Page 80 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Seven

He lifted a brow. “Like Gabe?”

Her mouth fell open. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh, trust me, I heard it all from good-natured, well-meaning gossipy locals.”

“What else did you hear?” she asked suspiciously.

He ticked them off his fingers. “You dated Gabe hot and heavy for a while, then broke up. Then you roomed with a woman named Lily for six months which was supposedly your transitional. Then you broke up and tried to get back with Gabe, but he was in love with Bella so you let him go.”

“I cannot believe this,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I hate small towns.”

“It was fascinating. Want to expand on any of it?”

Devon rolled her eyes and marched toward the kitchen to grab two seltzers. “No. Except Lily and I were never involved in that type of relationship. She’s a childhood friend who was going through some stuff and moved in with me for a while. Someone saw us hugging and me kissing her on the lips—a friendly peck in greeting—and that was it for the rumor mill.”

“Did it bother you?”

“No, I didn’t really care. No one was judging me. At least, no one I deal with on a personal basis.”

She turned, ready to hand him the seltzer, but the look in his eyes made her pause. Immediately, she grew damp between herthighs. He stalked across the room and stood before her. She shivered.

“The more time I spend with you, the more I want you.”

Slowly, he took the can and touched it to her lips. The iciness burned, but he rolled it softly, barely brushing her mouth. Moving it downward, he touched her nipples, coasted down her stomach and kicked her legs apart.

Then pressed the can between her legs.

She cried out, and he yanked her against him, kissing her wildly. They sunk down to the floor and as she tumbled on top of his hard body, Devon wondered how she’d ever be able to watch him leave.

* * * *

After taking out Bear and settling him in, they made it to bed.

“Tell me, flower girl. How did I get lucky enough to find you single?” He pressed kisses to her stomach, her breasts, worshiping each inch of skin with his lips and tongue and teeth. He savored her tiny moans and the way she arched into his touch. She made him ravenous for more, to devour her whole, even though he’d claimed her twice already.

“I could say the same for you.” Suddenly, her head shot up and her gaze narrowed. “Wait—you are single, right?”

“Yes. I’m not a cheater.” He bit gently into her inner thigh for punishment. She curled her toes and stretched into the pain. Hmm, he’d need to explore that more. Devon kept surprising him in and out of bed. He had a feeling he could spend a lifetime being surprised.

“Sorry, just checking. I’ve been happy single and I’ve been happy in relationships. It’s not like I’m desperate to get married or have kids.” She paused, but he stayed silent, wanting her to share more. “I’ve always felt that no matter how my life turned, Iwould be okay with it. But lately, I’ve been thinking about more. It’s not about society establishments, or watching my friends all settle down, either. I just want to share my life with someone. Someone to be with me through the ups and downs, the travel, the laughs, the tears. To watch Netflix with, or tell my bad dreams to. I’m not looking for someone to fill me up. I’ve filled myself up.”

“You want someone to stand beside you,” he said, staring up her gorgeous naked body to look her in the eyes.

Relief flickered over her delicate features. “Exactly.”

“You deserve that, Devon. I think we all do, especially when you build a beautiful life. Why wouldn’t you want to share it?”

He loved the way she expressed herself. Jameson found himself looking at things differently when he was around her. He liked who he was better, too.

Her fingers coasted over the simple black rose tattooed on his wrist. The startled expression on her face when they made love the second time haunted him. She’d studied his ink with an intense curiosity, her gaze hesitant as she realized it was a rose, and probably for another woman. There were no initials or name. Just a simple, elegant scrawl so he’d always remember.

Finally, she’d asked one simple question. Was it for another woman?

He’d given the only answer possible.

Yes.

Nodding, she’d dropped the subject and never brought it up again. But her fingers burned as she outlined the petals and stalk, along with the one tiny thorn adorning the stem. Jameson was beginning to wonder if the memory he’d inked into his skin had been a foretelling. A change from bittersweet grief to the most dangerous emotion of all.

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