The Rake (Boston Belles #4)(63)

“Why aren’t you sitting at a police station right now?”

“He is just a kid, and his girlfriend is pregnant. They have no money. He just wanted to let off some steam. Probably sent a friend of his to scare me in the Common.” Although that still couldn’t explain the man at Madame Mayhem the day Devon had taken me home. “I don’t think I’ll hear from him again.”

“You’re crazy, and you’re carrying my baby,” he said matter-of-factly, more to himself than to me.

He didn’t move his hand from my mound, but he didn’t give me the release I craved either. Why did he withhold my orgasm like that? Wasn’t this a crime against humanity?

“I’ll be fine,” I bit out. “I’ve taken care of myself for a long-ass time now. Never had any problems.”

“A few little rules, and then you can go back to entertaining me in my bed,” Devon clarified, letting me know I was not off the hook yet.

I didn’t answer, because I wanted to get it over with and for him to just touch me there. It was pathetic, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed to take my mind off things. This was a coping mechanism, okay?

“Rule number one—you never leave Simon’s side when you’re at work.”

“Bodyguard Si?” I laughed throatily. “Whatever.”

“No. Not whatever. You’re not a teenager, Emmabelle. Give me a yes or no answer.”

Sheesh.

“Fine! Yes.”

“Rule number two …” I felt his pinky grazing my opening. My whole body awakened with excitement. I eagerly opened my legs for him. Finally, I was getting some action that didn’t require any batteries.

“Don’t go out alone. Always have someone accompany you. It could be your mates, your parents, Simon, or even me.”

A bold-ass request, but again, I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to. He was hardly here twenty-four-seven to watch me.

“Sure.” Then, when he didn’t move his hand again, I groaned. “Oh, right. Yes or no. Yes.”

“Last condition …” Devon’s fingers probed my opening, closer than ever. It only took one push for him to fill me completely. His other hand kept working on my breasts. “Move in with me. Just for the time being. I could protect you. We can look for an apartment for you in my building while you’re there. It has top-notch security, so I never have to worry about you.”

My eyes popped open and alarm bells began blaring in my head.

“Move in with you?” I repeated slowly.

I felt his nose nuzzling the crook of my neck.

“Come now, Sweven. You’re brave enough to shoot someone in the face if they come after you. Surely, you can tolerate a few months rooming with the father of your child.”

It was a dare. His index finger slipped into me, and I gasped, arching my back, my nipples resurfacing from the waterline. Devon bent down and captured one of them in his mouth, sucking fervently.

“So sweet. So, bloody sweet.” His straight, white teeth grazed the sensitive peaks. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he murmured, swirling his tongue around the tip of my nipple before nibbling on it. At the same time, he mercilessly fucked me with his finger under the water.

I pushed my groin toward his hand, chasing my release, knowing it was close.

“You’ll never be able to tame me,” I warned.

“I have no desire to.” He licked his way up my neck, sealing my mouth with a red-hot kiss. With all the tongue and droplets of water and so much desire, I thought I was going to combust. “I like you just the way you are. Unlikely, I know, considering your mule of a personality, but true.”

“I’m a mess,” I panted.

“Be my mess.”

It was more tempting than I could admit. Alluring like a beacon of light in a sea of darkness.

I came undone, climaxing on his fingers. I clenched around them so hard he laughed into our kiss, the spasms making my muscles tighten.

After a few seconds, he pulled away, quirking an eyebrow.

“Just for a few months,” I lamented—more to myself than to him.

It wasn’t like I had anywhere to put a baby in my current apartment anyway.

“Just for a few months,” he repeated, biting my lower lip playfully.

The glint in his eyes said it all.

I’d agreed to be his, even for a little while.

Giving up the thing I held most dear.

Complete freedom.





Four days later, I moved into Devon’s loft.

It was the first time I’d visited his apartment. Throughout our long and chaotic relationship, I was the one calling the shots, so I always demanded he come to see me.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

I had no idea what to expect, but somehow, the place fit into my perception of him perfectly.

An extensive chunk of open space with furnishings and colors I would imagine Queen Elizabeth herself favored. The lack of walls and vast hallways surprised me. The place looked like a repurposed warehouse. I’d always imagined Devon in a sprawling, dark manor—cluttered with family portraits and expensive yet stunningly ugly antiques. Then I remembered he didn’t like closed spaces. He was somewhat of a claustrophobic.

It was a real upgrade from my tiny apartment.