Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger (9 page)

Her head was spinning. “That's not neces—”

“This is where you say, ‘Thanks, Dev,' and invite me in. It's heavier than it looks.”

She stood there gaping as Devin turned sideways to pass her and stepped inside. He carried the table to the center of the room and set it down carefully. “There. It doesn't match the sofa, but then nothing in here does.”

I've snapped. The stress has gotten to me and this is a hallucination.
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Devin was still standing in her living room. With a coffee table.
Okay. Reality is just weird.
Closing the door, she tried again to make sense of the situation. “It's lovely, Devin, and that's very kind of you, but…”

“You're welcome.” Devin looked at the mess covering her floor. “You certainly need it. How are the articles going?”

Confusion reigned supreme. “Devin…um…I mean,
what…” She scrubbed a hand across her face. “What is going on?”

Devin frowned at her, obviously assessing her sanity and getting a big question mark. “This—” he indicated the table “—is a gift. For you. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you showed up on my front step with a coffee table for some unknown reason. I think I'm allowed to be a little thrown by this.”

That got her a shrug in response. “I don't see why.”

She held on to her last shred of sanity. “Devin…”

“Okay, so I'm feeling a little bad about the stress you're under, so I thought I'd try to do something nice for you.”

“So you bought me a
table?
”

Devin's smile bordered on sheepish, but she wasn't buying it for a second. “It seemed like a better idea than flowers or something. I knew you needed a table.”

A laugh bubbled up without warning. It felt good after all the tension of the past few days. “You're certainly full of surprises, Dev.”

He looked pleased with himself. “I try. Now, are you going to invite me to sit and stay awhile?”

She shouldn't. She knew that much for sure. But he'd brought her furniture; she couldn't just send him off like a delivery guy with a smile and a wave. With all her newfound answers gleaned from her self-therapy last night, surely she could handle a polite conversation with the man. After all, he was trying to be nice. “Would you like to sit? Can I get you something to drink?” When he shook his head, she went to the couch and sat, trying to shake off the déjà vu with simple, harmless small talk. It proved harder than expected, though, as she fumbled for a topic. “I listened to your show today. It's a bit different than the nighttime version.”

He seemed shocked at her revelation, but then he shrugged. “Different target demographic. There's some overlap, of course.” With a level stare, he added, “And you still don't approve.”

“I don't have to approve. Or agree with what you're saying. I may think you're wrong, but it's your show. Your listeners.” She shrugged.

“And you'd tell them something different?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, if people are definitely getting a divorce, then they really do need good advice on the legal aspects. It's the folks calling you who seem on the fence that I worry about.”

“And yet you look down on psychotainment. For some folks, that sound bite is the best they're going to get.”

He had a point. “True,” she conceded, “but I don't have to like it. On the other hand, it's not my show, and it's a free country. You're obviously popular, so I'm in the minority. I'm okay with that, and I'll keep my objections to myself.” To prove it she folded her hands in her lap and smiled.

Dev's eyes widened in surprise, and she was treated to one of those dangerous grins. “Boy, if I get this just from bringing a coffee table, what will I get if I show up with a couch?”

“Do
not
show up at my front door with a couch, Devin Kenney. Or any other furniture, for that matter.”

“So it's the furniture you object to, not the delivery guy?” Dev winked at her.

Busted.
“Well, um…I wasn't really expecting you at all. Much less with a table.”
Nice recovery.

Dev simply laughed.

Time to get this back in hand.
“Okay, I know why I'm home on a Friday afternoon, but don't you have a job you need to be at?”

To her utter amazement, Dev leaned back in the chair
and got comfortable, propping his feet on the new table, which on second glance looked very expensive. “Yes, but I also have plenty of people to take care of the grunt work. They'll call if they need me. I thought you might need the company, though. You seem determined to be a recluse.”

The sight of him settling in unnerved her. “Staying in is often good for people. Gives you time to think. Accomplish things. Do stuff.”
Stop babbling.
“Things you normally wouldn't do.”

“So I can talk you into having dinner with me, then.”

“No!” She caught herself and tried again. “I mean, thanks, but no.”

“Why not? That's not something you'd normally do.”

Because I'm not
that
crazy.
Lord, she had to get control of this situation. Fast. “Is there a particular reason you're here, Dev? Other than furniture delivery?”

She regretted the question immediately. A dangerous spark lit in Devin's eyes as they met hers, and that was all the answer she needed. She should feel insulted, irritated, maybe even outraged, but her traitorous body was too primed not to react to the electric current flowing between them.

That electricity sent a jolt through her that had her jumping to her feet. “Damn it, Dev.”

The slow, sensual smile she got in return caused her knees to wobble.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
So much for all those answers and explanations and reasons she'd worked out so carefully. They toppled like dominoes after one look from him. It was ridiculous, frustrating….

“Come here, Meggie.” He softened the command by wrapping his hand around her fist, causing her fingers to release so they could twine through his. Palm to palm, the connection was complete. Electric. It hummed through her,
bringing dormant cells back to life and making them pulse with need.

He lowered his feet to the floor and tugged her arm, bringing her a step closer. To him. Into the energy that radiated off him like a sexual aura.

Yesterday she'd been strong. Dug in her heels and stood her ground. Until this moment she wouldn't admit—not even to herself—that she regretted that stance.

She could make a different choice today.

The part of her brain that could quote the textbook on why it was a really,
really
bad idea to even consider what she was considering launched a protest, but her body wasn't listening.

One more tiny step and she was standing between his thighs. Dev's head was at eye level with her cleavage, and her nipples hardened in anticipation. He released his grip on her wrist, only to slide both hands up the backs of her thighs, causing her to lean ever more slightly toward him and the promise in his eyes. His thumbs brushed under the hem of her shorts, teasing the sensitive skin at the curve of her bottom.

“Dev—” Her voice was a broken whisper, so she cleared her throat to try again. “Dev, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“It's a
great
idea.” His voice was husky with need, hypnotizing her. “We've been heading here since you crashed my book signing on Monday. I know you, Meggie. And I know you want me as badly as I want you right now.”

D
EVIN'S BALD WORDS
affected her as strongly as the fingers caressing her inner thighs.
Walk away, Meggie, walk away.
But the message wasn't reaching her legs. They wobbled again, and she had to place a hand on Devin's shoulder for support. The heat of his skin burned her, even through his shirt, but she couldn't let go. “This isn't about want.” She wasn't sure which of them she was trying to convince.

Devin called her bluff simply by placing his lips at the hollow of her throat, letting his tongue sneak out to feel the frantic beat of her pulse. Her breath seemed trapped in her lungs.

His hands slid up to her waist as he lifted his head. “You're right,” he said, and disappointment caused her stomach to clench painfully. “It's about need.”

That was all the warning she got before he pulled her head down and captured her protest in his mouth.

With one touch of his tongue, everything she'd told herself since the day she left was proven a lie.

She recognized his taste and the weight of his lips. Like magic, she slipped back into the rhythm she thought she'd forgotten long ago, matching the movement of his kiss. The hand on his shoulder slid up along the tight cords of his neck, finding the soft, fine hairs at his nape.

His hands cupped her jaw, holding her head steady, but
there was tenderness under the pressure that caused her heart to skip a beat. When Devin released her face, letting one hand tangle in her hair while the other slid slowly to the hem of her shirt, the poignancy of the loss was quickly replaced by the flash of heat from his bare hand against the small of her back.

Her body seemed to remember and respond without reservation, eager to receive his touch and the pleasure it knew would follow. As Devin tugged her shirt up, her arms floated up without hesitation, offering him access. Once the fabric cleared her head, Dev's eyes were on hers as he swept his hands down her ribs and up to cup her breasts through the thin cotton of the simple bra she wore. Every stock phrase she'd perfected with her clients came screaming into her head.

This is all misplaced
—emotions dragged out of the depths of her psyche due to the happenings of the past couple of days. Digging through the past had awakened all kinds of memories, and this was simply a side effect.

She felt the clasp of her bra give way.
This isn't real.

Devin's tongue traced her collarbone as he slid the straps down her arms and off.
This is a really bad idea.

She arched as Devin's thumb scraped across her nipple, and his mouth found the sensitive place just below her earlobe.
You'll regret this later.

Her hands pulled at Devin's shirt, working it up and off, and exposing the hard planes of his chest for her to trace with her fingers.
It won't solve anything. In fact, it will only complicate the issue and make things worse.

Then Devin's hot mouth was on her breast, closing around an aching nipple and tracing it with his tongue.

And she no longer cared about the possible repercussions.

She gripped Devin's shoulders for support and gave herself over to the moment.

Devin knew the moment Megan quit arguing with herself and gave in, and the knowledge electrified his skin.
This.
Seeing Megan again, having her haunt his dreams—even rehashing their past—it had all been leading to this. To having Megan's skin under his hands and pressed against him again. Having her scent on him, her taste in his mouth. The intoxicating combination made him light-headed as he moved to tease her other breast, then burned him as the old flame kindled a raging inferno.

He pushed to his feet, wrapping Megan's legs around his waist and holding her hips as he headed for her bedroom. She groaned softly as she tightened her legs and moved restlessly, nearly causing his knees to buckle as pleasure shot through him.

Megan's bed was a tangle of covers, the pillows tossed haphazardly against the headboard, her quilt sliding halfway off the edge to the floor. Some things didn't change, it seemed, but Megan's unwillingness to ever make the bed saved him a step today. He lowered her onto the sheets, and the grip around his waist pulled him down with her. Here in the bed, her scent was even stronger, enveloping him even as he sat back on his heels and went to work on the snap of her shorts.

The quiver of stomach muscles against the backs of his hands nearly caused his fingers to fumble as desire shot through him. Megan arched, lifting her hips to assist as he slid the last of her clothing off, and his eyes widened.

A small blue butterfly nestled in the hollow beneath her right hip bone.

Megan had a tattoo.

It was beautifully done, this tiny work of art, the detail and shading carefully designed to capture the moment right before flight. The colors contrasted with Megan's
fair skin, drawing his fingers like a magnet to smooth over the butterfly's wings.

Seeing it on her body was shocking. And unbelievably arousing.

She hissed softly as he traced the wings, and gooseflesh rose under his seeking fingers, then trembled under his tongue. Capturing his head, she pulled, bringing him level with her body again and meeting his eyes as she worked the snap and zipper of his jeans.

The release brought both pleasure and pain: relief from the confinement mixed with an overwhelming need to bury himself in her.
Now.

He echoed her earlier hiss of pleasure as she palmed him, and his eyes closed as she stroked him with the practiced ease she'd learned years ago, remembering exactly how to drive him insane.

The pleasure bordered on torment as Meggie fitted into the curve of his body, her leg draping over his and her hips moving restlessly in contrast to the steady stroke of her hand.

He was too close to bear much of her touch, and with a push he flipped her to her back to reacquaint himself with her body.

So many subtle differences, yet it was all so familiar, as well. The faint sprinkle of freckles between her breasts, the indentation of her waist, the long, lean muscle of her thigh… The rediscovery of the curves and planes felt like coming home, only to find something new.

But that wasn't a new feeling either. He hadn't been Megan's first lover, but she'd come to him with only the fumblings of high-school boys forming her experience. Her inherent shyness had masked deep passion waiting to be plumbed, and they hadn't left the bed for nearly two
days. Even then, his hands on her skin had felt as if they belonged there, and he'd known…

That memory stirred his blood, but not as much as the gloriously naked woman before him now. This wasn't the same Meggie he'd married, and he was eager to find out who she'd become.

As if she read his mind, Megan's lush lips curled into a seductive smile. Without opening her eyes, she reached for his wrist, stopping his lazy exploration. “You're driving me crazy.”

He grinned, knowing she couldn't see it. “That was the plan.”

“Touch me, Dev.”

The words slammed into him, causing his breath to catch this time. “But I am.”

She growled low in her throat, and the frustration fueling the sound rocketed through him like an electric current. “Dev…”

His free hand slid over the butterfly tattoo to her thatch of pale curls, and her thighs opened in welcome. He let his fingers tease gently, enjoying the sight of her hands fisting in the sheets and the sheen of sweat that caused her skin to glisten in the dim half-light of the room. A very un-Meggie-like curse burst from her lips and she finally met his eyes. “Devin!” she demanded, desire choking her words.

“Like this?” he asked as he cupped her sex and felt the heat of her arousal.

Her teeth caught her lip as she tried to press against his hand. He couldn't keep up the game; he needed to feel her. His thumb slipped into the wet heat, and a strangled cry escaped as he found the stiff nub and circled it.

Meggie's response left his hands shaking as he slid one finger inside her body. A moment later her inner muscles
gripped him powerfully as she began to tremble from the approaching climax.

Megan was drowning in the sensations, the pleasure Devin's touch brought. The hedonistic side she'd forgotten she had came out in full force, and she wanted more.

She was close, so close to the edge. But she didn't want to go there alone. Not this time. Not after so long. “Dev,” she whispered, causing his hooded eyes to meet hers.

He seemed to understand, sliding his big body up to cover hers as he kneed her thighs apart. His weight was welcome, blissful, and she held her breath in anticipation as he sought entrance.

Oh, yes,
her body seemed to sigh as he filled her, and she felt her trembles of pleasure echo through Dev's shoulders and arms.

She couldn't hold his stare. It caused her heart to stutter, and she only wanted to enjoy this moment. Closing her eyes, she met his first thrust, and stars burst behind her eyelids.

Then she couldn't think at all. She could only hold on to Dev as the wave took her higher. Vaguely she could hear Dev's breath labor, hear him mumble her name into her hair as he pulled her tightly to him. Dev's arms held her together as she began to shatter, prolonging the pleasure until she felt Dev join her on that precipice.

Devin claimed her mouth in a kiss that scorched her, and Megan exploded in white-hot pleasure as he sent them tumbling over the edge together.

 

Reality was slow to return, and Megan wasn't encouraging it. She didn't want to have to face the unpleasant thoughts starting to niggle at the edges of her conscience. The dreamy, fuzzy weightlessness of afterglow, the feel of Devin's breath against her neck as it evened out to normal,
the lazy sweep of his hand over her hip and thigh… Reality could wait. It would only spoil the moment, and she wanted this moment to last as long as possible.

Forever,
something whispered, and she pushed the thought away. She and Devin weren't meant to be forever; she'd learned that the first time. But she was more than willing to enjoy this small interlude from reality without expectation of something more.

She could salve her conscience with the knowledge she was being realistic about
that,
at least.

“Nice tattoo,” Dev mumbled against her ear as his fingers traced the butterfly. She'd noticed the way the tattoo had drawn his attention—and his hands and his mouth—repeatedly.

“Thanks.” Her voice seemed rusty and thick, but then, so did Devin's. “It hurt like hell getting it, but I love it.”

“I never dreamed you'd get a tattoo. You just…”

“Don't seem like the type?” she finished for him. “You and everyone else.” Dev stiffened a little for some reason, and his hand stalled briefly on her hip. The moment passed quickly, though, and Megan didn't comment. “The artist in Albany was dating my roommate at the time, so we knew each other a little bit. He did everything to try to talk me out of it, and I think he was surprised when he couldn't.”

There was that tension again. Was Dev somehow disapproving of her tattoo? Was that why he was so fascinated by it? “Very talented guy.”

“I think so. If you're thinking about getting one yourself, I'll give you his name and number. He'd be worth the trip.”

“I'll pass.” Dev used his hand to pull her even more snugly against him, and she curled happily into his warmth. “I've heard that's a painful place to get ink.”

“Well, I put it on my hip so I can see it but my clients can't. Most people don't think ‘Accomplished Professional I Can Tell My Problems To' when they see a tattoo. Regardless of the quality,” she added.

“And when did you become a great fan of butterflies?”

Dev knew her, that was for sure. She'd never been a girlie-girl type liking unicorns and butterflies and rainbows. She tried to shrug it off with a casual “It just seemed appropriate at the time.”

“Why?”

She hesitated. Her usual response to the few people who knew about her tattoo wouldn't really work now. Not without sounding like a slam against him. “Well,” she hedged, “it was about a year after…after…”

“Us?” he supplied.

“Yeah, about a year after us. I had just moved to Albany, and I really felt like I was starting a whole new life. I'd grown and changed so much in that year, I didn't feel I was the same person I used to be.”

She felt Devin's nod of understanding, and she worried he'd taken offense. “Transformation,” he said.

“It's a trite image, I know. A cliché. But it felt right on the money. And Keith—the artist—understood. He'd watched me come out of my cocoon, but knew I hadn't started to fly yet. That's why he made it look like it's about to take off.” She sighed. “It's more about the possibilities that come from change.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and the vibrations moved through her, as well. “Spoken like a shrink.”

She elbowed him in response, but it did bring a smile to her face she knew he couldn't see.

Then Devin sobered, his hand pausing on her waist like
a weight. “Regardless of what you may think, I assure you it wasn't my intention to hold you back somehow.”

She rolled over and met his eyes. “I know,” she said honestly, but Dev frowned at her in disbelief. “At least, I do
now.
Time has given me some perspective. And regardless of what I've said recently, I don't hold you fully responsible for us. I made some mistakes, too.”

“The folly and hubris of youth.”

“
Hubris?
Did you really just use the word
hubris?
”

Dev propped his head on his fist. “I'm a lawyer. I'm allowed to use arcane words in idle conversation for no good reason.”

She shook her head and sighed in censure, but Dev was unmoved and his cheeky grin didn't fade. “Some people hide their insecurities behind big vocabularies, using those big words to make themselves sound superior to others.” Dev arched an eyebrow at her and she wanted to smack him. “You're the most arrogant person I've ever met.”