Page 81 of Death's Daughter
I trip over the edge of an uneven sidewalk square, gaping at him. “Who is the psychology major here?”
“I’ve been studying up.” He grins, and it tugs at me. Not in the magical way, but in the “cute guy is paying attention” way.
He took the time to research something important to me.
A pleasant warmth spreads through my chest. Okay, no, this is not a complication I need right now. But it’s… nice. To have a normal moment in the middle of this shit-tastrophe.
Actually, to be honest, it’sbetterthan normal. Most guys—human and otherwise—are far more interested in explaining their majors, plans, or sports in excruciating detail than in evenhearingabout mine. And Devon learning more,voluntarily and on his own, without me present to witness the effort? Just… wow. Way better than normal.
“And when did you have time to acquire this academic prowess?” I tease.
He stops abruptly, and it takes me a second to realize he’s no longer with me.
I turn to face him, confused. “What’s wrong?”
“I always make time for what’s important to me,” he says with a seriousness that makes my pulse jump again.
You, you are important to me.That’s the implication, and I’m stunned by how much I want it to be true. The sudden swell of yearning takes me aback.
But Devon’s gaze holds mine, without hesitation or fear, and it sends a bolt of heat through me. He closes the small distance between us, the lapels of his open coat brushing against my chest.
We already decided this was a bad idea, didn’t we? With everything going on. With my own unresolved feelings with Carter. Though now, after Carter walked out on my confession, I guess that’s pretty much resolved on his end, if not exactly on mine.
So, bad idea or not—definitely bad, Jo—I let the moment unfurl, selfishly wanting to be wanted, after the sting of rejection.
Devon’s focus drops to my mouth, and I bite my lip reflexively.
He traces my cheekbone with his thumb, as if he’s touching something infinitely precious, unquestionably fragile. Then he curls his fingers beneath my jaw, tipping it up.
My breath catches audibly, and the corners of his mouth turnup in a smile, one I’ve never seen from him before. Not smirky or smug. Soft, uncertain, if anything.
He leans in, and my eyes close reflexively. His lips brush over mine, once, twice, and it’s almost a playful gesture. But when his tongue dips in to taste my mouth, I can’t stop a moan from escaping.
These light, gentle kisses radiate through my whole body, sparking a conflagration that I can’t control. A shudder runs through me.
More.I clutch at the front of his jacket and try to pull him closer, the soft fabric biting into my skin with the fierceness of my grip.
But with a final nuzzle against my cheek, Devon steps back.
I stumble forward after him, blinking hazily.Wait. What is happening?
“We should keep going,” he says.
Yes, yes, we should.I reach out for him.
With a glint of amusement in his eyes and something that looks like melancholy, Devon shakes his head and then jerks his chin toward the cemetery.
Fuck. Right. Work to do.
Aaannd keep in mind, he’s likely still in love with his poor dead girlfriend.
I grimace.Nice, Jo.
Devon starts walking again, and I follow after a beat, hurrying to catch up.
“Um,” I begin.Good, strong start, Jo.“Should we, uh, talk about… that?” Why am I out of breath? Gasping for air. It’s like I’m talking to my first crush again, Braedon Nichols, in sixth grade.
Devon glances sideways at me, through his lashes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
