Page 52 of Devanté
Our server came and it gave both of us a break from the electric tension mounting around our quiet booth. It was dense and unavoidable. My mouth was sand and my head was cotton. The last time I bared my soul to Blake, we didn’t talk for eight years afterward. I wasn’t the type of man to scare easily but the thought of her rejecting me again had me terrified.
We placed our orders and then we were alone again. Blake stared at the table cloth, smoothing it over and over with her fingers as if she could iron out the thoughts in her brain by doing so. Her lips parted and I watched her start then stop before anything came out. I leaned forward a little just to catch every word she let slip out.
“You said to tell you how I feel, right?” Her eyes were cast down, her thick lashes hiding the expression in her topaz pools.
“Yeah, please. I’d love to hear it.”
“I’ve had a crush on you since…forever.” She let out a small laugh. “I always thought about you in ways I shouldn’t have. I used to beat myself up a lot for feeling the way I did about you because you were my best friend. You were supposed to be like my brother.” She swallowed and drew in a thin breath. “Every time I looked at you, my mind wandered. I never thought you could see me as more than a friend. I was the fat girl. Fat girls never get happy endings.” When she lifted her eyes to look at me, they were wet with tears she refused to let fall.
I’d never felt my chest twist the way I did when Blake cried. It happened every single time. She cried and my ribs cracked themselves open to give her my heart as long it meant the tears would stop. That’s how I ended up proposing when we were eight-years-old with a damn Ring Pop. I had to stop her tears.
It was like watching stars fall from the sky.
I cleared my throat and held my hand up in the air. In seconds, the server was at our table. “Can you have our meals sent to room 985?” I asked, ignoring the shocked look on Blake’s face.
“Yes sir, Mr. Morgan.”
“Thank you, and please…call me Devanté.”
“Okay, Devanté. I’ll have your meals and a bottle of white wine sent to your room right away.”
“Thank you,” I smiled and shook his hand. When he left, I looked at Blake, who still wore a frown crafted from confusion. “Let’s go.”
“Devanté, what the hell?”
“Let’s. Go.” My voice left no room for questions. She sighed then grabbed her purse and stood. I guided her out with my hand on the small of her back.
“Where are we going?” Her voice was a harsh whisper once we were in the lobby of the hotel.
“To my room. I can’t have this conversation with you in a restaurant. I can’t watch you cry in public.” I cupped her face in my hands. Her fingers curled around my wrists and I expected her to pull away from her face but she didn’t. Instead, she rested there like she’d finally found a spot to land. She nodded and I grabbed her hand, threading my fingers between hers.
Something as small as our palms being pressed together sent heat spiraling through my veins. We stepped into an empty elevator and I brought her hand to my lips to kiss her knuckles. I wanted to kiss more but the doors were opening.
A wide-eyed Molly stood on the other side of the golden elevator doors. My face fell into a frown. “Molly? Where are you headed?”
“Um…out. With Noa…” She rushed those last two words out before stepping onto the elevator while Blake and I stepped off. “Wait…what are you two doing?” She wagged her finger between us but the doors were closing. I smiled at her and waved goodbye before tugging Blake down the hall to my suite.
I took her to the couch and stared at her for a while, letting the silence speak first.
“I didn’t bring you here to fuck you.” I needed her to know that I didn’t have an ulterior motive.
“Wow. You think I’d let you fuck me, Devanté?” The humor tucked between her words made me smile. Once she was away from people, she was herself. Sarcasm and dry humor added to her flavor. I couldn’t get enough of it.
“I think you would if I touched the right places…kissed you the right way.” I wet my lips then smirked. Her eyes widened and I laughed. “See? You weren’t expecting that, were you, Miss Remington? Stop playing with fire if you don’t want to get burned.”
I wasn’t prepared for the look in her eyes to be so full of desire. It smoldered behind gold-flecked topaz. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and shrugged one shoulder.
“I’ve been known to have soot-stained fingertips.” The column of her throat dipped when she swallowed.
“I don’t believe you,” I said holding her gaze, resolution in my stare. “Let me see.” Anticipation tightened screws in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
She held her hand up, showing me her fingertips. I pulled it closer to my face, studying each one. I pressed a kiss to her palm. A rose for her to hold. Then I pulled her pointer finger into my mouth and tasted her skin.
It was honey and cinnamon. Sweet and hot.
Blake’s gasp was quiet and small but it stirred things in my chest. It made my dick stiff. I took her middle finger in my mouth next, swirling my tongue around the tip. When I noticed her full lips parted to draw in more air, I pulled her finger from my mouth and tugged her closer, fastening kisses to her inner wrist while she squirmed in her seat.
“Devanté,” she breathed. I paused and looked into her eyes. “I can’t…we can’t…”
