Daring Devlin (Lost Boys #1) - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,55

help Paul he’d be out of my life so fast both our heads would spin. Then there was Cade. There wasn’t any love lost between Cade and me. We didn’t even like each other.

Rena, though. She’d seen me at my lowest. I’d been mean, unforgivably mean, last night. And yet she’d stayed. I’d lied and said sleeping with her was my only goal last night. I stood now, her in my arms, knowing I didn’t deserve her being here. I’d pushed her away for one reason. Habit.

Sonny would find out about Paul, and I’d be entangled in some underground gambling turf war that guaranteed Rena wouldn’t be safe. No matter how much I tried to keep her safe, I couldn’t make any promises. Letting her stay, holding her now, was the height of selfishness on my part. But I still couldn’t let her go.

“To be fair,” she said as if there hadn’t been a lull in our conversation, “I find it just as hard to resist you.” She took the washcloth hanging on a small bar in the shower and lathered up a bar of soap. “Although, last night you tested those limits.”

Her expression was stern while she washed one of her arms and then the other. She swiped the cloth over her chest and stomach, and then down each leg, her body swaying in a soapy, seductive dance.

My eyes followed the trail of suds over her nipples, down to her belly button, and to the V of her thighs.

“I shouldn’t have.”

She soaped the washcloth again before grabbing my arm and scrubbing. “You’re right.”

I clenched my jaw, the two words I needed to say most stuck in my throat like a glob of peanut butter. She sent me a questioning glance like she knew there was more I was trying to say. I wrapped my arms around her. I liked having her close to me. But I couldn’t say that, either. I didn’t know how I felt about us. Even the word “us” was freaking me out. People who were close to me bailed. Always.

I sighed and stayed silent, not trusting myself to share.

“It’s nice to feel alive instead of nothing,” she said as she drew circles in the soapsuds on my chest. “You happen to be the first person who’s made me feel alive in a long, long time.” She kept her eyes on my chest. “I don’t want you to be my power source. When you unplug me, I’m afraid I’ll… fade out.”

Her eyes met mine, worry in their depths. Water from the showerhead bounced off my shoulders, and she fluttered her lashes. I shielded her from the spray, my palms covering her face. Again she made me feel vulnerable and raw. Naked. Even more naked than I was now, and I wasn’t wearing a damn thing.

I waited for the panic to set in. At which point I could either start an argument and attempt to scare her off again—not that it’d worked the first time—or shrug and offer a casual, Come on, Rena, you know we’d never work. I could say that last night was the result of my drunken babbling. That I couldn’t remember half the shit I said. Then she’d be safe because she’d be away from me.

There was only one problem with that plan.

She was the first person who’d made me feel alive in a long time, too. Alive. Before now, I hadn’t known the word for it. I’d been telling myself from the first time I kissed her that I was using her to get what I needed. After that, I convinced myself I was indulging my curiosity. And then indulging my insatiable curiosity.

Last night something had shifted. I learned Rena was only a good girl because she’d been forced to be. That she had a wild side. She wasn’t interested in being safe. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here with me.

For the first time in forever, I felt afraid. What would it mean to let myself depend on someone? If I let someone depend on me? One day, I’d piss her off and she’d leave for good. And that would leave me… just me. Alone. Again.

I repressed a shudder. I didn’t want to think about it.

A small voice in the back of my head whispered that I’d pushed her pretty hard last night and she hadn’t gone anywhere. I couldn’t trust that voice yet. Hope might be reverberating through the gorgeous, naked woman in my shower, but it had long been a stranger