Why Resist a Rebel - By Leah Ashton Page 0,32

near violent. But as if he could simply erase all this crap away.

And it was crap. Useless, pointless, far-too-late-to-do-anything-about crap.

And so random. The stuff his subconscious was coming up with, that was building and festering inside him.

Snatches of time from his childhood.

Rare moments alone with his father.

Rarer words of praise—praise well and truly cancelled out with years and years of frustration and disappointment. At his failures—the straight As he never received, the sports he never mastered, the good behaviour he could never maintain.

And then memories of his brothers, so different from him, and yet who he’d admired so hard it hurt. Almost as much as he’d idolised his father—once.

Okay. Maybe not so random.

Of course he knew what this was about, it was as obvious as the watches his father had worn, the ones that had cost more than the average person’s yearly wage, and that his father had made sure everyone noticed. But then, who could blame him? He’d worked damn hard for his money...

I worked damn hard, Devlin, and not so you could throw it all away. You know nothing about sacrifices—about what I would do for my family. Nothing.

He heard something—footsteps. Soft on the deep carpet.

He turned his head, and watched Ruby as she crept past. He couldn’t see much in the almost pitch blackness, but she was most definitely creeping—her shoes dangling from one hand, each step slow and deliberate.

‘Ruby,’ he whispered. Then watched as she just about jumped out of her skin.

‘Dev!’

He sat up and switched on a lamp, making Ruby blink at him in the sudden light.

She stood stock still, in her fancy dress and jacket—although her hair and make-up were somewhat worse for wear.

The reason for her déshabillé made him smile.

Although when he’d left his bedroom she’d been wearing only a sheet and a half-smile as she’d slept. That, he thought, was probably his favourite look for the evening. Or morning? Lord. Who knew what time it was any more?

‘I thought you were asleep,’ she said.

‘Otherwise you would’ve said goodbye?’ His voice was unexpectedly rough, rather than teasing as he’d intended.

‘Yes—’ she said. Then, the words getting increasingly faster, ‘Actually, no. I mean, of course I would’ve said goodbye if you were awake, but I figured it was better if you were asleep. I didn’t particularly want an audience for my walk of shame.’

His mouth quirked at her honesty. ‘Shame, huh?’

She went pink. ‘It’s a turn of phrase. Of course I’m not ashamed. Just...’ Her gaze flicked to the ceiling. ‘This wasn’t how I’d planned for the night to end.’

He didn’t say ‘me, either’, because that wouldn’t have been true.

It was just other elements of the night that had been unexpected, the moments where he’d looked at Ruby and felt...

He scratched absently at his bare chest.

He had no idea what he felt.

Her eyebrows rose, seemingly reading his mind. ‘You are, at the very least, consistent in your arrogance.’

But there was a smile in her voice.

He shrugged unapologetically. ‘I was right.’

She sighed, then readjusted the small gold handbag she had hooked over her shoulder. ‘I should go.’

He nodded.

Dev went to stand, deciding he should at least be chivalrous enough to walk her to the door.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the way his legs had been bent on the too-short sofa, his left leg still weak from his accident—but either way, the result was that rather than ending up vertical, instead, he staggered.

Somehow Ruby was beside him, her arm wrapped tightly around his waist, just above the low-slung waistband of his boxer shorts.

‘Careful!’ she said, on a gasp.

Not that her slight weight would’ve made any difference if he’d been about to fall—which he wasn’t. He’d tripped over his own feet—he was clumsy. That was all.

He went to shrug her off, annoyed at himself, and annoyed she’d thought he’d needed help.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. Short and sharp.

But she didn’t let go, not completely. Her grip had loosened, but now her other hand traced over his skin, dipping into the slight hollows above and below his left hip.

‘I didn’t really notice before,’ she said, very softly. ‘It was dark and we were so caught up in the moment I didn’t have much of a chance to look...’

Her fingertips trailed shivery trails across his belly, then up to the corrugation of his abdominal muscles—more defined than ever before. His trainer would be proud.

He meant to push her hand away, but didn’t.

She looked up, straight into his eyes, and he was sure—absolutely positive—she was going to ask him