Page 58 of Her Devil

“Guess he’s putting these dirty pants back on then,” I comment. “He can’t sit around here naked whilst they’re washed and dried.”

“You could fill a couple of hours with him naked, I’m sure.” She smirks.

“Tamsin,” I hiss, looking at the bathroom door and listening for the running water. “Nothing is going on. He’s fine, just hiding out from the guys for a bit. He… I… We fell. Okay?”

“You fell?”

“Yes.”

“On your knees?” We both look at my trousers. “And the back of your top… your hair?”

“I fell,” I repeat. “He helped me. That’s all that’s going on.”

“Sure.” She rolls her eyes. “You fell on his cock. Don’t worry, girl. We all do eventually. Enjoy it!”

“Tam,” I grumble as she grins, the sound of the water shutting off having panic rushing through me.

I was supposed to get changed and hide the evidence whilst he was in the shower. Instead, I’ve wasted the time trying to argue some point with Tamsin. Not that it worked.

“Please,” I plead, looking at the bathroom door. “Just drop it.”

She smiles, watching intently as the bathroom door opens, and like some ridiculous rom-com film, Nick appears in a cloud of steam, water dripping from his hair and casting shadows and rivulets down the artwork on his chest.

“Nick,” Tamsin comments, snapping me back into reality as I close my mouth and glower in her direction, her phone in her hand as she types furiously. “You want a glass of wine?” she asks him, looking up.

“Sure,” he agrees, his gaze locked on mine as he marches straight for me. With his back to Tamsin, he drops the towel, grabbing the rough denim and sliding them up his legs.

I can’t hold that stare, everything in me is desperate to look down and absorb all that glorious skin, and his dick. I’ve felt it, the heat, the burn, and I know he’s packing something good. But I’ve not seen it, and I’m not going there, not again. So, instead, I watch Tamsin watch him, whilst his gaze burns through me. It’s awkward, but not nearly as bad as it would be with Tamsin in here whilst we eye-fuck each other.

And without a shadow of a doubt, I know that the second my gaze lowers, that’s what’s going to happen. That itch we scratched isn’t nearly scratched enough. It’s barely taken the surface edge off. I want him, still, and I’m not sure I’d be able to hide it right now either.

“Come on then, lover boy. Red or white?”

He drops that hot gaze over me one last time before turning to acknowledge she’s even here, her gaze no doubt cataloguing each mark and bruise, much like I have been doing.

“Red.”

“Ooh, a man with good taste.” She winks. “I’ve just opened a bottle. Let’s go find you a glass and give my girl a minute. Looks like she needs one.”

She’s not fucking wrong, but he hesitates. That magnetism coils in my stomach when it looks like he’s going to close the distance between us and kiss me, until he sighs and follows her out, his shoulders dropping.

It’s like I’ve been holding my breath this entire time when the door closes behind them and I sink onto my bed. I don’t even know what the hell I was thinking.I wasn’t.He’s a controlling jerk.Way too much testosterone. But, fuck, when I thought someone had hurt him, when I thought he was in pain, the panic that gripped me was ridiculous, unreasonable, and completely undeniable.

I drop onto the edge of the bed, finally facing myself in the mirror opposite and seeing exactly what Tamsin was talking about. No there aren’t any leaves sticking out of my hair, it is brushed after all, but the post-sex glow is irrefutable, the tear in my jacket sleeve uncounted for, and the mud caked into my trousers without justification.

If I thought there was any chance Tamsin, or anyone else, was going to believe that I fell over, I was living in some fucking dream world.Never going to happen.

With a defeated sigh, I unfasten my heels, refusing to acknowledge the state of them, and slide into a pair of skinny jeans and a clean top, after a proper clean up in the bathroom. The steam is just starting to tease an edge of frizz in my hair when I make a swift exit, doing my best to not think about Nick, naked, in my shower, or sitting wearing my body wash right now.Fuck.

Grabbing my phone from my bag, I steal a breath. It was just sex. It meant nothing. I nod my head once, like that fortifies the thought in my mind, dumping the dirty clothes and the memories hidden with them in the wash basket and heading into the living room.

It looks like the film has been completely forgotten as the girls rally around Nick, fussing over him unnecessarily.

“Seriously, guys? He’s fine,” I say, heading into the kitchen and grabbing a wine glass.

I can feel the heat of his stare following me as I pull out a bottle of wine from the fridge and fill my glass, agreement tumbling from the girls. “He sure is,” and, “Uh, hmmm.”

His smirk is front and centre as I dare to look through my lashes at him. The couple of hours that have passed and the decent lighting in here show the myriad of bruising coming out, but it hasn’t held him back so far, why would it now? His gaze drops to my glass and back before he idly comments, “Heathen.”

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