Daring Devlin (Lost Boys #1) - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,63

loved it.

I pictured us sprawled out on his black bedding, waking up next to him in the morning. I wanted the very thing I shouldn’t let myself want.

Him. For good. Forever.

I wasn’t ready for forever. The sex had been light and fun before, but tonight, even on the kitchen floor, felt… intimate.

I reached over and traced the number seven tattooed on his triceps. “What’s it mean?”

His eyes went to mine, but he didn’t answer.

“Lucky number?” I guessed.

“Was that night.” He watched me as if deciding whether or not to share. I wondered if tonight had felt intimate for him, too. “Dad took me with him to bet on the ponies sometimes. I watched every race, remembered every winner. When he realized I had a knack for remembering details about the horses—which were winners, which were favored—he started asking for my advice. I was ten years old the day we won big. The horse’s name was Lucky in Love.”

“Number seven?” I guessed.

“Number seven.”

“It’s a nice tattoo.” The 7 was an artistic font with big, balloon-shaped ends, shaded dark, and spanning the underside of his upper arm.

He gave me a sweet kiss I felt down to my freezing toes. I was suddenly nervous. I shifted away from him, intending to make my escape. I needed distance myself so I could think clearly. I couldn’t do that lying naked next to him.

“I told Tasha I’d meet her for a thing tonight,” I said, sitting up and reaching for my shoe.

“What thing?”

I looked around for my other shoe, but didn’t see it. “Some street-race thing. I don’t know.”

He sat up and met my eyes, his brow furrowed. “Street-race thing?”

“Did you want to go?” I asked, taking his attention for interest.

Before he could answer, his phone rang. He reached for his phone on the counter, flexing all that round muscle under all that smooth skin. Yum.

“Paul,” he said instead of hello. His brows scrunched. “When?”

Silence. Further scrunching.

“Where?” He stuffed his legs into his jeans, the phone balanced between his ear and shoulder. “On my way.”

I stood and pulled on my own jeans, worried at his tone. “Devlin?”

“Cade wrecked his car.” He bent and grabbed my bra, offering it to me.

“Is he okay?” I asked numbly.

“It’s bad.”

My racing heart skidded to a halt. Memories of the night I was in the car wreck with Joshua flooded over me. The ear-piercing crunch of metal followed by eerie silence. The inability to pull in a full breath because my seatbelt was so tight on my chest.

I clasped my bra while staring at the floor. I managed to pull on my tank top, but when I wrestled with my inside-out long-sleeved shirt, I burst into tears.

Devlin took the shirt from my hands and pulled it over my head. I threaded my arms through the sleeves and sniffled, my face wet with tears. He sat on a chair at the kitchen table and pulled me onto his lap. He brushed the tears from my cheeks and pushed my hair to one side.

“Rena,” he whispered. Softly. Gently.

His face went wonky as tears pooled in my eyes again. He palmed my head, offered an even more gentle, “C’mere,” and I rested my cheek against his shoulder.

“He’s alive.” His voice was gruff but tender.

I nodded, not trusting my voice yet.

“I’ll drop you at home.”

“I’m going.”

“Baby.”

I lifted my head and met his beautiful blue eyes. “I want to.”

He frowned, but then let out a sigh of acceptance. “Call Tasha. She’s at the hospital and probably needs to hear from a friend.”

“At the hospital?” I blinked. “But she and Cade hate each other.”

“They don’t,” he said with a small smile.

“I’m pretty sure they do.”

“Pretty sure they don’t, sweetheart.” He tweaked my chin. I liked sitting on his lap, him calling me sweetheart. It was a shame we had to leave. “Call her.”

I slid off his lap.

“Your shoe’s in the sink, by the way.”

“Seriously?”

“We’re wild, baby.” This earned me a full-fledged smile. A blinding flash of white against tanned skin. I took in his disheveled hair and crinkled blue eyes and smiled back. He swatted my ass as I crossed the kitchen.

Those words hooked into me and didn’t let go.

We’re wild, baby.

After years of reining myself in, being good, behaving myself, I was once again wild. Proving that, with Devlin, I was more myself than ever.

After spending years being as dry as toast, I liked that I was once again wild. Becoming more of myself. With that thought glowing warmly in the center of my chest,