“Because I’m difficult.”
“In what way?”
“Because everyone comes at a price, and I’m not afraid to put in a bid. People don’t like that. They’re intimidated because they can’t manipulate me. It makes them uncomfortable.” His lips tightened. “The joys of my upbringing.”
That had me narrowing my eyes at him. “With that assumption... what’s my price?”
“Yours isn’t monetary, I know that much.” His gaze dropped from mine to the glass and back up again. “Yours is probably emotional. I saw that today when you were upset at Sadie’s puppy-dog eyes. The interesting thing is that it doesn’t make me want to back away from you.
“It probably should. Ordinarily would. But that fucking mouth of yours...” His nostrils flared. “Those eyes...” He shook his head. “Somehow, when I opened that door to the dark room last night, I opened my personal version of Pandora’s box, and I can’t even be fucking mad about it.”
“You unleashed all the known evils on the world, did you?”
“My own personal demons more like.”
“You’re definitely not living up to the charming reputation you’re supposed to have.”
He wafted a hand. “That’s all press.”
“I’d never know,” I said dryly, before my tone deepened, and I whispered, “You’re my first, Devlin. The first guy I’ve been with, the first guy I’ve kissed or sucked or fucked... whatever this is to you, whether it’s just sex or whatever, you could probably hurt me. I’d ask that you at least try not to.”
My words triggered a darker scowl than before. “For God’s sake, I don’t want to hurt you. Not intentionally.”
I snickered at his addition of the word ‘intentionally.’ “I suppose I should be thankful?”
“Probably.” He cleared his throat. “This is just... Well, it’s normal, isn’t it? We’re two consenting adults. It’s only awkward because I’m not used to this.”
“And because you’re my boss,” I pointed out.
“That has nothing to do with it. I own the company, but Rhode is your boss.” He reached up and played with his bottom lip. “I scanned your emails. You do too much work.”
“We’re really going to talk about that now? After you’ve just fed me a fine carbonara and a beautiful Merlot.”
“You know your wines.” He arched a brow. “How?”
“My dad used to collect it.” Before he’d become an alcoholic. “He was of the French persuasion. Watered it down and gave me some for special occasions. Taught me a lot of boring stuff about it as well.” I tipped my glass at him then swirled the ruby red liquid around the bottom of the domed bowl and raised it to the light where it gleamed like garnet. “Fruity, with grassy notes... It’s definitely a Merlot, and definitely from New Zealand. Probably Auckland.”
“You may have just talked dirty to me,” he rasped, drawing my startled glance his way.
I laughed. “Really? The way to your cock is through wine?”
“And the way you handle the glass.”
“It’s all in the wrist action,” I said wryly, batting away his comment with a soft smile.
“What’s your favorite fruit?” he blurted out.
I frowned a little. “Why?”
“Just curious.”
Okaaaay.
When I told him, he bit his lip and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I asked warily.
“For being useless at this. I just—” He scowled. “I wanted to see you again.”
“That’s not something to be sorry about,” I told him gently. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“I guess. If you’re normal. But I’m not.”
“Maybe I don’t like normal,” I told him softly.
He licked his lips as he stared at mine, then quickly caught my eye. “Would you like to watch something on TV?”
I blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Like what?”
“I don’t care. I don’t watch TV.”
Amused, I curled my lips inward. “Then why would you want to watch it?”
His gaze was earnest, his words were too. “Because then I can put my arm around you and it won’t be odd.”
It was stupid for my heart to go ‘thunk,’ stupid to want his arm around me. Devlin Astley wasn’t a wise prospect. He had heartache written all over him. Not just from the way he was so ill-at-ease on a simple date in his own kitchen, to the fact he was bi, to how, by the sounds of it, every sexual encounter he’d had had come with a transaction... None of that stopped me from getting to my feet, holding out my hand, tightening my fingers around his and letting him lead me to the sofa, though.
Sometimes, in life, you had to make bad decisions along the way otherwise there’d be no fun, would there?
What was it Shakespeare said?
Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?
At least, when Devlin was done with me, I’d be better prepared for what was out there in the big pond that was the dating scene in New York. In the interim, I’d Netflix and chill with him. Any day of the damn week...
Twelve
Micah
I was thirteen when I realized my reason for appreciating One Direction had nothing to do with their melodies but because Harry Styles was cute. That was the day that I recognized I was different from my parents.
Different from all the other couples in church, from all the kids in Sunday School too.
I realized that hell and brimstone were my fate if I didn’t stop my disgusting urges. Recognized that I could stop myself from falling into temptation if I really tried… it was hard work, but worth it.
Until it stopped being worth it.
Until the urges weren’t just a form of temptation, but agonizing to avoid.
Until my desires were torture, my needs painful.
I denied myself for so long that even when I freed myself from the closet, I was still halfway in there. That was probably why last night’s debacle didn’t have me running for the hills.
It was also why I Google searched Devlin again.
I was used to drooling over my crushes from afar, and while Devlin had been within my touch, he was as far from my grasp as Harry or Zac Efron were. Especially with him on the top floor of Astley Tower.
“What would you say’s the hardest part of being a Brit in America?” asked a talk show host to a very cool and very calm Devlin.
If I hadn’t seen him for myself last night, I’d never have believed that the two men were the same person. It was like that guy in the Men In Black movie, the good one. Where the cockroach had lived inside the dude’s skin.
I mean, Devlin could never look like a cockroach, but talk about night and day.
The YouTube video was paused as that annoying ad for Premium popped up, and I reverted my attention to the screen.
Back-in-May Devlin was just as gorgeous as August-Devlin. He had eyes like burning embers—without the glow, the guy wasn’t a vampire—but they were rich and warm, and reminded me of Fall. Of the leaves scattering from the trees in the wind, of gray skies and nights in front of the fire. Fall, for me, wasn’t like that, not being a California native, but it was what I always dreamed of seeing, the changing of the seasons in Massachusetts.