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“No.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Will you stay with me for tonight?”
She faltered into complete stillness. “The entire night?”
“Yes.”
He braced himself on his elbows, his shoulders grew tensed, and her throat ached as she recognized he waited for words that would possibly wound him. In answer Ava tightened her arm around his back and kissed him.
Nothing in Ava’s life had ever felt so right.
The storm raged on outside, and the rain slapped against the bedroom windows like pebbled. Nothing mattered as they lost themselves in their mutual desire for each other and Devlin made love to her raw, passionate and untamed, for the rest of the night.
Chapter Five
Ava stirred sleepily on the bed. The unfamiliar scents of erotic male musk and sandalwood, combined with the headboard at her head, jolted her fully awake. It was morning and the sun bathed the room in a soft yellow glow. She glanced at the bedside clock and gasped. It was almost nine.
She scrambled from the bed, trying to find her clothes, but couldn’t, so she opened the closet and grabbed one of Devlin’s shirts. With quick movements she drew it on and peeked it the mirror. Her hair was a mess. After quickly combing it through with her fingers, she went outside of the room, following the scent of cooking to the breakfast nook.
She leaned in the doorway and watched Devlin bustling around in only a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. Desire curled deep inside of her at the sight. How did he arouse her so easily?
She hadn’t gotten the chance last night to study the tattoos that covered most of his forearms. He only had one more on his left shoulder. A sudden memory of them together, in a shop in Aberdeen—the next town over—laughing while getting their ink, burned into her mind.
The memory went just as fast as it came.
He placed pancakes on a plate, along with scrambled eggs, and she swallowed hard when she saw that they were her favorites. Blueberry. She bit her lip as she realized that all the stuff she loved to eat for breakfast was laid out on the table.
He knew so much about her. He certainly knew her body. They had not gotten a chance to talk at all in the night. Instead, they had made love five times, starting in the living room and ending in the bedroom. She had never dreamt she could come so continuously. There were times he had been so intense and rough that he had scared her. Yet within the fear her craving for both him and his body never left her. Then he had changed like the weather and become tender and so gentle her heart had ached with yearning. Then they had become playful and they had tumbled together in mock wrestling laughing and giggling, contented in the sensual bubble they had created.
“Are you going to stay in the doorway the entire morning?”
She laughed lightly. It was shocking how comfortable she felt with him. It was as if her body knew what her mind did not. She went around the table and sat, then inhaled the aroma of the pancakes, eggs and bacon, before taking a sip of her orange juice. But the best smell in the whole kitchen was Devlin, it felt intoxicating and she wondered if she could be addicted to his fragrance.
“I have a butterfly tattoo on my lower back and one on my left shoulder blade. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten it. But I just had an image of us visiting Joe Joe’s shop.”
He chuckled and winked at her. “You had always wanted one. That day you dared me to get it.”
She smiled. “My parents weren’t happy about it. In fact, that was one of the first things they asked me when I left the hospital. I just . . . couldn’t remember.”
He stared at her, the smile slowly fading from his face. “It was July last year. You’d just graduated and wanted to do something wild and fun. Not only did you want to take a walk on the wild side, you were appalled I did not have any ink. So we got them together.”
His words were like an artist’s brush, vividly painting the images in her mind.
“We rode your bike,” she said softly. “And I wore your black leather jacket, the one with the tear on the inside.” She had loved that jacket. He’d not replaced it, not for sentimental reasons, but because his family had been poor and he’d used his money for greater needs. Her throat tightened.
“You remembered.”
“Barely, but I am very grateful for it.”
“The scar on your lower back . . . it’s from the accident?”
Last night, he had traced it with his fingertip, and then his tongue, as he’d taken her from behind on his bed. She swallowed, ignoring the arousal that teased at her. “Yes . . . from the wreck. It is one of my two scars from it.” She pushed back her hair to show him a thin line on her scalp. “This is my only other injury.”
“How long were you hospitalized for?”
