On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [77]
Devon looked from her face down to her doodling fingers and back again. “You’re going somewhere with this. And much as I’d like to believe this suggestion is leading up to spending the whole day together in bed, I have a feeling I’m going to be disappointed.”
Lilah felt blood rush to her face. Shoot, this coy thing was harder to pull off than she’d expected. Giving up on the arm petting, Lilah turned to face Devon head on.
“Not disappointed, I hope, but no, I’m not suggesting we laze around in bed all afternoon. I’m more hoping I can convince you to spend that time with Tucker. Well, with Tucker and me,” she amended when she saw the panic take over his expression. Despite herself, Lilah felt a pang of joy at knowing Devon needed her.
They both needed her, Devon and Tucker, and Ferdinand’s words to Miranda in The Tempest floated across her consciousness; she could relate like never before to the image of her heart flying to the service of another.
“What would we do?”
The poor man sounded positively bewildered. Taking pity, Lilah said, “Any number of things! Like today. I mean, Tuck didn’t spend all day on his art. We also went to the cutest little bookstore in the Village, Three Lives & Company. Have you ever been there? They had a great children’s section that kept Tucker happy while I found a couple books on things to do with kids in the city. Don’t you worry, I’m absolutely brimming over with activities for the three of us!”
Devon was silent for a moment. Lilah wondered if she’d blown the needle on the enthusiast-o-meter and scared him off. She took it as a good sign that he hadn’t rejected the idea outright.
Finally he blew out a breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fine. I’ll give it a shot.”
Lilah felt the grin breaking over her cheeks before he’d even finished agreeing, but Devon held up a hand to forestall her exclamations. “If things get out of hand at the restaurant, I reserve the right to ditch out on the afternoon play date without being sent on a ’round-the-world guilt trip.”
“Pinky swear,” Lilah said, holding up her hand with all the fingers curled into a fist except the littlest one.
Devon groaned. “We can’t spit in our palms and shake on it, like men?” But he was already holding out his pinky finger.
As they hooked fingers, Lilah said, “I’m not sure why exchanging bodily fluids should be considered a more binding form of promise. Also, I’m not a man.”
“There are so many possible responses to that, I don’t even know where to start. Maybe with the last part.” He pulled her closer by her pinky, that tenuous point of contact enough to set Lilah’s lungs on “pant.”
“What? That I’m not a man?” Mercy, she sounded like her student actors at wrap parties after a play’s successful run, when they sucked down helium balloons and laughed themselves sick at each other’s breathy, high-pitched voices.
“Exactly,” Devon purred. “I had, in fact, noticed that very thing about you.”
He no longer seemed even slightly tipsy; his eyes were clear and focused. Desire had darkened them to the color of the Blue Ridge Mountains at dusk, and Lilah thought she’d never seen anything so alluring, not even the mountains themselves.
Even though she knew it was coming, was waiting and hoping and wishing for it, the first touch of his mouth on hers sent a shock through her system. Lilah squeaked, her eyes darting automatically to the rearview mirror.
Paolo was studiously avoiding checking his blind spots, Lilah saw. She sure hoped the Park Avenue traffic continued to be slow and steady.
And in the next instant, she ceased to care, because Devon’s lips parted, nipping and sucking at hers until she gave in and opened her mouth with a moan. He slipped inside, quick and easy, and when his tongue stroked along the sensitive roof of her mouth, Lilah wouldn’t have cared if they were suddenly transported