Devlin watched him sleep, feeling like the worst kind of creep but unable to look away.
Julian wasn’t conventionally handsome or beautiful. His face didn’t have anything objectively remarkable about it. But he looked so damn lovely to Devlin, his every feature endearing and attractive. His mouth was rather small, not full like Liam’s, and yet it was the one Devlin wanted to kiss, again and again and again. Looking at Liam’s plump lips did nothing for him, but watching Julian’s small, mobile mouth made him imagine kissing it for hours before feeding it his cock—
Devlin grimaced, feeling himself starting to get aroused again.
He should go. Go home, and think about what he was going to do. He clearly wasn’t capable of rational thinking around this omega.
But he couldn’t leave, not when Julian had asked him to stay. He didn’t want him to wake up alone.
Whipped, Devlin thought, smiling crookedly to himself.
It wasn’t an amused smile. Nor was it an amusing thought.
Devlin didn’t sleep that night at all. It was both the best and the worst night of his life.
He had a lot to think about.
Chapter 22
Jules woke up, feeling… mmm, wonderful.
His cheek was pressed against something warm and comfortable. Smiling sleepily, he nuzzled into his pillow. It smelled good.
The pillow moved. “Good morning.”
Jules forced his eyes open and found himself staring at the Duke of Westcliff’s magnificent bare chest—which was the thing he’d apparently been using as a pillow.
“You didn’t leave,” Jules stated, blinking. “And you’re half-naked. I’m pretty sure you weren’t half-naked yesterday when I fell asleep.”
Devlin’s lips twitched, but otherwise his expression remained oddly somber. “We need to talk,” he said.
Jules winced. “Please can we not? I know how that talk goes. We really should skip it.”
“Skip it,” Devlin repeated, looking at him strangely.
Jules put on a smile. “Yes! Don’t worry, I understand that it was a mistake—two mistakes, now—and I’m not going to make things awkward. No one needs to know about this.” He waved his hand vaguely between them, smiling wider, as if it were one giant joke and his heart wasn’t actively breaking with every word he said. He was fine. Or he would be fine. He refused to be the pathetic, unattractive loser who acted all clingy and embarrassing around a man who was way out of his league. He was better than that, damn it. He had his pride. That was about the only thing he had.
Devlin frowned. “Julian—”
A phone went off.
“That’s yours,” Jules said, turning away to fix his rumpled clothes. He flushed, noticing that he was naked below his waist. Idiot. Of course he was naked below his waist. “You should answer it. Seems urgent with the way they aren’t giving up.” Not seeing his briefs anywhere, Jules settled on pulling the sheets to his waist.
Behind him, he could hear Devlin finally reach for his phone and answer it. “Yes?” he said shortly, his voice laced with irritation and impatience.
“Where the hell are you?” The connection was so good that Jules could actually hear the other person. “You promised you’d be here!”
Devlin heaved a sigh. “Look, Haydn, I’m sorry, but this is not a good time—”
“Are you kidding me?” the caller—Prince Haydn, apparently—said, sounding pissed off. “You’re the reason I’m here. My father told me not to step foot in Pelugia while he was alive, and I was more than happy to oblige and never see him again. I’m here only because of you, Dev. The least you can do is get your ungrateful ass over here and not leave me alone with the king!”
“Isn’t your husband there?” Devlin said. Jules could hear him reach for his clothes. Jules didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to see him half-naked again. He didn’t trust himself at all.
“No, Royce actually has a country to run. He wanted to come with me, but I told him it was unnecessary, because my favorite cousin would be there to act as moral support. You’re making me a liar.” Haydn said more softly, a pleading undertone to his voice, “Please get here soon. I don’t want to be alone with him.”
Devlin exhaled loudly. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
When he hung up, Jules said, “He called you cousin. He still doesn’t know you’re his brother? Why haven’t you told him?”
There was the sound of clothes rustling.
“There was no point,” Devlin said. “He’d only feel guilty for the privileged status he had all his life compared to me. He has a bleeding heart.” His voice became sardonic. “Frankly, I’m surprised our father managed to produce someone so good and nice.”
Jules turned around. He was both relieved and disappointed to find Devlin mostly dressed. “You’re talking like you don’t consider yourself a good person.”
Devlin smiled without much mirth. “Because I’m not one. I’m not a good man at all, sweetheart.”