Wildstar

That was another surprise, to learn he wasn't so gallant a lover, after all.

Pressing light apologetic kisses over her scented skin, he asked her in a voice still husky with passion, "Did I hurt you?"

Still half dazed with sensation, Jess pondered the ques­tion. He had hurt her, but not in the way he meant; not physically. What he had done was far worse. She felt the heat of his cheek against hers, the feathering of his breath as his mouth traced delicate patterns over her face and throat—and she wanted to cry.

"I've thought of sharing this bed with you since the day you turned it over to me," Devlin murmured.

Jess opened her eyes slowly. His look was intent, ex­pectant, as if he were waiting for her to say something. A dark flush of passion stained his cheekbones, and his eyes were dark and smoky. And all her senses were gradually returning.

Appalled at what she had just done, allowed him to do, wanted him to do, she averted her face. She couldn't be­lieve it.

"Get off me," she whispered.

The lips that had been moving upon her flushed face stilled. There was a long silence before he said, "Jess, look at me."

"No." She just wanted him to go away. It shamed her to realize how easily she'd been seduced, how disgracefully she'd behaved, mindlessly tumbling into bed with a man whose only interest in her was whatever use he could make of her at the moment. First he had used her to ac­complish his secret schemes, now he had used her body—

"I'm sorry I was so rough." He reached up to catch her chin, but she flinched and shook off his grasp.

"Get out of my house."

Going rigid, Devlin stared down at her. He couldn't be­lieve that after what had just happened between them, the explosive passion they'd shared, she was kicking him out of her bed. She'd felt the same powerful exaltation, the same keen joy he had, he was certain. In all his experi­ence, he'd never felt anything quite like it. But then, she didn't have the experience to realize how special it had been.

A fierce wave of contrition swept over Devlin. He had wronged Jess. She wasn't a virgin any longer—thanks to him—but she was still very much an innocent. He should have taken more care," shown her more tenderness. She had wronged him, too, with her mistrust, but she hadn't meant what she'd said. She couldn't really believe he'd been in league with Burke. When she'd had time to con­sider, she would realize how absurd her accusations were.

Gently Devlin brushed back a disheveled tendril of blond hair that adorned her forehead, wanting to take back his harshness, wanting to make it up to her—

"Don't touch me." The command was low and raw and filled with self-loathing.

Devlin heard only the loathing—and thought it directed at himself.

"I can't believe I ever trusted you," Jess added almost to herself.

"Jesus, are we back to that again?" The fire of anger that had been momentarily banked in Devlin flamed to life again.

He was still joined to her in the most intimate way pos­sible, still half hard inside her, but he withdrew from her at once, taking care only to be considerate of her tender flesh and to yank down her skirts. Then he rolled off the bed and stood up, rapidly buttoning his trousers.

Jess winced at the throbbing ache between her thighs and rolled onto her side, giving him her back. "We never left it. I can't forget how you lied to me."

"Goddammit, that's enough."

"Or how you used me. You did it then and again just now."

"What are you talking about?"

"You used me to slake your lust."

"Let me tell you something, angel." His voice was deadly. "If all I'd wanted was a piece of tail, I sure as hell wouldn't have come to you. I can find a lot better else­where, believe me."

His mockery cut deep. Jess drew her knees up to her chest, curling into herself. "Then why did you—" She fal­tered, unable to call what they'd just done "making love" when they'd rutted like savage animals. "Why did you take me to bed just now? What motive are you hiding this time? You can't expect me to believe you did it because you want me."

"You're damn right about that, I don't want you. A man wants a woman who's soft and feminine and delicate, one who needs his protection, not one with the balls to take on magnates like Burke—or one who's as bullheadedly blind as you are."

Wounded beyond measure, Jess retorted with a bitter­ness that she'd learned from years of struggling against Burke and all the wealthy, power-hungry, manipulative men like him. "Well, a woman wants someone she can trust not to lie to her. Not someone who's only interested in using her to further his empire."

Devlin swore. Viciously. He'd had enough of being called a liar, of being likened to that sonovabitch Burke. If he stayed one more second he was likely to do something he regretted even more than what he'd just done in bed with her.

Gritting his teeth, he turned and grabbed up his carpet­bag, stalked across the room, and jerked open the door. He slammed it behind him with enough force to shake the small house.