It annoyed me how happy that made me. “Really?”
His lips twisted. “Really. I won’t have anything to wear tomorrow.”
“We’re the same height. Your ass is a bit smaller than mine—”
“Is that a complaint?” he teased.
“No, it’s perfectly bitable I assure you,” I retorted with a smirk. “You should be able to wear a suit of mine.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
Despite myself, I had to smile as I reached over and rubbed a hand over his thigh. “I’d get quite a kick out of seeing you all togged up in one of my suits. You weren’t made for Brooks Brothers,” I said dryly.
“Don’t be a snob. We’re not all gazillionaires.”
He said that with such ease, when I knew his circumstances had to hurt. I’d bet, before his father had tossed him out of the family with the warning not to return until he ‘straightened’ himself out, he’d have worn suits like mine.
The lack of regret in his voice always surprised me when this topic reared its head, but then, to Micah, I’d quickly learned that freedom was worth more to him than money in the bank.
I tugged on his suit jacket. “I’m sure silk will become you.”
He smiled. “We’ll see tomorrow I guess.”
“We will indeed.” I growled under my breath as I got to my feet and moved into him. He parted his legs, letting me between them, and I pressed my mouth to his, slanting my head to the side as he slipped his arms around my waist and took what I gave him.
The feel of him against me, Jesus, something about it always took my breath away.
This past week had been unanticipated, but I’d enjoyed every unexpected moment of it.
I could never have foreseen that my visiting a dark room would lead to this, but I wasn’t about to complain.
I’d soak this up until he grew bored with what I had to offer, and then I’d return to my usual modus operandi.
Only, when he was done with me, I didn’t think moving on would be as easy as trawling a boring gala for expensive pussy... that was something I’d have to deal with later, though.
For now, his mouth was on mine, our cocks were rubbing up against one another, and he was going to sleep in my bed tonight... life was good.
Eighteen
Micah
“Not this again,” Devlin growled.
“It’s important,” came the snapped retort. “You think I’m happy dying knowing that you haven’t made any arrangements for the future?”
“I don’t want kids, Father.” He sighed, and it was weary. So weary. Like he could just take a nap and sleep for a hundred years. Was it just me, or was his voice raspier? “How many times do I have to tell you?”
No, he definitely sounded rusty.
“You have a duty to the Astley line, Devlin. You can’t just ignore it.”
“I don’t want to argue. I have enough shit on my plate right now without talking about something that’s fait accompli. When you die, I’ll inherit. And when I die, someone else will get it. It’s entailed for a reason. There are always career bachelors in every line.”
“Not ours,” was his father’s snarled reply.
I opened the bathroom door now I’d finished up, and Devlin shot me an embarrassed look as he rubbed his temples, making me wonder if he had a headache. I thought it said a lot that he hadn’t switched from hands free, though. That he hadn’t quickly lowered the volume so I couldn’t hear what his father was saying.
Was it a warning?
I returned his look with a weak smile then pointed at the door and waved.
Without looking back, I made my way out, glad that Sadie had left earlier so I didn’t have to deal with her as I moved toward the elevator. The door closed behind me, shutting out his father’s strident voice. I knew they spoke every day, and also knew that after the call, he had a couple of meetings with some VPs and his EA.
In the time I’d known him, I’d learned that Devlin’s days were long. But that wasn’t something new to me. With my father and his company before Google had bought it, he’d worked nineteen-hours without complaint. Sometimes, he hadn’t even bothered coming home.
Long, hard days were part of the corporate life, but I had a feeling that something else drove Devlin.
My father had lived and breathed his software program, well aware that the moment he could get a massive tech company to buy it, was the day that he’d make bank. And it’d worked. He’d made two-hundred-sixty million dollars on that elaborate piece of code. Afterward, he’d retired. Now, he spent most of his time playing the stock exchange, because he had a pathological terror of being poor again.
He’d been raised in a bad neighborhood in Stockholm, in a city that was supposed to be safe.
His aunty had been one of the tellers involved in the Norrmalmstorg robbery, where a bank heist had gone wrong. She’d been trapped with the thieves for five days, and during that time held hostage, she and her fellow captives had worked to protect their captors.
It was a story that fascinated me because it affected my family, and it was where the term ‘Stockholm syndrome’ came from.
That event had a massive impact on my dad, and he’d worked hard to make sure that he and his family lived in good areas—no matter the country they were inhabiting. Of course, when I thought of where I lived now, and if he knew of my address, he’d probably be getting hives.
I kind of hoped he did.
And if that made me cruel, then so be it.
Being cast aside, claimed as the golden child all my childhood, then tossed out like I was a piece of junk didn’t exactly put me in a friendly frame of mind.
However, that past was what drove Dad.
I was curious as hell as to what drove Devlin.
Our time together had been pretty intense, but not enough to learn the ins and outs of what made the man. Especially when getting him to open up to me was hard.
The intensity between us, however, was what drove me to continue this madness despite his quirks. To head up to his office when he asked, to seek him out simply because he said he was having a bad day.
A part of me, I’d admit, was trying to stay separate, trying not to get too attached before he came to his senses and went back to women. But then he’d say something that would blow my mind. Or he’d look at me like I stole his breath. That alone was intoxicating, addictive. Devlin, did he but know it, was one massive mixed signal, but I quite liked that about him.
He was an original, someone who danced to their own beat, and there were too few of that type of person around.
Still...
‘You have to do your duty,’ his father had said.
Duty was shacking up with a duchess and making little dukes. Not miniature Devlins, just dukes. More Astleys.
I couldn’t imagine having to live like that. To exist only for duty. Was that how he’d been raised?
I mean, I could judge my folks for a lot, but though my dad had worked hard, he’d been my biggest supporter until I’d come out. Any pivotal games, he’d been there. Science fairs, plays at the end of the year, PTA conferences, and meetings at school, he’d attended them all. Somehow managing to make time in his busy schedule for what he considered important events that steered my education in the right direction.