On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [72]
Devon sat back down with a bump.
She kissed him.
Lilah kissed Grant. On the mouth. On purpose.
He lurched to his feet intending to march over to that table and break up the lovebirds, but somehow he miscalculated the distance between his feet and the floor, and wound up leaning a bit further than he intended.
“Whoa, there!” A slender shoulder pushed up under Devon’s arm, righting him. Glossy dark curls brushed his chin, and he breathed in the smell of lemon and thyme, clean and bracing after the squalor of the bar and the heady perfume of the bourbon.
“Lilah Jane,” he said, her magic stealing over him again. What had he been so mad about a second ago?
“Are you okay?” Without waiting for Devon to formulate a reply, which, granted, was taking longer than it should’ve as his tongue kept wanting to curl into her ear instead of make words, Lilah appealed to Christian. “Is he okay? Oh, my stars and stripes, what did you give him to drink?”
“Bourbon,” Devon said, smiling at the memory. “Hey, you want one?”
“No!”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, and they were still pressed so tightly against one another, his body moved against hers in interesting ways.
“Hey,” he remembered. “Weren’t we going to talk?”
Lilah grinned, her dimple winking out at him. “I can’t believe I was worried about how you’d deal with the rough service tonight,” she said, gesturing at the empty shot glasses ranged on the bar. “Four shots of bourbon! What could be a healthier coping mechanism?”
“It was five,” Christian put in.
Devon gave him the evil eye. “Your forgiveness is revoked,” Devon told him. “I don’t care if you’re my only ally, there are some lines that must never be crossed.”
“I shouldn’t have ratted you out,” Christian agreed. “But I thought the paramedics might ask when Lilah has to call them later to pump your stomach.”
Lilah gasped audibly, her pretty face going chalk white.
“Oh, my word, please tell me that’s a joke.”
“It is! Sorry, Lilah, I’m just ragging on him, Dev’s fine,” Christian soothed. “I shouldn’t tease like that, but he so rarely shows his liquor, I couldn’t resist.”
“Too little, too late,” Devon said darkly. “I break with thee, I break with thee, I break with thee.”
Lilah and Christian exchanged a look they obviously thought Devon was too drunk to notice.
“All righty, then,” Lilah said. “Let’s get you home, boss man.”
A thrill coursed through Devon when Lilah said “home” in that warm voice all rich with amusement.
It was comforting and intimate and somehow sexy as hell.
The goosebumps it raised, plus the feel of her curvy little body pressed against his side, brought the world into sharp focus.
He stared down into her sparkling mossy eyes and after three deep inhalations of the honeyed herbal scent of her, tonight’s kitchen debacle faded into the background of Devon’s mind.
Lilah shifted, pulling his arm more firmly across her shoulders, which also happened to push her soft, round breasts more firmly into his chest. Devon felt all the blood in his body drain south so fast it made his head spin. He hardened in a dizzying rush.
So. Turned out he wasn’t that drunk after all.
“Some air would be good,” Devon agreed, aware that his voice had gone raspy and deep. “Let’s go home.”
Frankie jiggled the ancient key in the rusted lock, long fingers twiddling the metal back and forth. He didn’t bother swearing at the delay, even though he was aching to be upstairs in his Garret, alone with Jess for the first time in what felt like a donkey’s age.
Sitting in Chapel, faffing about and making nice with Wonderful Wes was enough to make Frankie’s hair stand on end. Even more than usual. Definitely the sort of evening that made Frankie long for the halcyon days of his misspent youth, when he’d spent every night off his tits and carefree as a lark.
Bloody rehab. Bloody recovery.
Jess, burdened down with Frankie’s bass case, leaned wearily into him and said, “Need help?”
“I can do it,” Frankie ground out. One last desperate jiggle and the tumblers