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twenty-four | nova
“Rise and Shine.”I snap the drapes open and turn, admiring Devin’s deeply tanned back as his muscles bunch and flex when he rolls over and buries his face under his pillow. Clearly, the Florida sun and baseball workouts do him justice. He’s beautiful.
“Come back to bed, Dimples.” His sleepy voice makes my lady parts tighten. “You hate mornings.”
“No can do. I’m dressed and ready for adventure.”
Devin shifts, peeking out as he slowly opens his eyes. “I keep thinking you can’t get any prettier, and you just keep blowing me away.”
“Awww.” I sit on the edge of his side of the bed. “Sweet talking isn’t going to get me back under those covers, Hotshot. Now let’s go.” I press my cold water bottle against the small of his back.
Devin yelps. Jumping in a flash of skin and black boxer briefs, he twists to his back while sweeping me up and dragging me with him. “That was just plain rude.” He grabs the bottle and presses it against my neck before replacing the damp plastic with his mouth, sucking the condensation from my skin.
I still. My body sprawled over his, his morning situation pressed against my thigh, and my breath catches.
“Just to be clear, that wasn’t sweet talking. That was facts.” He nuzzles the underside of my jaw. “You’re beautiful, and you look well-rested today.”
Would it be wrong to admit that I slept better than I have in years? How finally knowing the truth about that night in Oregon stitched the unhealed tear in my heart, and sleeping in Devin’s arms gave me a comfort I didn’t realize I was missing. The past five months were hell. I barely celebrated my college graduation before I was immersed in exhaustive wedding planning, house hunting, and fending off Anders’ advances.Ugh, Anders.How did I accept all those little comments he made about me withholding sex as if it were my fault he was upset? How did I accept his controlling my appearance?
Well, because it happened so gradually. At first, it was just, “I like your hair down,” and “I love it when you wear sundresses.” I wanted to dress and style my hair in a way he found most attractive since we didn’t see each other often. Then he wanted me to stop wearing my “tacky” lotions and gels from Cora and Crew. Thanks to Devin, I never planned on giving them up, so I did as he asked when we were together and used them every other day. It wasn’t until it turned into veiled jokes. “Don’t wear strapless tops unless you want to send me mixed signals.” Or, “You shouldn’t wear your hair in pigtails. People will think I’m cradle robbing.” It didn’t matter what I wore. He took it as an invitation to come onto me or a free-for-all in passive aggression, insinuating I was a tease when I wasn’t ready to go further.
Of course, I’m well-rested. I’mfree.
And currently losing all train of thought the longer Devin’s scruff rubs against my sensitive skin. He breathes me in, pinning a kiss to the hollow beneath my ear.
No. I can’t get lost in Devin. It would be so easy. Effortless, really. Especially since I was always the one initiating a connection with him. And here he is, peppering affection in a way that feels so natural and perfect.Finally. But opening that part of myself to him again, that part I refused to share with Anders, isn’t going to solve anything.
I rise onto my hands, hovering above Devin. “We should go explore New Orleans.”
With heated eyes, his tongue snakes out, wetting his lower lip. One of his hands trails my spine before settling on my hip, and I can’t conceal a shiver. “Whatever you want to do. That’s what we’re here for.”
I nod.Then why am I not moving?Devin’s gaze dips to my mouth, and like my lips have a memory of their own, they tingle, but he doesn’t make a move. Palpable tension swells between us, a building pressure ready to erupt. If I don’t get up and distance myself to the opposite side of the room, whatever control lives in me will snap. No one else provokes the kind of craving Devin does.
But why? Why do I care about control? That’s not what this adventure is about. I bolted from myweddingday and hopped on a plane with a man I spent two weeks with four years ago, all because of one letter. If this trip isn’t about tossing out sensibility, I don’t know what it is.
My elbows bend, lowering me, but Devin doesn’t so much as twitch. The anticipation in his eyes intensifies to a roaring glow, but he waits, allowing me to lead. With my chest heaving, his rises and falls in the same cadence. When our mouths are a breath apart, I swallow, my overactive thoughts hindering my desires. And Devin’s patience shatters. He closes the inches between us, sealing his lips to mine.
When we first kissed in Oregon, there was a wildness to our fused mouths, an urgency of two pining teenagers. But as grown adults, there’s a certain depth, a whole new layer of raw vulnerability and passion. The same appetite, but tongues memorize and lips savor. Like a Sunday stroll on the way to lunch, we’re unhurried and carefree but no less hungry.
I smile against his lips with a quiet laugh before planting one more soft kiss on him and maneuvering off his body. “Okay. Chop, chop.” I clap. “The day is wasting away.”
Devin watches me with a lazy grin, heaving a sigh as he rolls out of bed. “Slave driver.”
* * *
“So, what are we getting up to today?” Devin takes my hand as we step out of our building.
Waving my phone, I nod toward the front office. “I did some online searching in the office. I have a list.”
“This is an absolute shock.” He slams a hand against his chest, and I grin. “The real question is are your planned stops lame?”
My elbow nudges his ribs, and Devin is solid muscle. “I guess you’re just going to have to wait and see.”
“Lead the way, Dimples.”
Our first stop is food. The aroma from the eatery located on the first floor of our building had my stomach growling while I waited for Devin to get ready. The moment we’re seated next to a table with thick french toast topped with pineapple, I’m sold.
I grab the menu and search. “Coconut cream stuffed french toast topped with brûléed pineapple, candied macadamia, and lemon curd. Holy… My life is complete, Dev.”
