Page 15 of The Villain

Apparently, he still didn’t understand, so I allowed him to take the T-shirt out of his mouth. He glanced around and then raised his eyebrows at me. “You want me to… wash?”

“Yeah. Wash. You reek like sweat and me.”

He sucked in a harsh breath, and his stomach contracted as I tried not to stare at his muscles. Letting him get naked had clearly been a mistake. In the shed, it was easy to reduce him to a mouth. But out here…

Devlin snatched the bar of soap from my hand, then turned to wade into the water. Letting him go was my second mistake, because now I could see what was underneath the ill-fitting jeans. His ass was just as muscled as the rest of him, with dimples dotting the top of his rounded cheeks. The back of his right thigh was deeply scarred, a thick pink slash on his pale skin.

“What’s that?” I pointed at his thigh.

He glanced at me over his shoulder, then followed my gaze downward. “Stab wound.”

“Looks fresh.”

“Year ago.”

A year ago. One year since the devil had fallen from his throne.

The details of his downfall were still muddy. Most people thought the Detroit Devil had been killed, even though we’d obviously found him alive. The rumor was that he’d been taken down by his long-time rival, Soto. And it seemed he had left his mark. I had always wondered why Soto didn’t just kill him.

“They wanted it to hurt,” I said.

His eyes met mine. “It did. And I deserved it.”

His tone was so matter of fact. It didn’t garner any sympathy, at least not from me.

I watched Devlin wade out to the middle of the creek. The water reached about waist height on me, but on Devlin it camenearly up to his nipples. He ducked his head underwater, and for a moment, I wondered if he’d just let himself float downstream. But he resurfaced in a spray of water, pushing his hair back from his face. In the dim light, his wet locks gleamed rich mahogany.

He worked the soap through his hair and over his face, then rinsed and waded into shallower water to wash the rest of his body. I could have turned away, but I didn’t. And I told myself it was to make sure he didn’t run.

But Devlin Walsh, naked and wet, was an undeniably erotic sight. Rivulets of soap and water ran down his chest and back, between his ass cheeks, and along his thighs. Suds dripped from his cock. He blew out a spray of water and met my gaze from under clumped lashes.

“Wanna join me?” he asked with a grin that made my dick twitch.

“Fuck off, devil,” I shot back.

Devlin taunted and mocked and pushed buttons. He was charismatic like a dictator, and he cycled through masks faster than I went through a pack of cigarettes. But I didn’t know him, not really, and I couldn’t afford to let my guard down.

I couldn’t tell what he thought of me, and I hated that I cared. Compared to the empire Devlin once ran, the O'Shea’s were a bunch of nobodies. Which was probably why he’d gotten rid of my father—minimal blowback. But I knew my worth, and the worth of my crew. I was loyal. I was smart. I fought hard to keep my crew safe, and we all protected each other.

Devlin Walsh was the nobody now.

I didn’t need his respect. But as I stood there, staring at the devil, I wondered if I’d earned it anyway.

“Get out,” I barked. I was over this shit. I needed a cigarette. I needed food.

I needed to get thefuckout of this man’s presence.

Devlin suddenly tossed the bar of soap onto the bank. He lowered into a slight crouch, muscles tensing, emerald eyes flashing in the fading light. I should have seen this coming. I was about to be fucked with—and not in a way I would enjoy.

“Nah,” he shot back, tongue wetting the corner of his lip. “I want to play a game.”

Then he let out a loud whoop, and dove underwater.

SIX

Cian

“Motherfucker!”