I let my eyes drop and run over the hard planes of his athletic body. His skin is glistening with water drops and it enhances the hard cut of his stomach muscles at his hip and the solid curve of his well-developed thighs. He’s hard, his thick, long cock pointing skyward, but he isn’t acting like he knows it. His free hand cups my cheek. I finally raise my eyes to his. We stare at each other. He leans forward and presses his thick, soft lips to my forehead.
He wraps his arms around me and we hold each other, the water bouncing off us. Thankfully, the spray on my face masks my tears as he finally pulls back and drops the pouf. Devin pulls back the curtain and steps out of the shower, carefully guiding me out after him.
Devin stands in the middle of the bathroom, soaking wet and gloriously naked. He turns off the water and wraps me in a towel. He wraps one around his own waist and then opens the bathroom door and holds my hand as we walk to the office and he lays me down on the futon, pulling the comforter up over my still damp body.
“I’m going to get you some water and an Advil,” he says softly near my ear.
He starts to stand up and I reach for him. “Devin…stay with me.”
I wrap a hand around the back of his head, my fingers slipping through his damp golden hair. My lips graze his and I feel him respond, pushing his lips into mine for just a second before he pulls away. I want to scream in protest.
“I could stay,” he replies with a small sad smile. “I want to so fucking badly. But…you’ll blow it off in the morning as a drunken mistake. And I’m not your mistake, Callie. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. If you can’t admit that, then it’s over and it’s staying over.”
He tugs his hand out of my grip and turns and leaves the room.
That’s the last thing I remember.
Chapter 56
Callie
I’m not sleeping. I’m just lying there in the fetal position in my pink sweats and my oatmeal-colored tank top with my head buried in the pillow. I did get up and shower earlier. Even washed my hair and styled it a little. It’s the first time that has happened since Devin left my drunken ass forty-eight hours ago, so today is a victory in my opinion.
There’s a knock at my door and Rose wanders in without waiting for a response from me. I stare at her through one open eye and she stares back with her dark eyes narrowed and her face full of judgment.
Still, I can’t help but notice Rose looks fucking gorgeous. Her thick, straight, almost-black hair is shimmering down her back. She’s wearing a crimson empire-waist minidress with a satiny white ribbon around her torso just under her breasts. Her long, lean legs still look miraculously tanned and her tiny size six feet are wrapped in a pair of amazing black patent leather stilettos, making her look taller and giving her calves a pretty curve. Her makeup is darker than normal, with smoky gray eyeliner and shimmery translucent shadow, and her lips are glossy and pink.
“You look like a fucking supermodel,” I tell her in a croaky voice, probably because it’s the first thing I have said to anyone all day—and it’s after five in the evening.
“And you look like a reject fromCelebrity Rehab,” she counters with a wry smile. “You know we’re having company in a couple of hours, right?”
“I knowyouand the French Disaster are,” I confirm and sit up. “The only company I’m keeping is Ryan Seacrest on my TV.”
Rose gives me a long, stern stare and then sighs dramatically. “Be right back.”
I watch her disappear out my open door again and come back a few minutes later holding her laptop. “Move over,” she demands and I slide over on the bed so she can sit beside me.
She plops her laptop half down on my leg and half on hers, and I look at the screen and see Jessie’s face and the background of her bedroom in Seattle. Fucking Skype. I groan loudly.
“I love you, too, little sister,” Jessie sarcastically says in response.
“I hate technology,” I complain and cross my arms like an angry child. “I swear it was only invented so you two could tag team me.”
“And porn,” I hear in the background. “It was invented for porn.”
“Is that Big Bir—I mean Jordan?” I say, not wanting to start a tirade because of the nickname. I always said it in jest but he hates me now and that means there are no more friendly barbs.
Jessie’s pretty auburn head nods confirmation. I hear a door open and close.
“He’s getting ready. We’re going out with Chooch and Ainsley for New Year’s,” Jessie explains.
“I thought you hated Ainsley.”
Jessie shakes her head and her perfectly tousled auburn hair cascades over her shoulders. “She hated me. But she’s slowly gotten over it. She’s even almost nice now. Besides, I love her boyfriend, Chooch.”
“So…you and Jordy are okay?”
I see her eyes darken and she shrugs. “As long as your name doesn’t come up. But if it does, well, one of us usually ends up slamming a door or sleeping on the couch.”
