Page 164 of Handsome Devil
Conveniently or not, my family liked him. In my mom’s eyes, Dane Davenport was an absolute dream catch. He’d been a perfect gentleman at lunch with my parents three days ago, and again last night when we had dinner with them and my brothers.
My parents even tried to politely overlook the sex tape scandal, choosing to believe that Dane’s privacy had been violated and nothing more. Like he was some poor victim.
I just let them live with their delusions.
I mean, I didn’t watch the video. But Chaz gave me the basics, like I asked him to.
Two women. Dane. Lots of fucking.
Maybe he didn’t leak the sex tape, according to him, but he was not some innocent victim. No one was forcing him to screw those two women.
If my parents wanted to believe I’d been swept off my feet by Prince Charming, though, so be it. As it turned out, Dane could be a rather convincing prince, when he wanted to be.
I really hadn’t seen much of that side of him before. Polite Dane. Seemingly-selfless Dane. Non-arrogant Dane. Whether it was an act or not, it was convincing.
Maybe he really was capable of being a decent human?
Could that be possible?
Might his feelings have actually been hurt or something when he thought Shane was flirting with me, and maybe I was amenable to it?
I wasn’t sure.
But I doubted it.
I still wasn’t sure if he’d done a single nice thing in my direction without an ulterior motive. He didn’t seem capable of that.
MaybeIwasn’t capable of that.
And our similarities in this were not lost on me.
Just another reason I was anxious for him to go.
Space. I needed space.
But my fake husband was all up in it, all day long.
Prime example: every single time I sat down at my desk in my new office, I was reminded of the sexual act that happened right here.
Was that why he instigated it?
So that I’d still be thinking about it, processing it, days later? Because I definitely was.
There was no excuse to do what we did in here the other day except that we wanted to.
It wasn’t our wedding night. We weren’t in bed together. It wasn’t dark. I hadn’t been drinking.
And it was… intense.
I hadn’t had a guy fuck me with his fingers instead of his dick since I was like nineteen and a virgin. I definitely wasn’t getting action of any kind, fingers or otherwise, in high school. And by the time I started having sex, the making out and fingering phase of my sex life was pretty brief. I was a grown woman by then and dove into the deep-dicking end of the pool pretty fast.
But I still hadn’t let Dane go there.
He hadn’t really tried. It was like I’d drawn my line and he was staying on his side of it, and from there, launching his offensive any way he could. Any way I’d let him.
I wondered if he was used to taking it slow with women. Playing by their rules. Fingering someone and eating her out instead of fucking her because that was all she would let him do.
Somehow I doubted it.
