Page 53 of Devil in Her Details

Her finger found the center of his chest, slowly dragging downward. Just the one finger. Just to see. His skin jumped faintly beneath her touch, and Lilly found that deeply, privately satisfying.

She kept her eyes on her own hand, watching it as though it belonged to someone else. Her heart gave a single, violent knock in her breast.

“What are you doing?” he said roughly.

She smirked. “Seeing if you’re bruised anywhere else.” Her gaze finally lifted to his, and she almost gasped at what she saw. Pure, raw desire. Slowly, she withdrew her hand and cleared her throat. “There doesn’t seem to be any other bruising. In any case, stay if you want to stay. What?” Lilly added when his brow rose.

“I thought you’d try to kick me out.”

“Can one kick a mountain?” She reached for the tin lid and pressed it shut with perhaps more poise than she felt. “Besides, I got you involved in my affairs. I can’t simply abandon you, I suppose.” She leveled a finger at him. “But you cannot ask me for payments anymore.”

Devilry rose in his eyes. “I could compensate you.”

“For what?”

He tilted his head, considering her with the particular expression of a man turning over a problem he was finding increasingly enjoyable. “Allowing me to hide out here.”

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, really. Did your brothers kick you out, and that’s why you followed me here under the guise of protection? I shall play along. Lord knows, I can do with a touch of relief. How shall you compensate me? And let me tell you, I have enough money to last me several lifetimes.” Her eyes narrowed on the beast as he lazily stretched out on her bed. As if he hadn’t beaten three men with his own hands earlier that day. “Nor need for more kisses.”

His gaze roved over her, relaxed. “No kisses? I could give you my firstborn child,” he said, his voice a low, lazy rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very mattress.

Her jaw slackened. His . . . His . . . What?

The retort she’d been prepared to fling died in her throat, replaced by a sudden, vivid, and entirely uninvited image of a child with his dark, haunting eyes and that same teasing grin. For a long, mortifying second, she could only stare at him, her face heating to a shade that surely rivaled the sunset.

Of all the . . . Was he serious?

He said such a thing with such a straight face! And he looked entirely too pleased with himself, watching her flounder.

She smacked him on his arm. Such audacity! “Don’t be outrageous.”

He chuckled. “What can I say, little lynx? You bring out the devil in me.”

“The devil,” Lilly informed him, “is not sleeping in my bedroom.” She glanced toward the door, then back at him. “I don’t know if there are any other rooms prepared.”

“Then where should I sleep?”

She grinned. “I’m certain a man of your considerable resourcefulness will find the perfect spot.”

“The perfect spot is here.”

“Not in my bed.” A woman had to draw the line somewhere.

“On the floor.”

Her brows lifted in skepticism. “The floor? That seems a bit . . .”

“I’ve slept on worse,” he said simply, without any trace of self-pity, a small window into a life she couldn’t fully picture, opening and closing before she could look properly through it. This man . . . with the scar on his cheek, the hardness in his eyes, the casual way he dismissed his own comfort . . . He certainly wouldn’t want or appreciate pity. He might latch himself to the floor just to prove a point.

Should she just prepare a room?

He rose to his feet in one swift motion, muscles shifting with breathtaking grace. “I don’t even need a pillow.”

“I can’t let you sleep on the floor.” She’d toss and turn and worry all night. Plus, the man had been wounded because of her. He needed a good night’s rest.