I rub my palm over my face, forehead to chin. It's for the best, I decide. So fucking complicated.
I get up and head to my room. A figure stands at the top landing, watching me climb the stairs. My uncle takes me in from head to toe, my hair disheveled, my shirt unbuttoned, and my feet bare.
“Devon,” he says when I reach him, and puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. It pisses me off. I don't know why. It's . . . so fucking manipulative.
I continue climbing the stairs to the third floor.
LEIGHTON
A soft sigh escaping my lips, I roll onto my stomach. The sheets still smell like him, hours after he's been gone. I’ve barely moved from this bed, except to have a shower and dress in an oversized T-shirt.
I keep replaying Devon's words over and over in my head. I had no idea. I’ve had a crush on Devon for as long as I can remember. I don't even recall the first time I saw him, he was just always there. I'd see him around now and again, and he was the most handsome man I'd ever laid eyes on. And, I'll admit it; I fell for the enigma.
Devon had a presence about him. He exuded power, confidence and capability. But sometimes, when he thought no one was watching, I caught the brokenness in his eyes. I wanted to wipe away that look, to fix everything that was wrong.
He made me feel things no one else could. I've had boyfriends, but none of them could compare. Every time his eyes found me I felt like I was on fire.
So, when I saw him that night standing across the street, his intent gaze on me, I knew it was my chance, and I took it. I wanted him badly, I always have. I didn't expect him to follow me; he never had before.
One taste had me wanting more. The things that man could do to me . . . I was ruined for every other guy. Our secret continued, and we would have sex any chance we could, in any place we could without getting caught. The whole time I was with Devon I didn’t even look at another man. I just wasn’t interested. What I had with him wasn’t ideal, but I took what I could, and waited for him to give me more. I was that desperate for him.
I was sure he felt the same. And when he stopped showing up, I was confused.
Two weeks later, I was devastated because I realized that this . . . thing we had? He didn't want it anymore. And I didn't even expect I'd miss his silence.
After a month I was just pissed.
I knew we didn’t have the kind of relationship where I could expect an explanation, but I didn’t give a shit. I deserved an explanation; I needed one. After a while, I blamed myself. Essentially, I propositioned him. I was available to him anytime he wanted me. Anytime he came to me, I gave him whatever he wanted. My body, and, unknown to him, my heart.
I love Devon. I’ve always loved him, and I probably always will, for as little time as I have left to live.
And it doesn’t even matter. My love is inconsequential. It doesn’t change a thing.
In fact, it only makes everything worse.
I run my fingers through my hair, and tug on it. Devon’s leaving after what just happened speaks volumes. We might not be able to stay away from each other, but at the end of the day, it’s business as usual. The most fucked up thing about this whole mess? I keep staring at the door, willing him to come back to me, to hold me in his arms. He thinks I’m his weakness? He is more than my weakness.
And he holds my life in his hands, and he's going to just take it. I won't be a fool again to think this changes anything.
I wipe away the tear streaking my cheek, my eyes still fixated on the door. And then he's standing in front of me, an undecipherable look on his face. Wordlessly, Devon slips back into bed with me. He slides his arm under my neck, and pulls me into his body, spooning me from behind.
It hurts so much, melting into his embrace like everything is normal. But it's not real. And I still turn around and nuzzle his cheek, and then I let his warmth lull me to sleep.
eleven
LEIGHTON
“What a way to wake up,” I say, trying to catch my breath. I glance down at Devon who lifts his head up from between my legs. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a cocky grin curving his lips. He kisses his way up my body, ending at my lips, and then he slumps into the bed next to me. I lie there lazily, enjoying the sated satisfied feeling you get after having an intense orgasm.
“What’s for breakfast?” I ask as I roll over to face him, propping myself on my elbow, my other hand trailing down his naked chest.
“I just had mine,” he says, chuckling.
I bite my lip, feeling a blush spread all over my face. His eyes widen in disbelief.
“Are you getting shy on me?” he asks. “Seriously? Now?”
I cover my head with the sheet, and then hear another chuckle. I can't help it; something about this whole thing feels . . . real. It was always real to me, but I feel like he’s finally with me.
“Fucking unbelievable,” he mutters, tugging at the sheet. The second I let him pull it down, he places a quick kiss on my lips. “You.” Another kiss. “Are.” And another. “Fucking.” This one, a little longer. “Unbelievable,” he finishes.
I smile against his lips when my stomach growls loudly.
“Ten minutes, okay?” he says, giving me another quick peck. I nod and then he gets up, and straightens his clothes, smiling to himself. I love seeing him like this. He almost seems . . . content.
He unlocks the door and goes out, locking it behind him.
My smile drops.
I slump back into the pillow and close my eyes. It's almost too easy to forget where I am and why I'm here.
“Leighton.” I open my eyes just in time to see his smirk. I must have dozed off again. “I'll take that as a compliment,” he says, grinning at me.
I ignore him and eye the plastic container in his hand, and some plastic cutlery in the other. I almost want to roll my eyes, but I refrain. I can't believe he still thinks I'll stab him with a fucking fork. I slide to the edge of the bed, get up and kiss him gently on the lips. Taking the food from his hands, I walk over to the table and take off the lid. Fresh fruit salad. Not bad. I pull out the pathetic spork and dig in, if that's even the right term for eating with a spork. In the end I give up and set it aside, using my hands to eat instead, licking the sweet juice off my fingers.
Devon clears his throat, shifting on the bed, his eyes dancing between my mouth and my wet fingers.
Picking up the salad, I walk over and sit down on the bed next to him, silently offering him a strawberry. He opens his mouth and takes the fruit, licking my fingers, too. My breath hitches, and I pick up a grape and feed him once more. This time he sucks my finger into his mouth, and a moan escapes my lips.
“Eat,” he says huskily, turning his head slightly when I offer him the next piece. He stares as I bite into a piece of watermelon.
“You sticking around all day?” I ask him. I really wish he would.
His eyes still on my mouth, he replies, “I have some business to take care of. Hayley will be here with your lunch, then I’ll be back in the evening.”
I still. “Hayley is still coming here?” I gape at him, dumbfounded.
Devon purses his lips. “Leighton—”
“After what you told me? After what she told me? You ignored me. While I was waiting for you, pining away for you, you were out there fucking her, and you want me to sit in this room with her?” I put down the fruit salad, having lost my appetite.
“She’s the only one around here I can trust with you,” he says tightly, breaking eye contact.
“Why don't you just fucking do it, Devon? Kill me. Get it over with. I’m sure it would hurt less than having her thrown in my face all day long,” I say dramatically, moving to leave. He grabs onto my upper arm, holding me in place.