Second Chances (The Lust List: Devon Stone #2) Read online

  Devon drops our bags on a bench and walks back toward me. I stand with my back to the closed door, worried about him.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask. “I’m sorry that you didn’t find what you wanted. I’m sorry the truth is so painful, but—”

  He closes the space between us. No words. Only his mouth on mine. His hands grip my wrists and force my arms over my head. I twist my hands around and grab the doorframe as he kisses my neck. My head tilts to the side and I let out an involuntary moan as his tongue presses against my skin. He kisses my collarbone and the hollow of my throat. His mouth trails along the skin barely visible above the top of my dress.

  His touch–his mouth–feel amazing, but it’s not what we should be doing. “Talk to me Devon.”

  Devon buries his face in my hair and inhales.

  “You smell good.” His voice is gruff, and he sounds like he’s about to devour me. My body seems to scream, Oh, please do. “Every part of you smells good. Tastes good.”

  My breathing quickens as I grow more excited. Okay, we’ll talk later. It’s like he’s ignited me, and I want to give him everything he wants.

  I move in close to his ear and whisper, “How would you know what I taste like everywhere?”

  I barely get the last syllable out when Devon reaches down under my dress and grabs my ass pulling my hips toward him.

  I’m trying to catch my breath when he growls into my ear, “Then educate me, Miss Margot.”

  I try to kiss him, but he brings one hand up, gripping my jaw and holding my head in place. There are mere inches between my mouth and his, but all I can do is stare into his icy glare. He holds his gaze on my own as his other hand follows along the elastic of my panties, tracing a line with his finger that sends shockwaves through me.

  His hand plunges beneath the thin fabric, and his fingertips against my sensitive, aching skin make me want to cry out from the anticipation. I feel like he’s taken over every sense. I close my eyes and my mind fills with Lust List Devon. Shirtless, hot, wet Devon. I savor his intoxicating scent–his cologne mixed with the musky natural smell of sweat. I open my eyes, and here’s the real Devon, angry disappointed Devon. His adrenaline and rage seems to linger on his skin, and my breathing grows more unsteady as I watch him watch me.

  I want him to take me. I want him to do whatever he wants.

  I know I’m wet, and when his hand presses hard against my aching folds, he lets out a low moan. Now he knows it too. He moves his hand around in a slow circle, and fire shoots up into my core. His touch doesn’t lighten as he slides up, stopping when his fingertips reach my clit. With one finger, he moves in a slow line, up and down, and my hips involuntarily lift, inviting him to do more.

  He still holds my head firmly in place, and his eyes seem to scan my face observing my reactions–how my eyes can hardly focus on him. How each time he moves his fingers, I give a soft moan.

  Then he leans in and his lips crush into mine. I can barely breathe as he kisses me with force. His fingers find my wet opening, and he pushes one inside me.

  I let out a stifled moan that travels from my lips to his.

  He pulls his finger out and then penetrates me again. This time two fingers. He curves them up and finds the one spot that makes me lose control. He’s coaxing me with those fingers, and I try to keep quiet.

  Devon pulls his mouth away from mine, and I find myself staring up into the pitch-black pupils of his intense eyes.

  My chest rises and falls in deep, staggered breaths. Heat floods me from inside, and I feel my muscles growing tighter and tighter. My knees shake, and I don’t know how I can hold myself up anymore.

  He bites my earlobe and whispers, “Come for me.”

  His hand thrusts, and I can only wish it weren’t his hand at all. I close my eyes imagining, if this feels as good as it does, what would it be like to have him on me? In me? Our pleasure building up at the same time?

  In and out, his movements are smooth, and I quickly feel myself coming unbound.

  I shove my face into the side of his neck to muffle the noises that escape me as my muscles contract around his fingers and I come. Intense waves rush through me, and Devon’s hands don’t abandon me until I’ve settled and come back to planet Earth. I’m gasping for breath when he pulls away.

  He gives me his sexy grin as the same fingers that just brought me pleasure enter his mouth. He slowly pulls them out, holding my eye contact the whole time. I feel my cheeks flush. I can’t tell if I’m mortified or ready for round two.

  “Yeah,” he says, “you definitely taste good.”

  I rush to his mouth, kissing him, begging him for more. His hands run down my back and find my ass. He squeezes and pulls me even closer. The thin fabric covering me isn’t forgiving as his jeans rub against me, making me squirm–my body too sensitive from that orgasm. And his hard-on is all too apparent beyond the rough texture of his jeans.

  Devon pushes me toward the bed. I move quickly, eager to get him on me, but he catches up behind me, and I stop in my tracks as I feel his breath on my neck. Chills rush through me, and I spin around to face him. As I do, he takes another step closer. With no room between us, every step he takes forces me backward, and one step too far, the bed hits the back of my legs. I start to lose my balance, but Devon catches me with one arm. In one swift move, he pulls my dress over my head. Only in my bra and panties, I feel cold, but he brings me up against him again, and I’m instantly on fire. My hands get to work fidgeting with his belt. I don’t know how he plans for things to go, but I do not want Devon Stone dressed anymore.

  I yank the belt from his jeans, tossing it on the floor. I reach under his t-shirt and graze my nails along his skin tracing the bottom indent of his abs. When I reach his sides, I bunch up the shirt in my hands and push it up, urging him to take the damn thing off. Now I have him shirtless, his hair disheveled, his eyes on me.

  I unbutton his jeans, but before I can unzip them, he pushes me backward, making me fall onto the bed. I can’t help but laugh at how amazing I feel–my natural high of being near Devon. I kick off my sandals as he finishes undressing. I’d say he takes my breath away but it’s not that at all. In fact my breathing intensifies, my senses come to life. I sit up and reach for him, longing for him to touch me, but he takes a step back, leaving me on the bed, wanting. Waiting.

  He walks to his bag, rummaging through for a second and pulls out a condom. We both came prepared. We both anticipated this. He comes back to me, and I feel like I’m on display as he evaluates me, taking in my messy hair, my heaving breasts, my barely-covered body. My legs tremble as they dangle off the side of the bed. Without a word, he unlatches my bra and yanks down my panties, tossing both to the side.

  Devon hovers over me and kisses my forehead, my cheek, my lips. Gorgeous, naked Devon kisses my bare shoulder and then stands up straighter and grabs my knees, pulling my legs up and urging them to wrap around his body.

  I try to imagine what I must look like to Devon–my hair cascading in untamed waves over my shoulders, my naked body clinging to his naked body. I smile hoping he likes what he sees.

  He gives me a sexy half-grin. “You’re beautiful,” he says, and I feel my cheeks flush as I smile back at him. He runs his hands up my thighs, grabs my hips, and thrusts me toward him. Now I can feel his hard length pressed against my skin.

  I move myself against him, and he leans down, his eyes intent on me, his grin long gone. He tangles his hand into my mess of hair as if wrapping boxing tape around his fist. I feel his hand against my head, and he tugs my hair, the sensation bordering the threshold of pleasure and pain. He’s pulled my head back, exposing my neck, and my breath catches.

  “Stay still,” he growls.

  But I can’t. I want him like he wants me, and him taking his time, teasing…it’s too much to bear. I take a deep breath as ecstasy rolls through me. Devon’s mouth finds my neck. He kisses and sucks and nibbles. I part my lips but stay silent.

  “Don’
t move,” he says.

  I stay frozen in anticipation as he leans up. The second his hands are off me, I crave his touch. My heart pounds. I hear the sound of a foil wrapper ripping. I take a deep breath and close my eyes pleading for him to get in me. And then he touches me again. His erection teases my opening, and I wrap my legs around his waist again. I smile as he leans down over me again.

  “Look at me.” His demands turn me on, and I obey.

  His eyes are dark with lust, so I tease him again, rubbing myself against him and arching my back.

  I try to speak. “I think I’ll always make you angry right before—”

  My words are cut off by my own cry of pleasure as Devon enters me in one swift motion. He fills me deep, and I forget what I was saying. My hands clutch the bed’s quilt. In a smooth rhythm of in and out, Devon explores me from inside. His hand trails along my face, my jaw, my breasts. He puts more weight on me, as he drops down closer. The room spins, and my temperature rises, as he rests one arm next to my ear and reaches his other arm underneath the small of my back, lifting my hips higher. He pulls back and rams me with more force. A loud “oh” escapes me. I turn my head toward his arm, pressing my mouth into his hot, tanned skin. I savor his salty taste as he thrusts even harder. My body on fire, my muscles weakening, I give all of myself to Devon. He holds me up, supports my body, claims me. The tension in me builds as he persists, his own grunting encouraging me to let go. Again.

  I swallow hard as the first shudder runs through me. My tingling fingers grip the flesh of his back. My nails dig in, and he pushes into me faster. Stars flash through my vision as the room goes out of focus. The entire world consists of me and Devon. It’s just us. It’s… it’s… Like a wound rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter, my entire body breaks loose. I scream out as I come again, ecstasy overtaking me, and I feel myself contracting around his length. More moans escape from me as I feel him reach his own release. His breathing is staggered and angry as he comes inside me, and when the world seems to settle again, we both collapse in a heap onto the mattress. Devon rolls to one side, and I turn to face him. Wrapping one leg over his, I try to minimize the space between us. He pushes my hair away from my face, and I lean close to kiss him, appreciating the sheen of sweat on his skin.

  His eyes, still dark with lust, stare at me as his breathing settles. He wraps his arms around me, and I watch as he relaxes. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted a distraction.

  And I gave it to him.

  Somewhere in the night, we found our way beneath the sheets. I could’ve stayed there for days with Devon, but as the sunlight snuck its way into my dreams, waking me up, I found myself alone in bed with a Devon-sized indent in the mattress next to me. I still reach out as though I’ll touch him, but my hand only finds cool linen. As the new day settles into me, the rest of my surroundings come into focus.

  Bright streams of sunshine embrace the room, and I can hear the shower running in the bathroom. We do have a long trip back. Guess it’s time to get started.

  I climb out of bed, wrapping a tangled sheet around me, and subtle aches remind me of last night. I smile as I look around for my bag. Right next to Devon’s where he left it on an upholstered bench. The symbolism might be cheesy, but looking at those bags side-by-side, it feels like so much more. Two bags, two people, two hearts. Okay, I’m making myself gag now, but I can’t deny this is starting to feel like a relationship. But I’ll keep that to myself for now.

  I dig through and find clothes for the day. Stepping into my jeans, I take notice of Devon’s bag lying open. T-shirts and denim poke out from him sorting through and grabbing what he needed. And an envelope peeks out from one side. I recognize it as the same white envelope he stole from his father’s study. The will.

  Yesterday was awful. With our expectations so high, the fall to reality was that much harder, especially for Devon who thought, for certain, he’d get to see his mother again. A lump forms in my throat as I consider all the lies in the Stone family. What would he do now? How could I help?

  I pull out the will. Maybe there’s more information in here that can help us think of what to do next. Us. That sounds so good to me now. Of course we can get through this mom ordeal. But as I free the envelope from Devon’s duffel bag, something else inside rattles, falling deeper to the bottom. I could almost ignore it, but it sounded like…

  I look over the edge, feeling horrible now that I’m officially snooping. But there, in the corner at the bottom, I see a little tin case. A metallic blue and small enough to fit in a pocket. But there’s no questioning the noise I heard from inside it. My nerves race as I return the will and pull the box from his bag. Please, no, Devon. Please. I listen intently at the sound of the running water. If this is what I think it is, then what do I do?

  I lift the lid.

  A small, plastic bottle. And a little bag. If only it were that harmless.

  The little amber bottle is filled with pills. White ones, yellow ones. Blue. The white label on it reads Lucas Shelton. But it’s not even those that crush my heart. I rub my stomach, trying to hold in the raging feelings brewing deep in me. My eyes well with tears as I lift the bag. Pinching it in between my thumb and index finger as if any more contact will burn my skin, I hold it up. Tiny dents and creases in the well-worn plastic seem to act like arrows, pointing at the white powder inside.

  He said it was all in his past. I saw him turn down drugs right in front of me. Was it all an act? He packed for a short trip, and this is what he brought. I drop the bag back into the tin box and shut the lid.

  He lied. He’s been lying.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and open them again. What am I supposed to do? I sit against the bed staring at the box until I hear the water shut off. He’s going to know I went through his stuff. How do I explain? No, I’m not the bad guy here. He doesn’t want me assuming things about him. He told me himself to ask him straightforward when I needed to know something, and right now…I fucking needed to know.

  I place the tin box on the nightstand next to me and cross my arms, watching the bathroom door.

  When Devon emerges, I almost don’t have it in me to confront him but it’s too late. He towel dries his messy hair as he walks out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of cargo shorts, no shirt. He looks delicious, but his eyes land on me. I’m trembling, and the tears won’t stop. He raises his eyebrows, catching on that something is wrong.

  I look to the end table, and Devon’s gaze follows. I watch him as he studies the blue box before looking back at me. He doesn’t say a word–and instead lets out an audible sigh.

  My voice shudders as I speak. “I won’t make a single assumption. You tell me what this is.”

  “It’s nothing,” he says as he strolls to his bag and pulls out a shirt, yanking it over his head and stretching it over his body. “Stay out of my stuff.”

  Images of sleeping with him last night run through my mind, but now they hurt. There’s a throbbing in my chest and not enough oxygen in this room.

  “It’s not nothing, Devon.” I stand up and try to keep my voice quiet. “You told me the pills were left at your place. You told me you weren’t doing anything like this anymore.”

  “I also told you to lighten up. Relax and mind your own business.”

  He’s packing his bag, and I’m furious, ready to completely lose it. “Are you kidding? You lied to me. Everything you said about your history being a thing of the past, about not doing drugs anymore, about these exact pills specifically. You told me to trust you. To give you more credit. I did. And you lied. What else have you been keeping from me?”

  He doesn’t answer and instead returns to the bathroom, throwing his wet towel on the tile floor. I follow behind him. He’s not getting away with this one so easily.

  “I want answers, Devon. I’m not leaving with you until I get them.”

  “What answers do you need? Better yet, what answers do you want?”

  My chest grows heavier as I wipe a tear fro
m my cheek. “I want the truth. I want you to answer–”

  “Wasn’t yesterday an answer enough? My mom’s dead. I have a surprise sister who hates me. You see what I deal with–the random shit that I have to take? Like hell am I going to go through all this shit without…help.”

  He doesn’t care at all that he lied to me. “You consider those help? What do they do? Make you high? Make you pass out–”

  “They detach me from this hellhole called life. Separate me from the harsh reality that I was born into something I didn’t want.”

  Great. And while he’s numb to the real world, where does that put me? I don’t know which hurts more–the fact he lied or that I still don’t know anything about the real Devon.

  “What?” he asks, standing in front of me, an annoyed expression on his face. The same expression he got when he took my phone apart–when I was the one going overboard.

  But that’s not what this is. I’m not overreacting. A flutter in my stomach makes me second guess that. Maybe there’s more to it. Maybe his reasoning is genuine. Maybe I can handle it.

  No. I can take risks with Devon. I want to take risks with him. But I won’t compromise on this.

  I look up at him, tears stinging my eyes. I’m a fool. Standing here, shaking, as if I’m completely helpless. But if Devon wants to take charge of his own life this way, then I can do the same.

  I walk through the room, picking up my dress, my bra, my panties–the clothing tossed aside in last night’s lust. I force back my urge to scream as I step into my sandals and thrust the dirty clothes into Maddie’s duffel bag. That’s how I feel now too. Dirty. Giving in to my lust with a man I, apparently, can’t even trust.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, walking over to me.

  “Have you been taking pills the entire time since we met?” I sling the duffel bag over my shoulder and pick up my purse.

  “You aren’t going to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

  “No. But I can tell you what I can and can’t do, and I can’t be with you if you’re going to–if that’s,” I nod toward the tin box, “the lifestyle you choose.”