mine melding with his as his hardens.
When Justin pulls back, I gasp, afraid he’s regretting that he did it—that he kissed Ricky’s little sister. Or worse, he is egging me on. This is some big prank, and he’s about to laugh.
I’m ready to apologize again when Justin shakes his head.
“Fuck, Devan, I don’t know what to do.”
Letting go of his shirt, I take a step back, trying to ignore the erection trapped in his blue jeans. “It’s okay,” I say, “if you regret kissing me. Now and before.”
His touch returns to my chin, gently lifting it. “Regret? Fuck no.”
The sound of voices, Marilyn’s, Dad’s, and Ricky’s can be heard coming from the living room.
“You don’t regret it?” I ask softly.
“Do you?”
“No. But” —I jut my chin toward the door— “I don’t know what to do about them.”
“Right now,” he says, wiping his hand over his handsome face, “nothing.” His lips curl into a lopsided grin, and his blue orbs shimmer. “Maybe once you’re settled, we can see each other?”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Unofficially.”
No longer do I see my brother’s cocky friend. Justin is adorable and sweet when he’s uncertain. That is not the way he kisses. Heck no. There’s certainty in his ability. It’s this…talking…the unknown.
My confidence builds. “Let me know when it’s official, Justin Sheers, and then I’ll give you my answer.”
As the door opens, Justin lifts one of the totes from the floor, holding it in front of him.
I contain my smile, knowing what he’s hiding.
“There you are,” Ricky says to Justin. “Why the fuck is the door closed?”
“Oh, was it?” I say as innocently as possible. Looking at the open window, I reason, “Probably the breeze.”