Their hands were soft, not calloused like Devlin’s. While many worked out at expensive gyms, there wasn’t one whose physique could compare to his. And most of them were stressed, which was to be expected. Whether it was real estate, stock trading, or some other lofty career, the stakes were always high and they constantly dealt with large sums of money.
As she moved through the hallway she stopped to admire an antique etching of an old western town, but a short passage a few feet away caught her attention. Peering around the wall she spied double doors, and wondered if they led into his bedroom. Unable to resist a peek she moved quickly forward and took hold of the door handle—then paused, pondering whether or not she should continue. Finally throwing caution to the wind she pushed them open and stepped inside.
A chunky, dark wood, four post bed with antique nightstands on either side stood proudly between two paned windows boasting tan, suede drapes. Spying a chest of drawers against the wall to her right, she spotted another door she assumed led into his bathroom.
“Do you like it?”
Startled, she spun around and found Devlin standing in the doorway.
“So? Do you?”
“Uh, yeah, it’s very…uh…you,” she replied, trying to ignore the sudden thumping of her heart.
“Why are you so nervous?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes you are, and it’s because I’ve caught you nosin’ around?”
“Sorry, I was just curious.”
“Don’t you know what they say about curiosity?”
“It killed the cat?”
“Well, yes, but there’s something else. It’s also considered the lust of the mind.”
“The lust of the mind,” she repeated softly. “I’ve never heard that.”
“Portia, you’ve been a bad girl,” he murmured, moving slowly towards her. “What do you think I should do about that?”
* * *
As Devlin stared into Portia’s eyes he saw both excitement and trepidation. But most of all recognized her hot, carnal longing.
She wanted him.
All of him.
Just as he wanted her.
“Nothing to say?”
“Uh, I’m sorry, honest.”
“I should punish you,” he said, placing his finger under her chin and tilting up her head. “Maybe I won’t give you what you want.”
“Which is what?”
“You want me to kiss you, and that’s just for starters,” he whispered, moving his lips to her ear. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I…I…”
“But before we go any further, tell me why you were crying,” he murmured, shifting his head back to stare down at her.
“Crying? When?”
“Just before you hit my truck. I saw it on the video. You were wipin’ tears from your face. What happened?”