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“Whoopy me,” I groaned. I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me to marry him. I was exhausted and sleep-deprived enough to consider it.
“Time to take a shower.”
“Tomorrow,” I garbled.
“It is tomorrow,” he argued. “And Google told me your ovulation window is only twelve to twenty-four hours. Get into the shower so we can fulfill our contract.”
Swiftly, and without making a sound, Devon picked me up honeymoon-style and carried me along my apartment. Finally, I thought, my eyes still closed. The bastard was taking me to my bed. We’d do it tomorrow, or the next day, or …
What the hell?
My eyes snapped open when I was met with icy needles of frozen water. Disoriented, I found myself lying on the floor of my shower. Both showerheads were spitting at me. I looked around frantically, spotting Devon standing on the other side of the glass door, his narrow hip leaning against the wall, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing mouthwatering, veiny forearms.
The devil’s smirk was smeared across his face.
I scrambled out of my already ruined dress, which became heavy with liquid, dumping it with a slap on the floor beside me.
“I’m going to kill you!” I clawed at the door like a wet feline, fully awake—and naked—now. I was about to pry it open and pounce on him. He moved over to the other side of the glass door, pulling the handle and keeping it shut.
“Kill me later. First, I need you clean and alert.”
“The only touching we’ll be doing when I get out of here is me stabbing you in the face.” I bared my teeth through the glass.
I didn’t remember him half as exasperating when we had casual sex. Did he have a shitty personality transplant or something?
“Angry sex is the best sex.” Devon brushed his thumb over his lower lip, throwing me over the edge of my sanity.
“I’ll freeze to death!” I was trying to bargain now.
“I’ll write you a lovely obituary.”
“You can’t be that heartless!” I banged on the glass door with my fist.
“Of course I can.” He smiled cordially, like a host in a Michelin-star restaurant. “Besides, diamonds are made under pressure.”
“Let go of the handle.”
“Wash first.”
“Or what?” I felt crazy with the need to retaliate for what he was doing to me. My mind began working overtime. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that. No way.
“Or this will be the only way you’ll get wet tonight. And threats aside, we both know you’ve been dreaming about this since the night you threw me out all those years ago.”
His words made me glance down to his slacks. To the impressive tent that awaited my attention. My eyes snapped back up to him. “Sorry, pal. My time with you didn’t chart in the first twenty memorable fucks I’ve had.”
Devon grinned, little crinkles of happiness decorating his jewel-colored eyes. “Liar.”
He turned around and strolled out of the bathroom, all confidence and suaveness. I seized the opportunity and launched out of the shower, jumping in front of him, and blocking his way. I pushed him back toward the bathroom, my body soaking his tux with water.
“Not so fast, Duke of Cuntington. I believe it’s your tur—”
Before I could finish the sentence, he pushed me against the wall, and covered my mouth in a punishing, bruising kiss.
His hands roamed my back, running down to my ass and cupping it with strong fingers. He pushed me against his erection through his pants. The air around us buzzed with rage and frustration and darkness. We were both starved.
He tore his mouth from mine, rolling his thumb over my lips, erotically prying them open.
“Now, now, Sweven. Don’t be so upset. I knew I needed to wake you up to be inside you, and touching you before I boarded a plane to England was of paramount importance.”
“When are you leaving?” I darted my tongue out to swirl it over his thumb. His lips parted, a half-drunk look forming on his Adonis face.
My fingers unbuttoned his slacks. My body lit up like a live wire.
“Tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Business.” His mouth dipped between us, to my breasts, and he took one of my nipples between his teeth, gazing up and smiling at me before it disappeared inside his mouth when he sucked.
“But what if we miss my ovulation window?” I let my head roll backward, a low moan escaping me. I threaded my fingers through his hair, the intense pleasure of being in his arms coming back to me in full force.
Devon’s lips quirked. “Then I’m afraid we’ll have to go through another month of fucking one another. Remember, you have five months before I discard your lovely arse.”
His cock sprang free from his slacks as his knuckles brushed my slit. I knew he wasn’t going to finger me. It wasn’t Devon’s style. There was something outrageously proper about the way he fucked. He screwed you in a way that felt both clean and dirty. It was why I was so obsessed with him—in bed—in the first place. My body trembled with anticipation the way it had all those years ago, when he cornered me in Cillian Fitzpatrick’s cabin and dared me to let him make me come five times in one night. He’d delivered on that promise. In spades.
