“I—”
He cuts me off with a shake of his head. His other hand is still inside my panties, and my body trembles as he pulls free, then lifts his hand and sucks on one of the fingers that was just inside me.
My core clenches, and I hate myself for wanting—no, needing—more.
I bite the inside of my cheek as a reminder not to go too far down the rabbit hole. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and lift my head to meet his eyes. It’s a mistake. All I want to do is melt into him, a willing victim to the hypnotic power of those eyes.
No. I need to stay focused, and I force myself to be steel and stone, stalwart against this man who hurt me. And no way is one good orgasm going to make up for what he did. On the contrary, I want answers, and before I’ve even fully formed the question in my mind, I blurt out, “What happened? Why the hell did you leave me?”
His lips part, and my heart stutters in anticipation of his answer. But he says nothing. All I see are the shadows in his eyes, the pain so deeply etched on his face that despite everything I want to pull him close and kiss his forehead.
But he only shakes his head slowly, his expression so sad my heart aches.
For a moment, our eyes lock, and I think that maybe whatever pain and betrayal was between us has been exorcised.
But then he takes a single step back, and I know that nothing has been repaired at all.
“Go back to New York.” His eyes meet mine, as hard and flat as a shark’s.
“I have an interview sched—”
“No. Just go, Ellie. There’s nothing for you here at all.”
My heart twists. The truth is, there’s not much for me in New York, either. Nothing but my work. But I push the thought aside and barrel on. “Al—Devlin,” I correct. “No. We need—”
But I can’t finish the thought. Not when he’s looking at me with those cold, empty eyes that are emerald green again, no longer that familiar, sandy brown.
He really isn’t Alex at all.
He steps closer, and I go tense, certain he’s going to touch me, and in that moment, I’m not sure if I desperately want him to, or if I’ll knee his balls if he dares to even try.
But that’s not what he’s doing. Instead, he reaches for the door handle and starts to pull it open. I step away, turning as I do so that for the first time I see the sporty black Tesla that he’d pushed me up against.
“Get in,” he says, holding the door open for me.
“What? Why?”
“I’m driving you home.”
Seriously? “I’m fine. I’ll walk.”
His hand closes around my wrist and he tugs me closer. “Just get in the car, Ellie.”
“Screw you. I said I can walk.” And the truth is I want to. Walk and think and clear my head. Most of all, I want distance from this man I once thought I knew.
For a moment, I’m certain he’s going to argue. But then he nods curtly, reaches into the passenger seat, and pulls out a small, canvas tote bag, the kind grocery store customers use instead of paper or plastic. He thrusts it at me, and I take it without thinking. “Have it your way. About the ride, I mean. But as for the rest of it…”
He trails off, his expression deadly serious. “I mean it, Ellie. Leave Laguna Cortez. Don’t play with fire. Put it all behind you for good. Me. This town. Everything. Leave,” he says, his eyes as hot and predatory as a wolf’s. “And don’t come back.”
Chapter Nine
I watch his taillights disappear, feeling a mixture of both relief and loss.
Relief at being alone so that I have the space to deal with my crazy emotions.
Loss that he hadn’t insisted on driving me. Alex would have. But Devlin?
I don’t know. How could I? Before tonight, I’d never met Devlin Saint. Not really.
To be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve met him now. Was that Saint who touched me? Saint who matched me breath for breath? Who took what he wanted as I’d intended to take from Mr. GT?
It must have been. The Alex I remember had always been tender, even when we’d clawed at each other, desperate to get undressed. We’d been wild and unbridled, but we hadn’t burned.
But oh, God, I’d burned tonight. And from little more than the touch of a finger and the heat of his mouth.
A shiver cuts through me as I remember, and I order myself to push it aside. I’d come out tonight looking for a fast fuck and a violent orgasm, but the point was that I’d be in charge. And, most important, that I’d walk away.
Saint had ripped my plan to shreds.
He’d stolen my control, shattered my will, made me long for a man I’d lost long ago, and then he’d coldly and firmly ordered me to go.
Why?
Why seek me out if he wasn’t going to stay? Why tease me with the knowledge that the man I’d once loved has been hiding in plain sight all these years? Why lift the mask when the revelation only raises more questions?
For that matter, why wear the mask in the first place?
And the biggest question of all, why reveal himself to me if he’s only going to order me to leave?
I start to lift my hands in frustration, then remember the bag hanging from my arm. For the first time, it occurs to me that maybe he’s given me something that actually answers those questions. I open it eagerly, only to find the Sperry Topsiders I’d abandoned by the beach.
I laugh as I slip them on, overwhelmed by the absurd irony. I’m not Cinderella. Alex hasn’t been my Prince Charming for a very long time. And from what I’ve both read and now experienced, Devlin Saint isn’t in line for that throne, either.
Don’t play with fire, he’d said, and in the moment, I’d thought he meant the heat between us. Now, I think he has something to hide. More than that, I think that Devlin Saint just gave me the story of a lifetime. A billionaire philanthropist with a new identity and a buried past? Yeah, I think The Spall will be all over that.
As I start walking toward the hill, I pull out my phone and dial Roger, certain he’ll green-light the story. Of course, I’ve completely forgotten the time difference, and the phone rolls to voice mail.
“Roger, it’s me. Listen, you’re not going to believe—”
I cut myself off, the reality of what I’m saying suddenly hitting me as that shining question once more lights up my mind: Why?
“—I, um, sorry,” I continue into the phone. “Got distracted for a sec. I just wanted to say that you’re not going to believe the bullshit they pulled on me today, rescheduling the interview with Saint. But I’m on it. All’s good. I’ll check in when I have more. Right. Well, bye.”
I click off, feeling like an idiot, not sure if I’ve done the right thing, either as a person or as a reporter. But I can’t throw Alex to the wolves. Not now. Not yet. Because story of a lifetime or not, I’m not ready to screw him over. I wish I were. I should be. I shouldn’t give a flying fuck if whatever spotlight I might have the power to create shines so long and hard on him that he withers under the glare.
But the truth is that I still feel something for that prick. For Alex, anyway. For the man I used to know.
And until I know why he’s now Devlin, I can’t risk mucking something up for him. I’m not sure if that makes me kind or foolish, but I don’t suppose it matters. The bottom line is that I’ve got another story to chase, even if Roger doesn’t know about it yet.