Page 52 of Accidentally Vacationed with an Incubus

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “To torment me?” I murmured. “To remind me that I may have served my time—but they’ll never forget?”

Devlin’s lips thinned, his eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous. “There’s a camera on the porch,” he said, his voice tight. “Can you access it? See who came to the door?”

I shook my head. “We used to be able to, but BooDini was tricked into letting some burglars in one summer. When the footage showed it helping them steal our stuff, it sulked and got rid of the hard drive.” Devlin’s lips parted, clearly about to say something, but I cut him off before he could. “Look, Devlin, it doesn’t matter. I expected some backlash from the community.” I inhaled sharply. “Can you just... put it away somewhere?"

He hesitated, the strain in his jaw telling me exactly how much he didn’t want to let this go. But finally, with a reluctant exhale, he rose from his seat, crossed the kitchen, and shoved the file into one of the already cluttered drawers. Returning to his seat, he let out a frustrated breath, his fingers drumming against the table before he muttered, “I just don’t like the idea of a stranger showing up at the house.”

I arched a mock-accusatory brow. “Oh, so it’s not okay for a stranger to drop off something in the dead of night, but it is perfectly fine for one to break in, jerk off in the bath, and then offer the owner a bargain to help her write the sex scenes of her book?”

My comment was meant to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect. Devlin stiffened, his shoulders going rigid, a flush of red creeping up his neck. “About that...” He swallowed hard. “I owe you an apology.”

“Huh?” was all I managed.

His bourbon eyes flicked down, like he couldn’t bear to meet my gaze. “I crossed a boundary last night. And I’m sorry. I absolutely understand if you want me to leave.”

“Devlin, what the hell are you talking about?”

His eyes finally drifted toward mine. “Last night,” he said slowly, “when we were doing the scene... I was supposed to be thinking about Mina...” His voice trailed off, his lips clamping shut, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the rest.

A traitorous, yearning little voice in my head finished his sentence for him.

But instead, I was thinking about you.

“You really don’t need to apologize—”

“I do, Jen.” Devlin’s voice was firm. “We’re supposed to be keeping this professional—or as professional as possible, given the circumstances and that meddling ghost—and it wasn’t fairof me to stray outside of... er... outside of the parameters of the scene,” he finished, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry—”

“Meat Loaf!” I squeaked, cutting him off.

Devlin stilled, his face furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“I was just checking if the safe word still worked—y’know, the one Ididn’tuse last night because Iwasn’tuncomfortable—and I would now like to formally Meat Loaf this conversation.”

Devlin’s lips tugged at the corners, amusement flickering through his lingering guilt. “That’s... not really how safe words work, Jen.”

“Devlin, you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable,” I reaffirmed, watching as his features softened with relief. “In fact,” I continued, my pulse picking up, “I was thinking about it last night, and... as we move on to the next scenes, I don’t think it would be very fair to either of us if we were to, um, find you a date but still continue working on the book like this.”

His expression shifted. “Ah. Youdowant me to leave?”

“Actually...” I inhaled sharply, forcing down the rising urge to babble. “I was going to ask... what your thoughts were on dating...me?”

Devlin’s mouth opened, then snapped shut as he tried and failed to find the words to say.

Oh no... here it comes... the verbal vomit...

“I totally understand if you say no. I mean, I know I’m not exactly a catch, and who wants to go out with a convicted criminal, anyway? Actually, now that I’ve said it out loud, it’s a ridiculous idea. You could do so much better than me”—I shoved my chair back, the deafening squeak slicing through the air—“because, like, not dating, we can keep things professional, like you said. And, you know, we’d just stick to the script. Whereas dating, well, things happen, we’d go off script”—I took a step back, pressing myself into the doorframe, my body poised to bolt—“which isn’t, like, a bad thing because I’d still be drawing fromexperience. I just thought, y’know, it might be an idea. But I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, and—” I glanced wildly around, grasping at any excuse. “Is that the time? I really need to go and do some writing—”

“I’d love to date you,” Devlin said, the look on his face one of disbelieving relief.

My own relief crashed over me in waves as Devlin rose to his feet and closed the space between us. He lifted his arm, casually resting it against the opposite side of the doorframe, his broad shoulders caging me in, his hair just barely brushing the top of the frame. His eyes darkened, locking onto mine with a slow, deliberate intensity that sent my pulse hammering so hard I was certain I was just a few thumps away from my heart exploding altogether.

“You could have stopped my babbling at any point,” I said, desperate to focus on anything other than how close he was.

“I like the way you babble,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

Before I could respond, his hand was on me—his fingers cupping my jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of my lower lip in a way that had my knees quivering beneath me. He tilted my face up, his gaze flicking between my eyes and my lips, giving me a chance to pull away.

A chance to Meat Loaf my way out of his touch.

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