Shadow of a Doubt (Tangled Ivy Book 2) (32 page)

Devon’s lips twisted. “How can I say no to that?”

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

I
stood on the beach, staring out over the water. The waves were rolling in and crashing against the sand. The early morning clouds threatened rain, but I knew it wouldn’t rain for long. It had rained a bit each of the four days we’d been in Kapalua. Located on the northwestern shore of Maui, it was wet there, but I didn’t complain. The result was a lush, tropical setting where our hotel was nestled, perched on top of a steep hill that led to the beach where I now stood.

Since Devon’s part of the mission had been accomplished—the threat the phones had possessed now nullified—nothing prevented him from disappearing off the grid for a while, though I hadn’t asked how long that would be. Levin remained, but was no longer a threat. For now.

The wind whipped my hair, freeing long strands from the braid I’d pulled it into. Devon slid his arms around my waist and pulled me back to rest against him.

“Tell me about your home,” I said to him. “Your real one. You do have a home, don’t you?”

There was a slight hesitation. “I do,” he said. “Though I’m hardly there. It’s in London. A three-bedroom flat with the usual amenities.”

“Do you have friends?”

A longer hesitation this time. “No, not really. Not in the sense you mean. I have people I know—people in the business and from varying walks of life—who I consider acquaintances. I have perhaps two friends. People I trust implicitly, who would help me even if it meant putting themselves in danger.”

Yes, I guess
friends
meant something very different in Devon’s vocabulary than in mine.

“Do you ever get . . . lonely?”

“It’s a lonely profession,” he replied.

I took that as the closest he’d come to saying that yes, he did get lonely.

“How many times have you almost died?”

Devon sighed, his hold tightening on me. “Too many times for me to want to dwell on it.”

“But you’ve saved people’s lives, too,” I said. “Right?”

“I like to think so.”

“What about your family?” I asked. “Do you ever see them?”

“I’ve never met my extended family. I think I have a few cousins on my mother’s side, but I’ve never met them.”

“Why not?”

“They think I’m dead, for one. Informing them otherwise would be quite shocking, I’m afraid.” His jesting tone made the comment sound light, though it was actually a sad thing—his family, the people who might love him, thought he was dead.

“I just thought maybe your family would know the truth,” I said with a shrug.

“No one knows the truth,” Devon said. “Just you.”

Something warm unfurled inside me at that pronouncement. I’d been so vulnerable with Devon in so many ways. He knew all my deepest insecurities and secrets, the dark places in my psyche that I’d allowed no one else to know. It was good to realize he’d let me in, too, even if I hadn’t understood it at the time.

The sun was starting to peek from behind the clouds. It would get up to the mid-eighties today and I was looking forward to another day lying by the pool and looking out over the ocean. I hadn’t had a swimsuit when we’d come here, or any clothes appropriate to the tropical climate. Devon had taken me into the clothing stores at the hotel that stocked solely designer brands.

I’d tried on clothes and he approved or nixed each outfit, including several bikinis. I’d argued that I only needed one bathing suit, but his lips had lifted in a half-smile and he maintained he couldn’t decide which he liked better, so I’d ended up buying five. I’d had to make a hurried appointment at the hotel spa for a wax just so I could wear them.

Today I wore a barely-there black crochet bikini that had Devon staring at me as I arranged myself on the chaise inside the cabana he’d reserved for us. Several days in the sun had bronzed my skin and lightened my hair.

Glancing at him, I winked and blew him a kiss as I slid my sunglasses on. His small smile widened.

Devon had told the hotel we were on our honeymoon, so the entire time we’d been there, they’d added romantic touches to everything we did. From rose petals on the bed at turndown service, to complimentary champagne at dinner. Today was no exception as a uniformed waiter stepped into our cabana, offering us chocolate-covered strawberries.

“You’re spoiling me,” I teased Devon. “Ruining me for regular vacations.”

“And regular men, I hope,” he said.

“You
want
to ruin me for other men?” I asked.

“Haven’t I already?”

Yes, pretty much, but I didn’t want to think about that.

A steady stream of mai tais and Devon taking his time rubbing sunscreen on my back and shoulders as he whispered teasing innuendos in my ear was my idea of a perfect day. The slow burn of sexual tension between us was a feeling I never wanted to end. Delayed gratification made it even sweeter when we finally went back to our room.

Devon was peeling off my suit before the door had even finished closing, his mouth coming down hard on mine. Our skin smelled of sun and coconut, and I knew I’d never smell that scent again and not think of Devon and this week.

We were walking hand in hand along the water’s edge after dinner. The moon was full and bright, making the sand shine in the night. Devon carried my shoes, the dainty ankle straps dangling from his fingers.

“It’s so peaceful here,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Well, we’re not leaving yet,” Devon said, which was true. In fact, he hadn’t determined a day for us to leave and had left our reservation at the hotel open-ended.

“I know, but we can’t hide here forever.”

“Is that what it feels like we’re doing?” he asked.

I paused, turning to face him. “Doesn’t it to you?”

His lips twisted in a faint smile. “A bit. I prefer to think of it as a holiday. I rarely get those.”

“Would you take them even if you could?” I asked. We’d carefully avoided discussion of his work since we’d arrived. Instead, we’d talked of everything and nothing, our conversations easy and light. These had been some of the best days we’d ever spent together.

He shrugged, his smile turning self-deprecating. “Probably not.”

I thought for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Do you ever think about the future? Of what you want or where you’ll be in ten years? Twenty?”

Devon was silent, studying me. “No.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“It’s pointless,” he said. “No one knows the future. Our car could crash on the way to the airport and both of us die. I live in the moment, in the now, which has enough trouble. The future will take care of itself.”

I hoped he was right.

That night I woke to Devon talking in his sleep. I heard my name and reached to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Devon,” I called. He didn’t wake and I had to say it two more times before he sat straight up, his chest heaving and his hands clenched like he’d been fighting.

“Are you all right?” I asked. He glanced at me, his eyes feverishly bright in the moonlight streaming through the window. “You were having a nightmare, I think.”

He didn’t answer.

Throwing back the sheet, he stood and walked to the balcony. We’d left the doors open so we could hear the ocean and feel the breeze. The moon bathed his naked body with silvery light.

I tossed aside the blanket that had covered me and went to stand behind him. I slid my arms around his waist and leaned against him, resting my cheek against his back.

“Will you tell me about your nightmare?” I asked.

I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but finally, he spoke.

“It was the night I found Kira,” he said. “It was late, later than I’d told her I’d be back and I was afraid she’d be worried. Not that she didn’t always worry, but I’d given her my word. I was . . . anxious to see her, needed to see she was okay. Marrying her had been against my better judgment, but I was young and stupid. Dangerously so.

“I’d reached our door and saw it wasn’t locked. I’d told her time and again to make sure she locked the doors. She was artistic, a bit flighty, always looking for the sunshine and silver lining. It made me irritated because I couldn’t count on her to watch out for herself. She’d never taken the danger we were in seriously. Then I felt guilty for being irritated with her. She was who she was.”

He fell silent and I waited, picturing a younger Devon and the young, faceless woman who’d loved him.

“They’d . . . brutalized her,” he choked out, his voice thick. “She was so delicate, fragile, and her blood was everywhere. I sat with her . . . I don’t even know how long . . . before Vega found me. She was kind, comforting, yet unflinching in her assessment of how badly I’d handled the situation. Kira would still be alive if not for me. The moment I’d married her, I’d signed her death warrant.”

Tears slid down my cheeks to wet his back. My arms tightened around him.

He was solid and strong, and it seemed impossible that anyone could control him, yet I knew his past still did, and so did Vega.

“Tonight, I dreamt of that night, but it was you lying in the bed. Not Kira.”

My eyes slid shut at the agony in his voice, and I didn’t know what to say. Several long moments passed before he spoke again.

“We should go,” he said roughly. “Tomorrow, I think.”

My heart sank, but I didn’t argue. I knew his fears were justified—I had only to look at the scars on my stomach for proof.

His hands covered mine, slotting our fingers together. Lifting my left hand, he pressed his lips to my knuckles. I felt the warm brush of his breath against my skin. He turned and my arms lifted to rest on his shoulders. If it was my last night with Devon, then I wanted nothing between us. No lies or insecurities, pretenses or agendas.

His hands rested on my waist, drifting lightly to my hips, then farther down to cup my rear. “When did you become more than a beautiful woman to warm my bed?” he mused.

I didn’t answer, instead transferring my focus to pressing my lips to his chest. My tongue tasted his skin, warm and solid. He didn’t object and he didn’t try to stop me.

“It kills me to think of you with another man,” he said.

I paused, glancing up at him.

“Am I to pine away in celibate spinsterhood for you?” I asked mildly. “No one says you have to do this job until it kills you.”

“Vega would disagree,” he said dryly.

I stiffened at her name. “She seems to think she owns you,” I said.

“In a way, she does.”

The truth of it was a bitter taste in my mouth, but it wasn’t a bond I could break for him. Devon had to want to be free of the Shadow—free of Vega—on his own.

“I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” I said, slipping my hand between us. He was hard and ready for me. “I want you to make love to me.” I dropped to my knees.

I didn’t want to think about the women that had come before me, or those who Devon would have after me. I just wanted to make sure he never forgot Ivy Mason.

His cock was jutting from his body, thick and long. I wrapped my hand around the base, leaning forward to lick the tip. Raising
my eyes, I saw he was watching me. His gaze was molten, and our eyes locked.

Opening wide, I slid him into my mouth, memorizing his unique flavor. If someone had told me a year ago I’d willingly be in this position to perform this act on a man, I’d have thought they were insane. Only with Devon had I found the freedom to be sexual and find pleasure in it. Only with Devon had I found that love wasn’t something that hurt me and stole my self-respect.

His body was beautiful. The scars that marked his skin only added to that dangerous edge that drew me in. His hands tangled in my long hair as I took him deeper in my mouth, his brow creasing in the pleasure and pain of holding back.

I wanted to be his. Marked by him. Owned by him. It would never change. No matter if this was our last night together. I’d be Devon’s for always.

I moved my hands to cup his ass, an amazing part of his anatomy that I’d neglected, and squeezed, encouraging him to slide deeper. He groaned, his palms cupping the sides of my head.