Page 90 of Say My Name

I need to regroup. The line separating my undercover work and real life has blurred. When I’m around him, I can’t distinguish between the two. I can’t believe he’s off trying to solve this crime on his own. What does he think he’ll prove? Is this some masculine hero-complex crap? I want to call Finn with all the new information Devereaux gave me, but I can’t chance him overhearing me. And a text just won’t do.

Vin was right about needing to stay here, yet I’m sure he didn’t have in mind that I’d almost sleep with the suspect.

Not that I suspect Devereaux Huxley of anything now, but still. I’d lose my job if anyone ever found out.

I plop down on the white duvet and glance around my spacious room. Gray walls with thick white trim serve as the perfect backdrop to photos of white swans swimming in a tranquil lake. White lamps rest on slate-gray accent tables, and a stone fireplace is across from the expansive window that overlooks a garden outside.

It’s breathtaking.

Yet, I’m too frazzled to enjoy the accommodations here. Devereaux is trying to be some modern-day vigilante likeBatman, and I won’t let him get himself hurt.

Speaking of, a knock sounds on the door.

“I grabbed your bag if you want to take a shower.”

I scoot off the bed and cross the hardwoods to open the door a smidge. “Thank you.”

“Sleep well,” he says.

“You too.” I take the bag from him, and he lingers a moment before abruptly turning and striding away.

I head into the en suite bathroom and set the bag on the white marble countertop.

While I go through the motions of showering, I decide to snoop around the house and see if I can find that business card. We could trace that number. Devereaux said he’d let me see it, but that was before I found out he’s trying to solve things on his own. If Devereaux still has the card, It might be in an office or study.

I finish my shower, and once I’m back in the guest room, I change into my sleep shorts and baby doll shirt.

I tiptoe out of the room and quietly make my way down the stairs into the living area. This house really is stunning with its antique feel but updated features. The fireplace in the living area is on, and I startle when I spot Devereaux sitting in a wingback armchair near the roaring fire. He looks despondent.

“Are you ok?” I ask, startling him as well in the process.

“I should have protected them.”

I pad across the floor and kneel before him, placing my hand over his on the armrest. “You can’t blame yourself.”

He moves his hand, like he doesn’t want my touch. He’s a very confusing man, leading me to think he wants me, only to reject me. Hot and cold. Cold and hot.

“You should get some sleep,” he says.

I stand. “Don’t treat me like that.”

His eyes blaze into mine. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a child who you must shield from bad things. You didn’t need to come and rescue me.”

He laughs. “You think I should have let you stay at your place and fight off the killer alone?”

“I’m a lot stronger than I look.” He has no idea the self-defense training I’ve had. “I just might surprise you.”

His eyes study me. Harsh. Unrelenting. Like he’s not buying a word of what I’m trying to sell him. His hand is so close to my knee, and I bring it an inch closer to where my leg is resting against the arm of the chair.

His fingers take the bait and lazily trace over my skin, moving up to the inside of my thigh.

I can barely stand, teetering as my desire grows.

Devereaux grips my thigh, bringing me closer. “What kind of game are you playing, Swan?”

“I’m not playing anything.” Much. If he knows something about this case, I want to keep him talking.

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