himself not to draw in a breath, not to show any weakness at all.
But he did look for El, and the light he saw in her eyes eased any lingering doubts.
Then she was heading toward him, weaving through the crowd with her attention focused entirely on him. He started toward her, then hesitated as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the simple message from Ronan—Done.
Blackstone was dead.
Relief slammed through Devlin, so potent it almost sent him tumbling down the stairs. Then Ellie was standing in front of him, telling him he was amazing and asking what was wrong, and the answer was nothing—right then nothing was wrong.
He took her hand and pulled her to him. “I love you,” he said. “I need you.”
He was wired, he knew that. From the speech. From the message. From the weight of the secret he’d been keeping being finally released. He needed her—damn social obligations, he’d make the rounds in a few minutes. Right then, all he wanted was El.
He drew her up the stairs to the second floor, then into the elevator so they could get to his office quicker.
“Devlin, what are you—” But he silenced her with a hard, bruising kiss that had her moaning and then melting against him, so that she was just as eager as he was when the elevator opened in front of his office.
They were through the doors and at his desk in what felt like seconds, and he lifted her onto his desk, pushing her legs apart as she struggled to pull down his fly. He hesitated only a second to look into her eyes. To see more than hear her whispered, “Yes, oh, God, yes,” before he clutched her hips and tugged her closer, then lost himself inside her.
Christ, she felt good. He looked at her face, drinking her in. “Open your eyes,” he said, then just about lost it when she did, and he was overwhelmed with the love and passion he saw reflected there.
“Harder,” she whispered. “Devlin, I need it, too.”
He bent over her, pushing her back onto the desk and pulling her knees up. His cock was inside her, his hands on her breasts, and his mouth claiming hers with a kiss as wild as fucking.
He was close—so damn close. And he knew her body well enough to know that she was, too.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her mouth. “Come for—”
The door burst open.
“Saint, dammit, we have to—oh, shit.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Jesus Christ,” I say, struggling to adjust my clothes as Devlin does the same. Not that Lamar hasn’t seen me in my underwear. But as far as I know, he’s never seen me having sex. And I don’t think that we need to expand our friendship into that dimension. “Don’t you knock?”
Devlin scowls at Lamar, who’s repeating “Sorry, sorry,” his words coming out on top of ours. “But—”
“You can’t just—” I begin. Then the words die on my tongue as Brandy steps out from behind Lamar, mascara-tinted tears staining her cheeks. “Oh, no.” I grapple for Devlin’s hand, then squeeze. “What happened?”
Lamar’s expression is tight as he gestures to the seating area in Devlin’s office.
“I’m really sorry,” Lamar says. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get to both of you.”
“It’s fine,” Devlin says dismissively, though my cheeks are still burning with embarrassment. “I should have thought to lock it. What’s going on?”
Devlin settles into a chair across from the sofa where Lamar and Brandy are now seated. I perch on the armrest, letting Devlin’s hand at my back steady me.
Lamar looks at both of us, his expression completely miserable as he holds Brandy’s hand. Brandy is silent, but tears still track dark lines down her face. Fear cuts through my gut, replacing what earlier had been irritation.
“Lamar, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“Christopher,” Brandy whispers, her voice raw and rough and very audible.
I look to Lamar. “Oh, God. Is he hurt? What happened?”
Brandy chokes back a sob as she tries—and fails—to answer.
“I’m so sorry, Sherlock,” he says gently, as if the nickname will soften a blow. “But he was driving the SUV. The one that almost killed you.”
I gape at Lamar, then turn to Devlin. I’m completely shell-shocked, unable to believe it. We’d vetted him. Hell, we were with him last night, laughing on the couch, and everything had seemed perfectly normal. There was nothing—nothing—to suggest he was keeping such a huge secret. And yet now that I’m looking at Devlin’s face, I realize that