“Don’t go out alone. Always have someone accompany you. It could be your mates, your parents, Simon, or even me.”
A bold-ass request, but again, I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to. He was hardly here twenty-four-seven to watch me.
“Sure.” Then, when he didn’t move his hand again, I groaned. “Oh, right. Yes or no. Yes.”
“Last condition …” Devon’s fingers probed my opening, closer than ever. It only took one push for him to fill me completely. His other hand kept working on my breasts. “Move in with me. Just for the time being. I could protect you. We can look for an apartment for you in my building while you’re there. It has top-notch security, so I never have to worry about you.”
My eyes popped open and alarm bells began blaring in my head.
“Move in with you?” I repeated slowly.
I felt his nose nuzzling the crook of my neck.
“Come now, Sweven. You’re brave enough to shoot someone in the face if they come after you. Surely, you can tolerate a few months rooming with the father of your child.”
It was a dare. His index finger slipped into me, and I gasped, arching my back, my nipples resurfacing from the waterline. Devon bent down and captured one of them in his mouth, sucking fervently.
“So sweet. So, bloody sweet.” His straight, white teeth grazed the sensitive peaks. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he murmured, swirling his tongue around the tip of my nipple before nibbling on it. At the same time, he mercilessly fucked me with his finger under the water.
I pushed my groin toward his hand, chasing my release, knowing it was close.
“You’ll never be able to tame me,” I warned.
“I have no desire to.” He licked his way up my neck, sealing my mouth with a red-hot kiss. With all the tongue and droplets of water and so much desire, I thought I was going to combust. “I like you just the way you are. Unlikely, I know, considering your mule of a personality, but true.”
“I’m a mess,” I panted.
“Be my mess.”
It was more tempting than I could admit. Alluring like a beacon of light in a sea of darkness.
I came undone, climaxing on his fingers. I clenched around them so hard he laughed into our kiss, the spasms making my muscles tighten.
After a few seconds, he pulled away, quirking an eyebrow.
“Just for a few months,” I lamented—more to myself than to him.
It wasn’t like I had anywhere to put a baby in my current apartment anyway.
“Just for a few months,” he repeated, biting my lower lip playfully.
The glint in his eyes said it all.
I’d agreed to be his, even for a little while.
Giving up the thing I held most dear.
Complete freedom.
Four days later, I moved into Devon’s loft.
It was the first time I’d visited his apartment. Throughout our long and chaotic relationship, I was the one calling the shots, so I always demanded he come to see me.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
I had no idea what to expect, but somehow, the place fit into my perception of him perfectly.
An extensive chunk of open space with furnishings and colors I would imagine Queen Elizabeth herself favored. The lack of walls and vast hallways surprised me. The place looked like a repurposed warehouse. I’d always imagined Devon in a sprawling, dark manor—cluttered with family portraits and expensive yet stunningly ugly antiques. Then I remembered he didn’t like closed spaces. He was somewhat of a claustrophobic.
It was a real upgrade from my tiny apartment.
I was feeling particularly nice toward Devon that day. He’d made sure to come to my apartment every day since Frankgate and ensured that I came.
On his dick, on his tongue, on his fingers.
You name it, he shoved it in me.
I hadn’t broached the subject of exclusivity, but I made a mental note to let him know that I was not down with him dipping his sausage in every sauce available in the all-you-can-eat Boston dating scene buffet.
I spent the four days leading up to the move trying to convince Persy, Aisling, Sailor, and Ross that I was definitely, definitely not in a relationship with Devon.
Luckily, the Frank story made it easy to explain how we’d become roommates.
Everyone thought Devon was a dreamboat for providing me shelter, and that I was a complete and utter moron not to kiss his feet and beg him to wed me.
Things looked like they were finally settling down.
I would even go as far as to say I was getting comfortable in one of Devon’s spare rooms.
He sneaked into my bedroom every night since I’d moved in, but I always kicked him out to the master bedroom afterward, citing that I would never be able to sleep with a man next to me.
During my time here, I caught glimpses of conversations between him and his mother. She called him frequently, sometimes a few times a day. He always seemed polite and reserved, friendly—even though, it had to be said, Ursula Whitehall sounded like a giant pain in the ass.