On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [49]
As if aware that she was humoring him, Devon set his mouth in a firm line and made a curt after-you gesture down the hall. Trying not to smirk and managing to yawn instead, Lilah went.
They passed several closed doors—the place was even more enormous than she’d realized the night before, distracted as she’d been—before Devon pushed one open and ushered Lilah into a pretty wood-paneled room filled with sleek modern furniture. The bed against the left wall was low and wide, set under a creamy tufted suede headboard.
“The bathroom is fully stocked; anything you need should be in there.”
Lilah went where Devon pointed and found a white marbled bathroom with gorgeous antique mirrors on the walls and a deep tub with jets.
It wasn’t quite as breathtaking as the master bath with Devon’s beautiful mosaic shower, but it was still more luxurious than anyplace Lilah’d ever lived. And it was hers for the next four weeks.
She blinked at herself in the mirror. Yep, still plain Lilah Jane staring back at her, kinky curls, freaky green eyes, too-small mouth and all.
“Did you find the toothbrushes?”
Lilah looked blankly at the smooth mirror. It didn’t appear to be a medicine cabinet, but there were no obvious cabinets or drawers, only a freestanding pedestal sink with a gracefully curved bowl.
A tanned, corded forearm dusted with mahogany hair moved past her face. Devon tapped his closed fist against the corner of the mirror and it swung forward on silent hinges revealing five shelves stocked with assorted jars and bottles.
Lilah reached in and snagged a toothbrush still wrapped in plastic.
“My, my. What a well prepared host you are.”
Devon arched a brow and she met his eyes in their reflection in the mirror. “I want my guests to feel comfortable,” he said.
“I guess I should be glad you’re such a popular guy,” Lilah said, trying to smile. It was only hard because she was so tired. “Did any of your guests leave a nightie, by chance?”
Devon’s mouth quirked. “I might be able to rustle something up,” he drawled.
“Thanks,” Lilah said, and started working at picking apart the plastic encasing her toothbrush. After a moment, Devon left her, presumably to rifle through a pile of discarded thongs and teddies left here by his multitude of lady friends to find something Lilah could wear to bed. Maybe she should’ve been more specific about what she looked for in a nightgown.
Lilah went through the motions of her normal evening routine, getting jarred out of it from time to time by the extraordinarily shmancy soap, or facial cleanser, as it said on the box, and by the tiny tub of lotion—crème luxe moisturizer—which felt like pure silk on her skin.
She stared at herself in the mirror. What in the world was she doing here?
A soft knock at the bathroom door startled her. She cracked it open to find Devon with some blue cloth draped over his outstretched hand.
“This should fit you,” he said.
Lilah took it, almost surprised that the material felt like plain cotton rather than the racy satin or lace she’d half expected.
“Thank you,” she said. There was an awkward pause where Devon didn’t leave and Lilah didn’t start changing into the nightie and neither one of them said anything.
The moment had a very odd feel, as if Lilah hadn’t ever woken up from her nap in the car. As if she were caught in a dream.
Which must have been why, when Devon took a step toward her and bent his head to hers, Lilah didn’t push him away but wrapped her hands around his strong shoulders and dragged him closer.
The heat that had been simmering in her belly since—well, practically since the night before—exploded into a fiery maelstrom that swept Lilah up and into Devon’s arms.
His chest was solid and hard against hers, a wall of shifting muscle that made her want to rub herself against him like a cat. Devon’s hands speared into her hair, fingers molding to her head and holding