He stood there like a giant, his strong arms crossed, his brow furrowed, and his face filled with worry.
"Well?" He asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.
Pamela stood and dusted her skirt. "I.. uh... What are you doing here?"
"I thought you wanted me to come."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes you did, and I'm glad I'm here to save you once again." He smirked. "You could have died from depression."
"It's not funny." She replied, anger burning through her.
"Why did I say wrong?"
"Everything! You don't joke with people's feelings like that especially if they're going through a difficult phase."
He looked at her without replying and Pamela waited for him to in tense silence, but his response filled her with more anger and pain.
"Noted."
She shut her eyes and took in deep breaths but it did nothing to dispel the feeling of pain and dismay that was filling her. Without intending to, tears filled her eyes and she started to cry. She dug her teeth into her lower lip and quietly sobbed.
Devlin groaned. "Okay, okay, come here."
She dodged his outstretched arms. "Don't touch me." Her voice sounded tight due to her tears.
He reached out again and said softly. "Come here."
Who could refuse him with that gentle voice of his that was coaxing and luring her in? She let him take her and his embrace was surprisingly warm and gentle. Pamela was expecting something bone-crushing, what, with his bulky figure? He smelled of earth and horses and gunpowder; a huge contrast to Marcel's rosy smell.
Why was she even comparing?
He gently tapped on her back to soothe her and that did it. She let open the floodgates and wept. Ear-crashing sobs. All the pent-up frustrations from the moment her mother had announced her father's passing, and her experience with Devlin all poured out from her eyes. She had to let it out, bit by bit, and Devlin helped her through it. His patient taps and the consequent back rubbing helped a lot.
It took minutes before she could calm down.
After she had calmed, she raised her head and saw she had wet Devin's suit.
She tried to dab at it. "I'm - I'm sorry I -"
"It's okay. Are you feeling any better?"
As if just realizing it was Devlin she was talking to - and was still holding her waist in a very dangerous and sensual manner, she moved away from the circle of his masculine embrace.
"Yes, thank you."
There was an awkward pause. Then Devlin cleared his throat.
"Come with me."
"No!" She said sharply then grimaced. "Er... I - I mean, I can't. I have to go back to the house."
"Don't."
Wait, was he deaf or what? I can't go. Simple. Pamela wished it were that simple to say the words.
"Come, Pammy," he said.
"That's new." She said, looking him square in the eyes.
"I don't have time for this." He said impatiently.
"Then go. You're so rude." Pamela said crossly, hoping and praying to the high heavens that he didn't take her word for it. She didn't want him to go, despite the insanity of it.
"Please."
She looked up at him and almost laughed at the tight look on his face. He must be dying inside to have said the six magic letters, which inadvertently worked on her.
"Hell must be freezing over." She teased and placed her hands into his outstretched hand, which swallowed hers. Her hand looked so small in his huge, rough hand. He led her to a short distance where his limo was parked. Guards stood at each door.
They greeted her and opened the door for them. She got in and sat while Devlin sat facing her.
"Is there something about you and that blonde lad I don't know about?"
Pamela was taken aback. She blinked. "What?"
"That red-necked, modern-day Voldemort. What is between you two?"
She almost laughed but stopped herself just in time. "Why are you suddenly interested?"
"I just need an answer."
Pamela didn't know where the possessiveness came from and so it baffled her. "Why?" Then a theory occurred to her and she lowered her voice down a teasing notch. "You're not possibly jealous, are you?"
He scoffed. "Do I look like a jobless love-struck sore-ass loser to you?"
Pamela groaned. "Devlin stop, you're driving me insane."
"Thank you very much but I'll rather not take all the credit." He stood to sit beside her. Pamela automatically shrank away from him.
"I repeat, is there anything between you two?"
"It's none of your business."
He raised a brow. "No?" He moved closer.
"No," Pamela said and gulped very loud when he started to bring his face closer and closer to hers. "He's my ex-boyfriend." She blurted and turned her face away from his. She didn't need any trouble. She was already troubled as it was, and kissing him was going to be trouble for her peace of mind.
He sat back and adjusted his suit. "So old fire's getting reignited?"
"No, of course not. We're just friends, nothing more." Why was she even explaining to him? She owed him no explanation. At all.
"I hope so." He caught drew closer again and tucked her hair that was falling loose behind her ears. "Cause I'm ready to kill..."
"What? Are you out of your mind?"
"You noticed?" He started to stroke her cheeks. "Come closer." He whispered, and when Pamela didn't budge, he moved closer, touching her face, then her lips, just as he'd done on that rainy night.
Their faces were so close right now and up close, his face was so beautiful, with its rough edges, that Pamela couldn't bare to breathe. Maybe because she was scared of ruining the moment, whatever it was, she stayed still, looking into his eyes that held twin looks of desire, and getting drowned in their mesmerizing depths. She suddenly wished she had worn make-up, face powder at least, or some lip gloss or eyeliner or something. But she had been pig-headed and decided to come bare. What if he saw the freckles on her face and bailed on her?
"You're so damned beautiful." He whispered, stroking her lips with his thumb.
Did she just hear what she thought she heard? Beautiful? It was unnerving, just the very thought of him thinking that she looked beautiful.
He used his arms to hold her close for a moment and then planted a kiss on her forehead. He rubbed his nose on her face, holding both her hands and bringing her close. He held her waist and drew her closer like she was sitting on his legs. Then he kissed her.
At first, it was slow, gentle, like he was begging, probing the sweet darkness of her mouth. Pamela moaned against him and placed her hands on his chest while he drew her close yet again.
Soon, the tension built, and the kiss intensified. It became fast and aggressive, Devlin bit, ate her mouth, demanding, crushing her with energy, bruising her raw with his stubble. He let go of her waist and held her hair in a fist, using his tongue to tease and probe her skillfully that one would think he studied the art of locking lips. The movement of his lips against hers was all-consuming, ravenous yet sweet, teasing her and driving her body to new heights of pleasure and desire.
Pulling back for air, Pamela rested her head on this chest, panting heavily, listening to the sound of his accelerated heartbeat beating frantically against her ears. She loved the way they were, holding onto each other and basking in the aftermath of their display of want and desire for each other.
"I want you, Pamela."
Pamela froze. That was the second time he was saying her name in full, and the subject matter was...scary. She reluctantly raised her head from his chest and sat back. The decoration on the window suddenly looked very interesting to her.
He took her hand. "I promise I won't hurt you."
'She looked into his eyes and groaned. Who are you and what have you done with Devlin the devil? Why was he being so nice all of a sudden?
She shut her eyes for a brief moment and when she opened them to look into his eyes, the dying look in his eyes broke her heart. "I - I need to go. My mom would be worried."
He gave her a long hard look. "I can handle Dorothea."
"I know it's just -"
"Are you avoiding my question?"
"No, it's just -" She shook her head. She thought of Marcel who promised to be back for her if she took more than thirty minutes. "I - I can't, Devlin, I'm so sorry."
"You can't or you won't?" He looked very pained like his ego had been bruised.
She didn't know the answer to that question. Did she? "I'm sorry."
"Stop saying you're sorry dammit." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.
"I don't know what to say."
He looked into her eyes, and Pamela could see the hurt in them. She looked away, unable to stomach the fact that she was causing him pain. It was for the best...or was it? Yes, it was! What would the world say if she jumped into bed with a very sexy and virile male who had kidnapped her? Was this how Stockholm syndrome worked? If it was then it was terrible and wanted no part of it.
Besides, she didn't think her heart could handle any more heartbreaks. Also, she wasn't a fan of one-night-stands or friends-with-benefits a thing. Pamela told herself that she had valid reasons and that turning him down was the best decision.
"Brad!" He called all of a sudden, the caring, sweet Devlin gone, replaced with the old and unfeeling mafia.
The door opened and one guard peeked in. "Boss?"
"Take her home."
"Yes, boss." He looked at Pamela. "Ma'am?"
Pamela looked at Devlin. So he was discarding her now? Sure she wanted to go home but she hadn't expected it to hurt this way. She moved towards the door and Brad helped her down. She turned back to look at Devlin.
"Goodbye, Dev -."
He slammed the door in her face.
~
Author's Note:
Thank you so, so, much for reading. Please vote, comment your thoughts, add to your library and reading lists, and share with others. Thank you!