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My finger mindlessly swipes up. “Maybe petty girls. If I unfollow her, she wins, and I look like the bad guy.”
“Or not unfollowing her makes her think you’ll forgive her someday.”
I shrug. Maybe someday I will. Life’s too short for grudges.
“Is that what you do? Just unfollow and delete all the girls in your past?”Now I come off petty bringing up his player ways.
His sigh lets me know he’s aggravated, but he remains languid in his reply. “No, I don’t do drama and relationships, remember? All the girls I’ve hung out with know the deal going in, so there’s no hard feelings in the end.”
Pfft. “That explains why your phone’s always ringing off the hook. All the ladies trying to shoot their shots, huh?”
“Mmm-hmm, because I’m so irresistible.” As Devin situates his pillow, he curls on his side, facing me. “As a matter of fact, fair warning, I’m not putting up a pillow wall, so try to keep your hands to yourself.” He’s joking based on the upturn of his mouth and teasing in his eyes, but his words gouge his rejection in further.
Why did he have to go there? Why’dIhave to make a jibe about his ladies? We’d finally gotten to a more comfortable place again. We’re really good at screwing up a good thing.
“Trust me, Hotshot. I don’t need Claire’s sloppy seconds.” Plugging my phone in, I shut off the bedside lamp and curl onto my side, facing away from him.
Blanketed in darkness, blackout curtains covering the windows, a heaviness settles into my chest. From Devin’s unintentional dig to my uncharacteristic hormonal outbursts to the slow motion oncoming traffic that plays on repeat. With no other distraction to clear my thoughts, tears sting my eyes. I swallow the lump in my throat. I cannot let Devin hear me cry.
Why can’t I get a hold of my emotions? Maybe it’s my period. I’m not in love with Devin. I didn’t die today. I’m days away from a fresh start at an amazing school. But it’s like every worry, doubt, and fear comes to a head, and I have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep my cry in.
Tragedies strike every day. My family is all too familiar with loss, but I’ve never felt it firsthand. I experience it through my parents, through my aunt and uncle, but never for myself. I can’t imagine what losing me would do to my family. I could’ve died today and taken Willa’s only sibling—Sharon’s only son—with me.
I sniffle and instantly want to retract my slip up. The sheets rustle as the mattress jostles, and then two arms scoop me against a warm, bare chest. Hesitating at first, my body gives in, curling into his embrace. Devin doesn’t say a word as he presses his lips to my forehead and my temple.
“Just let me cry in peace. I’m still on my period and shaken from earlier today. This isn’t about yo—”
And then Devin does the unexpected. He hooks my chin, tipping my head back, and his mouth descends on mine.
A sharp intake of air through my nose accompanies the cinching of his hold on me.
I break away a fraction. “What—”
“Just stop talking, Nova.”
He slams his lips against mine, taking, as he pulls me on top of him, grinding my hips with a roll of his.Oh my gosh.An embarrassing whimper eeks from me.
Why the change? Why give in now? Maybe this is his way of confessing he’s just as unsettled as I am about our near-death experience, and he needs to find solace in the tension. Maybe it’s an apology for his comment. When that reason dawns on me, I attempt to draw back, but Devin threads a hand through my hair, holding me there as his head tilts, deepening our kiss.
His tongue slips out, seeking, and unable to form another logical thought, I open. I’m done reading into his motivation. I take advantage of the distraction and draw one of my hands from his naked pec to his smooth jaw. Raking my fingertips through the shorter strands of his hair, I meet his hungry tongue stroke for stroke.
A guttural groan leaves Devin and feeds my desire to pull another from him. His hands grip my hips, working a steady rhythm of our bodies. When his mouth leaves mine, I almost cry out until his lips trail a path down my neck, his hands drawing me higher up his body to better his access. His teeth nip and his tongue soothes, sucking along the sensitive column. And then I’m on my back, Devin hovering above as his mouth traces the swells peeking above the neckline of my tank top.
Breathing erratic, I grip the roots of his hair. I need him there. I need him on my lips. I need him everywhere.
His hand slips beneath the hem of my shirt, thumb brushing the edge of my shorts riding low on my hips. An untamed mewl lifts his head, his mouth attaching to mine at long last.What is happening?Never have I craved a guy like this, with such lust and mania.
Devin strokes the sensitive dip of my hip bone, and my core tightens. What is he doing to me? And how can I make him just as crazy? Comparisons filter through my mind, none matching this feeling, but I don’t even want to think of anyone but Devin here and now. Nothing has ever felt more right, more natural than the collision of our lips.
When Devin breaches the waistband, his hand pauses, our kisses slowing. My stomach quivers at the grazing of his fingertips across my hip bone, but after pressing a tender kiss, he rests his forehead to mine. The heavy expelling of our breath fills the room, and then Devin whispers, “Hell, Spitfire.”
The lust fog dissipates as I catch my breath. Rolling back and forth against mine, his forehead pulls away, and Devin places one last chaste peck on my lips before twisting off me.
Just as a smidge of disappointment trickles into my heart, he settles one strong arm over my waist and tugs my back into his chest. I sink into the nook his body creates.
Devin kisses the curve of my shoulder. “Get some sleep, Nova.”
He really thinks that’s possible? Before I was bone tired, and now I’m wired.
