Devlin's Dare (14 page)

Oh hell. No.

“A few.”

“A few is three.”

“Okay. More than three.”

“More than five?” She frowned at his nod. “More than ten?” He shrugged. She smacked him. “
Damn it Devlin. How many women have you had?”

Charlie rolled by just then, because he was a master of bad timing, and
crowed, “Legions.”

A
nd all of a sudden, teasing Tara like this wasn’t funny anymore.

Because her
wounded expression devastated him.

They had a delicious lunch in the restaurant of the lodge perched at the top of the falls. As hard as he tried, Devlin couldn’t think of anything to complain about. He chalked that up to the companionship—specifically the fact that Tara was by his side. Conversation flowed naturally, and when they all paused to stare out the window at the falls below, no one minded.

The di
scussion was eclectic, ranging from Charlie’s adventures overseas to Tara’s descriptions of some of her more eccentric customers to irate comments Devlin had fielded on his blog. But when the topic turned to Tara and Tina’s childhood, his attention was snared.

“How many times did you move?” Charlie asked, picking an onion off his sandwich.

“Nineteen,” Tina replied. “Before high school graduation.”

“Wow.” Devlin glanced at Tara. “That’s a lot.”

She shrugged. “Typical of the military.”

“Oh?” Charlie
tipped his head in interest. “Army brats?” At Tina’s nod, he asked, “Is that why you joined up?”

Tina took a sip of her iced tea and munched on a fry before she answered. “Yep. I was going for the continuity thing.”

Tara snorted. “There’s no continuity in a military lifestyle.”

“There’s nothing but continuity in a military lifestyle.”

“Seriously?” She glared her sister down. “You move all the time, have to meet all new people, have to learn a new place… I hated it.”

Tina shook her head.
“The rules are the same everywhere you go, and everyone understands them. It’s not like the civilian world, where you never know what to expect.”

“Word.”

Tara narrowed her eyes on Charlie, not appreciating his intrusion in their family squabble. “Everything is temporary. Nothing is forever. Not your house. Not your friends or your school or your…anything!”

Tina set her chin. “Family is forever.”

Tara gored her sister with a dark frown. “Is it? Tell that to mom.” She didn’t seem to notice how her sister paled. She continued on. “As soon as you get used to a place, orders come in to move on and you have to
leave
. Leave it all behind, everything you’ve built, and walk into some new freaking normal. Constant flux. Constant adjustment. I hated it.”

“I loved it
,” Tina offered softly. So softly, it gave Tara pause. Or made her stop ranting, at least. Though, as awkward as that moment had been, it had been illuminating.

Because it helped Devlin see, helped him understand
why
.

Tara’s
resistance to a relationship didn’t stem from his lack as a man. It stemmed from a childhood filled with insecurity and incessant change. He could see her as a young girl, confused, buffeted, trying to cling to something in this world that did not slip away…and failing.

What she wanted, what she needed and craved
beyond bearing, was the very thing she kept pushing away. A forever. With a man.

Because she was afraid, she had convinced herself, it
wasn’t possible to find.

Without thought, he put his arm around her and stroked her shoulder with his thumb.
Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t protest. In fact, after a moment, she seemed to relax into his caress. So he didn’t stop. Didn’t ever want to stop.

“Wasn’t there anything you liked about our childhood?” Tina asked. Devlin noticed she had ripped
her bread to shreds. It mounded in a mutilated pile on her plate.

Tara nibbled her lip
. “Well… We did get to travel.” To his relief, the tension between the two sisters eased with her response.

“Yes. We did.” Tina smiled.

“Where were you stationed?” Charlie asked, before Devlin could form the words.

“We lived in Germany and Japan and Taiwan.” Tina
ticked the list off on her fingers.

“And Oklahoma,” Tara added. “Don’t forget Oklahoma.”

A laugh. “And Virginia and California…”

“And Washington State.” Tara sobered at that and shot her sister a glance. There may have been tears glinting in her beautiful eyes. Yes. Definitely tears. “That was when dad left.” This was a whispered addition, but they all heard.

Tina reached across the table and covered Tara’s hand with her own. “They were better apart.”

“Hmm.”
Tara blew out a breath and picked up the dessert menu the server had left, in a blatant attempt to end the conversation. “Anyone want to share something?”

A knot formed in Devlin’s throat. A knot he couldn’t seem to swallow.

He did. He wanted to share something… But he could hardly say
that
, so instead he stroked her back and murmured, “See anything you like?”

Her minxish grin was the Tara he knew, spunky and
mischievous and fearless. But the shadows lingered. Upon reflection, he realized they had always been there.

“Well,” she gusted. “They do have a peanut butter soufflé…”

“Really?” he murmured into her ear. “Is it creamy or chunky?”

It was a relief when Tina announced she and Charlie were going out that night. Not that Tara didn’t enjoy spending time with her sister, but after their exchange over lunch, she felt like they needed a break from each other’s company.

Also, it prompted Devlin to turn to her and ask, very sweetly, if she would like to spend the evening with him.

She only dithered for a moment. And then, only because the specter of all his other girlfriends rose in her mind. Hell, she knew he’d been around the block…at least once. What she didn’t understand was why it bugged her. But she pushed her disquiet away and accepted.

They all tromped back to Charlie’s van and climbed in—she was getting used to the machinations required
, with the wheelchair and all. And while Devlin offered to help, Charlie refused, impressing them all, once again, with how stubborn and self-sufficient he was. He swung up into the van then reached down and folded his chair, hefting it neatly into its spot behind the driver’s seat.

Conversation was light and cheery as they made the drive back to Seattle. They all marveled at the beauty of the forest surrounding the falls and how such rampant natural
beauty was only a short drive from a major metropolis.

Charlie dropped Tara and Devlin at his
house and then, with a hug from Tina, those two took off.

As she made her way up the ramp to Devlin’s place—which she was dying to see—she tossed him a grin. “So what did you want to do?”

“We could go out for dinner…” The way he trailed off told her he was making the suggestion solely out of deference for her preferences.

“Do we have to?” Yeah. She liked the way his
features lit up.

“Or we could stay in. Maybe watch a movie.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for her to enter. The entry hall was wide and airy and spotless. 

“I’d like that. But…”

He fixed her with a tense gaze. “But what?”

She made a face. “I have to work in the morning.
Early
.”

“Ahh.” He turned away. Ostensibly to close the door, but she suspected he wanted to hide his
response as well. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“Why do you say it like that?”

“What?”

“You said ‘Ahh.’” S
he attempted to mimic his tone. “As though you don’t believe I really have to work early.”

“It is a standard gambit…”

She snorted a laugh and peeked around the corner to survey his living room. Also spotless. And
so
Devlin. Thick leather couches and heavy wood end tables, but lightened with a lush cream Flokati rug. Built-in bookshelves, filled to the gills, flanked the hearth. She stepped closer to examine the painting over the fireplace. A print of
The Wave
by Hokusai. She had one, a smaller one, at home. “It’s not a gambit. I
do
have to work early.” She grinned. “I am a baker, remember?”

Their gazes tangled. His heated. “You really have to work early?”

“I need to be there at four.”

He winced. “Four?
In the
morning
? Really?”

“Yup.
I get up at three.” This had always been a point of contention with previous boyfriends, but Devlin only grinned.

“
Well then,” he said. “We’d better get started.”

And then h
e stalked across the room, yanked her into his arms and kissed her.

It was heaven, absolute heaven, holding her, kissing her again. Devlin could have done just that all night. But another pressing need arose as their passion ignited. He pulled back and stared down at her beautiful face. She was flushed, dewy. Her lips were parted, damp. An idea, an inspiration, a raw, primal need flared.

“Do you know what I hate?” he asked, his voice catching on his lust.

She tipped her head to the side. “What do you hate?” Was she aware her fingers toyed with the hair at his nape? He doubted it. Didn’t care.

“People who welsh on a bet.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting him to say that. “Okay. And why do you feel the urge to mention that now? At this very moment?” She tried to pull him back into the kiss, but he resisted.

“Because you
owe
me.”

She snorted. “
I
owe
you
?”

He tsked. “Oh, how soon they forget.”

“What are you talking about Devlin?” she said on a laugh.

“Come here.” He took her hand and led her down the hall and into the kitchen. She watched, arms akimbo, as he riffled in the pantry. But when he pulled out a jar of peanut butter, she got it. Her eyes widened. Her mouth formed an entrancing little
O
. Which inflamed him.

Exactly.

He waggled the jar. “Remember?”

He loved the way her expression changed. From slightly befuddled to intrigued to downright wicked. She took the jar from him and perused the label.
“Hmm. Extra chunky.” She glanced at him from beneath veiled lashes. “Kinky.”

He laughed, but when she pushed him into the chair and barked, “Sit,” his amusement faded.

“Here?”

“Where else but the kitchen?” She unscrewed the plastic top and took a whiff. “Mmm. I do love peanut butter. Take off your slacks.”

“Are you going to steal them?” he asked through a chortle, but he complied. With alacrity.

“Maybe.”

His breath caught in his throat as she knelt between his knees on the hard kitchen floor. Really? He’d been thinking they could do this upstairs on a soft mattress…but who was he to interrupt a woman determined to fulfill a debt of honor? She peeped up at him, licked her lips and rolled his briefs down. His cock sprang free, ready, willing and decidedly eager. His cock loved peanut butter too…apparently.

She took him in her hands, a two-fisted hold, and his sanity skittered. She leaned closer and drew in his scent and moaned. “You smell so good.”

Jesus and Jujubes.
He shifted impatiently.

She dipped a couple fingers into the jar and scooped out a healthy dollop of peanut butter and—
shit
—rubbed it on the head of his cock. The grating rasp of the peanut chunks made him go cross-eyed. She smoothed the gooey substance along his shaft, rubbing it in with a hellish rhythm.

His balls tightened
. His pulse pounded. Burning need seethed. God. He wasn’t going to last. He should never have brought this up.

It was nearly a relief when she stopped. Or maybe not.

She sat back on her haunches to survey her handiwork, and he twitched his hips, thrusting a little in her direction. Something mischievous danced in her smile. “This is where I walk away, I think.”

His heart plunged. “Don’t you dare!” A growl. Feral and hungry. She’d better fucking not walk—

She laughed at his expression and took his cock in her firm grasp once more. “Fortunately,” she whispered, “I’m hungry.” She kissed the tip, swirled her tongue over the hyper-sensitive surface. Shivers of delight racked him. “And I do love peanut butter…”

If he’d thought she was tormenting him before, he had no idea what torment was. Because now she attacked him with fervor, licking and sucking and lapping with that velvet tongue. Here, there, up the shaft, down around his balls, the underside of his glans…everywhere. Over and over and over again until he thought he might lose his mind with the pleasure.

He put his hand on the top of her head, wove his fingers in her hair and gently tried to guide her. The result was disaster. She stopped.

She pulled back with a fulminating frown, but he could tell it was an act. At least, he hoped it was. She looked pretty fierce.  “Hands to yourself, buster.”