When I came out, Devon was sitting on the edge of the other bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, and his gaze immediately went to my chest. Then he set the phone aside. “You clean up better than most of the fighters I see.”
“Thanks.” I ran a hand through my damp hair. “So, do you always go scouting at places like that?”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Sometimes.”
“Seems like a good way to find guys who don’t know what they’re doing.”
“It’s also a good way to find guys who haven’t been shaped yet,” he countered.
“Is that what you want? To shape me?”
He chuckled. “I think I’ve made that obvious.”
“And you do this a lot?” I gestured around the room.
“Do what exactly?”
“Pick up random guys after fights, then offer them food and a place to stay.”
He grinned. “Not usually.”
“Then what’s different about me?”
He stood, closing the space between us by a step. “I’m not sure.”
My eyes tracked his movement. He was close enough now that I could feel the shift in the air between us. His hand lifted, pausing briefly near my jaw, before his thumb brushed the edge of the cut near my eyebrow.
“You’re going to have a scar if you don’t take care of this.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got others,” I said, my voice husky.
His fingers hovered a moment longer before lowering, like he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed a line or was waiting to see if I would.
I took a step back. “Devon …”
He didn’t try to close the distance between us, but he didn’t back away either. “What?”
I dragged a hand through my wet hair, my pulse picking up. “I don’t—” It wasn’t as though I was bothered by him making a move. I just didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. “I don’t do anything complicated.”
For a year after Rowan left for the Air Force, I didn’t touch anyone else. I’d tried a couple of times. Went out with a few guys, but it never got past a kiss. The second it started feeling like it could turn into something real, I shut it down.
It wasn’t their fault. It was all on me. I didn’t trust people anymore, or maybe I didn’t trust myself not to end up right back in that same place where my whole life revolved around someone, only to get left behind in the end. Eventually, I figured out how to remove that concern. If I focused on the physical andkept things simple with no expectations, I could get off, then move on.
It worked most of the time.
He smiled. “Does this look complicated to you?”
Maybe I was the one complicating things.
He was good-looking, shared an interest in fighting, and if I wanted to walk away after tomorrow, I could. Besides, fights left me too wound up to just go home and sleep, and sex was a great way to take the edge off.
So instead of ignoring the spark between us, I twisted my hand in the front of his shirt and pulled him close. His breath hitched slightly. Then his mouth was on mine.
I hadn’t been alonein my bed when I’d fallen asleep, but I was now. I pushed up on my elbows and saw Devon standing near the small table by the window, one hand wrapped around a cup of coffee, the other braced against the wall as he looked out at the parking lot.
“Morning,” he said, glancing my way.
“Morning,” I returned. “What time is it?”
