Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(115)
The Morgan boys stayed over quite regularly those first few years after their mother left, but I never really thought much about it. Mom stepped in again after Cameron left, letting Devin and Lucas know they are always welcome to join us for dinner. If they don’t stop over, I usually refrigerate the leftovers in case they turn up later.
Case in point.
He leans back, looking at me upside down. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Shush, asshole. You know the score, and you should’ve said something before.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.” He spins around on the beanbag, pinning me with an earnest look.
“Since when?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Things are rather strange tonight.
“Since ever.” His tone is sullen, his face impassive.
I crouch down in front of him. “What’s wrong, Devin? I know something is up. You can talk to me. I won’t judge.”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Can’t a guy hang with his best friend without the third degree?” he snaps, and I lurch back as if slapped. A bitter taste floods my mouth. “Shit!” He jumps up as I straighten my spine, quickly disguising the hurt from my face.
I’m a master at hiding my true feelings from Devin, so it’s a cakewalk. Doesn’t mean the rebuke hurts any less. I’ve seen others bear the brunt of Devin’s temper in the past, but it’s rarely ever me. The only time we’ve ever snapped at one another is in the middle of a heated argument.
“I’m sorry, Ange. That was uncalled for, and I didn’t mean it.” He gulps again, averting his eyes. His hands land on my shoulders. “What you think of me matters so much. More than you could ever realize.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
He runs the tip of one finger across my cheek in a move that’s decidedly tender. “Your skin is so smooth,” he whispers.
My heart flutters wildly in my chest, and that same intense dark look shimmers in his eyes. He leans forward, and my heart starts somersaulting. Gently, he presses his forehead to mine, closing his eyes as he wraps his arms around me. He emits a musky, woodsy scent that is fresh and inviting, all male, and pure Devin. The warmth of his body heats every part of me, and I close my eyes, savoring every thrilling second.
Devin is usually very hands-off. The polar opposite of Ayden who is hugely touchy-feely, thanks to growing up in a very loving environment surrounded by three younger sisters. “It’s why I do what I do. Why it has to be this way,” he rasps.
“You know I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Weirdo.” Throwing back his head, he laughs. “Seriously, Dev. You’re acting even more weird than normal tonight.”
He feigns hurt. “The lady doth wound me.”
I hold onto his forearms as I peer up at him. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I don’t want you worrying about me.” He removes his hands from my waist, and I want to cry out in protest.
“Then stop all the drinking and fighting and screwing around.” The words pop out of my mouth unbidden, but I’m not sorry I said it. Too often I’ve bitten my tongue around him, for fear of pushing him away, but I can’t stand back and watch him push that self-destruct button anymore. “You’re throwing your life away.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Don’t go there. Not tonight. Please. I just can’t hear it tonight.”
I scan his face, and that earlier vulnerability is back. I don’t know what’s happened to turn him all melancholy and defenseless, but I’m not going to press him right now. For the first time in ages, it’s like the old Devin is in the house, and I’m not going to push the issue and ruin things.
“Okay.” I nod, giving him a gentle shove. He plops back down onto the beanbag. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring you up a plate.”
I trudge down the stairs with a frown. Devin has always kept a part of himself hidden away. From an early age, both Ayden and I realized that, and we learned to accept it, but, now I wonder if we should’ve been more insistent when we were younger. Forced him to share, because whatever the hell his demons are, they are eating him alive.
I’m watching the microwave circle round and round while my thoughts wander. The click of the door wrenches me out of my head, and I whip around as Ayden strolls into the kitchen. “Perfect timing.” He grins, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Enough in that for two?”
“Didn’t you eat either?” I shake my head as the microwave pings.
“I did, but what can I say? I’m a growing boy.” He smirks, patting his flat stomach while leaning back against the counter. The movement causes his shirt to stretch across his impressive shoulders. Where Devin is lean with defined muscles in all the right places, Ayden is a chiseled rock-hard specimen of the perfect man. Years of football training have honed his body into a solid block of muscle. From broad shoulders to a tapered waist with an eight-pack and huge muscular thighs, there isn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on his body.
How he manages to eat like a horse and still look like a modern-day blond, spikey-haired Greek God is beyond me. “Like what you see, Lina?” he teases, grabbing an apple from the bowl and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. His blue eyes blaze with mirth.