Page 72 of Accidentally Vacationed with an Incubus

The moment we entered the bathroom, I inhaled deeply, the scent of lavender wrapping around us in thick, comforting wafts. BooDini had worked its magic—the tub had doubled in size, filled to the brim with swirling, shimmering water. Dozens of candles flickered along every available surface, casting a soft, golden glow over the room.

Devlin set me down gently, his fingers slow and deliberate as he peeled away my soiled clothes, his gaze dark and unreadable. A small, teasing smile tugged at his lips as he let me return the favor, his muscles shifting beneath my fingertips as I undressed him piece by piece.

Once bare, he lifted me again, carrying me toward the tub with the same ease as before.

The moment I settled into the water, the heat licked at my skin, loosening every aching muscle. Devlin slipped in behind me, pulling me flush against his chest, his arms looping around my waist as the water lapped around us.

I exhaled a slow, aching breath. He washard. The solid length of him pressed against my lower back. Need flared through me, and before I could stop myself, my fingers dipped beneath the surface, reaching for him—only for his hands to catch mine, stopping me in one smooth movement.

“Relaxing first,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Fondling second, little witch.”

I made a sound of protest—one that turned into a low, breathless moan as his fingers found my shoulders, kneading into the knots with slow, practiced precision. Devlin seemed to revel in every moment of the bath, from lathering my hair with slow, indulgent strokes to kneading every stubborn knot from my muscles with those wickedly skilled hands.

I, however, was only granted the privilege of running a loofah over him—strictly no massages—on account of his intense ticklishness, which resulted in bouts of uncontrollable giggles every time I so much as attempted to press a finger into his taut muscles.

After what felt like hours, we drifted into an easy stillness, stretched out on opposite ends of the tub. My fingers traced lazy, absentminded circles on his exposed knee, while he dragged a knuckle along the sole of my foot, sending little shivers up my spine.

A satisfied moan slipped from my lips. This incubus hadmagicfingers.

As if reading my thoughts, Devlin smirked. “See? Itoldyou—I couldn’t make you moan like that if I had limp spaghetti fingers."

Usually, attempting to be seductive would leave me a blubbering, anxious mess. But right now? I was in such a deep, blissed-out haze that I had no trouble at all cocking an eyebrow, voice low and smooth as I purred, “I’d have to experience both if I were to make a fair judgment.”

Devlin’s grin turned wicked as he shifted, pulling his legs from my side and kneeling at the other end of the bath. He still held my leg aloft, his grip firm yet teasing as he leaned over me, trailing a slow, deliberate path of kisses along my calf. Each press of his lips sent little sparks racing beneath my skin, my muscles tensing, anticipation curling deep in my belly.

“I’m nothing if not an accommodating demon,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.

His lips traveled higher, heat blooming wherever they touched. Then, with a smooth motion, he hooked my leg over his shoulder, his fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of my thigh as he spread my knees apart. My breath shuddered, my heart pounded against my ribs as his mouth claimed mine in a deep, searing kiss. His body pressed flush against me, his length sliding through my folds, teasing with every veiny inch of him that moved against my slick heat.

When the thick head of him brushed past my clit, a jolt of electricity shot through me, and I gasped against his lips, my fingers clutching at his shoulders.

His eager movement sent the bathwater surging over the rim in a great wave, splashing onto the tiled floor with an unholyslosh.

There was a beat of silence, followed by a rustle of sheets and the creak of the door.

BooDini, for propriety’s sake, remained on the other side of the door—except for one balled-up sheet-fist, which shook violently at us before waving in what I could only assume was an exasperated scolding.

Before I could even sputter out an explanation, the bathwater vanished, leaving us completely dry. For good measure, BooDini wrapped towels snugly around each of us with offended efficiency before retreating, the door snapping shut behind it.

Devlin and I, still entangled in the most erotic position I’d ever found myself in—if you discounted the sudden presence of towels—locked eyes.

And then we dissolved into laughter. Deep, uncontrollable, breathless laughter.

Each belly-shaking vibration from Devlin sent a ripple of heat and want flooding through me.

Finally, still chuckling, Devlin let go of my leg, his touch lingering as he pulled himself away. Without a word, he stepped out of the bath, the last of the water droplets sliding down his sculpted chest, his skin flushed from the heat. Then he turned, offering me his hand. The second my fingers laced with his, I was weightless—lifted effortlessly into his arms.

Yeah, being carried by Devlin was now my favorite mode of transport.

I giggled, breathless as he carried me out of the bathroom, the hard press of his body against mine making my skin thrum as he made his way to my room. Then his steps faltered. His eyes widened slightly as he took in our surroundings. And that was when I realized—this was the first time Devlin had ever seen the inside of my childhood bedroom.

“You never told me you had a library in here,” Devlin mused, his eyes flicking over the towering bookshelf. With a playful grin, he set me down in front of the shelves, keeping his hands on my waist for just a moment longer than necessary. “Though I suppose it makes sense that a writer would be an avid reader too.”

“My parents owned a bookshop back in my coven,” I said, brushing my fingers over the worn spines. To my surprise, forthe first time in almost a decade, the words didn’t carve a sharp, aching hole in my chest. Instead, the memory settled over me like a faded warmth, familiar but not unbearable. “I loved to read. And I’d always dreamed of taking over their shop when they retired—spending my days surrounded by my favorite books while writing my own.”

Devlin let out a dreamy sigh. “That sounds like the perfect life.”

I smirked. “You dream of owning a bookshop too?” The idea of sharing something so personal with him felt strangely intimate.

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