“Watch us, baby.” Backing up, he lines himself up with my center and puts the crown in, then stops and slants his mouth over mine and kisses me. I dip my head to see through the space between us. His abdominal muscles shudder as he moves his hips back and forth slowly. My body has a primitive reaction, clenching around him. Trembling, I look up at him, seeing the glazed look on his face. He sets up a steady pace, rhythm sure and careful, never pushing hard. Sweat mists his skin, down his throat, through the trail of hair on his chest. In the distance, the sun is setting, the sky turning a vivid orange pink through the trees.

“More . . . ,” I whisper.

“Not yet, beautiful.”

His thumb caresses my clit, rotating in sync with his shallow thrusts. He looks at me, and our eyes cling. His green depths shimmer, and I read the nervousness in that gaze, underneath the desire, the hope that he’s making this everything I’ve ever wanted. Oh, Devon. You beautiful man.

“Baby . . .”

The endearment sets me off. Tension builds and explodes. I can’t breathe as lights burst, fireworks releasing in a kaleidoscope of color. I soar over the edge of bliss, shaken and torn, writhing as I cry out. He captures my words with his lips, his hips thrusting all the way home. A bite of pain hits as his chest rumbles with soft, comforting words. Not able to hold the position I’m in, I fall back on the car, my arms weights. He grasps my hips and adjusts, swiveling deeper as he pants.

“Giselle, fuck, so tight. Are you okay?”

“Yes, please, Dev, more.”

His jacket works its way to the edge of the car and falls to the ground as he thrusts, the cool metal of the car under me as he owns me, his hands lacing with mine as he leans down and kisses me.

My body arches up to his, my legs around his hips, my pelvis dragging out every long, perfect stroke. Kicking up his tempo as he mumbles my name, he hitches my leg to his shoulder, grabs my hips, and finds a new angle. He shouts into the darkening night and releases inside me, the spill of him hot and sticky.

He leans his elbows on either side of my face and stares at me. My hands rub his back, tracing the line of taut muscles, the ridge of his spine. “Devon . . .” I don’t know what I’m going to say. Thank you for being you. Kind. Possessive. Unsure. Even the part of him that’s been holding back from me, I want to cherish. He’s a little broken from the past, but if he wasn’t, then we might never have happened. Fate. I swallow down those words. Too soon, too fast.

“Yeah?” His hands play with my hair.

I settle with . . . “Well, it fit.”

“Was it good?” I feel the grin in his voice.

I pop him on the arm.

“Just the tip,” he teases, his wicked lips curling.

I mock growl at him, which only makes him chuckle more, the softness of his breath against my lips as he kisses me. I sigh into him. This day, this place, this moment—I want to capture it forever.

Chapter 22

DEVON

My alarm goes off at six, and I turn over, reaching for Giselle, but she isn’t there. Disappointment hits, but hearing the distant sound of water, I decide she’s in her shower. Checking my phone, I see I don’t have any calls, and I plop back on the pillows, my head wondering about Dad, hoping he’s okay. Before long, my mind drifts to last night with Giselle, snippets of us replaying in my head. I’ve never been with a virgin before, and unbidden, a smile crosses my face, and I laugh into my pillow. God, I’m such a weirdo when it comes to her . . . I don’t know, shit . . . but knowing that I was her first, that I’m the only man she’s shared her body with—that feeling, it’s fucking heady.

We drove home with her music blaring, my hand in hers the entire drive back to the penthouse. We made out in the elevator, kissed down the hall to the door, laughing as I tried to get the key in the lock. She wrapped herself around me, and I carried her to my shower and cleaned us up, then placed her on my bed and let her take the reins. Girl checked me out like I was the most fascinating science experiment she’d ever seen. I laugh up at the skylight. We didn’t go to sleep until one in the morning.

Jack pops up in my head, and I kick him down. I’m not going to hurt her. Every bone in my body rebels at the idea.

So what are you doing?

I stare up at the ceiling, the peek of the sunrise shining. I have no clue. I’m operating on instinct and going with the flow. She hasn’t made me promises, and neither did I. It’s possible she’s just exploring her sexuality with me; it’s possible this won’t last.

Later I come out of my shower with a towel around my waist and head to my closet, anxious to get dressed and talk to Giselle before I head out. My closet is huge, about the size of a bedroom, suits on one side, jeans and casual shirts on the other, clothes for the gym folded in cubbies in the back. Loafers, sneakers, and a myriad of other shoes are in boxes, neat and organized, but I can’t see anything because the light doesn’t come on when I flick it up and down. The bulb must be blown. A sound scrapes, like nails down a chalkboard, from the vicinity of the darkest part of the room, a spot near my tailored shirts. Maybe I’m hyperaware since the Cindy episode, but it makes me hesitate, picturing a giant spider with babies ready to pounce on my chest. I’m not scared of bugs, not really, but I don’t want an infestation in my house. Better tell Quinn to call the pest guy.

A light crawling sensation dances over my foot, and I skitter back. A beam of light flashes in my face, making me blink; then the light bounces down to a pointy-headed monster with a wide mouth and bloody, sharp teeth. It growls, and I yell and jump two feet back.

Laughter spills from Giselle as she whips off the shark mask and rolls on the floor. A flashlight falls from her hands. “Dev, oh my God, your face . . . dying . . .”

“You took out the light bulb?” My voice sounds incredulous.

“While you showered.” She giggles and throws the Jaws mask at me, and I catch it, holding it out with a disdainful finger. It’s hideous, and I throw it behind me. Will burn it later.

“Where did that thing come from?”

She bites her lip. “Ordered it the first time we watched Shark Week. Amazon Prime delivery.” Another fit of laughter. “I told you I’d get you.” Her eyes narrow. “Why are you smiling?”

“Oh, I’m just picturing fake spiders in your bed, on your laptop, in your panties.”

She rolls over to her back, her fingers playing over the edge of my shirt she’s wearing as she looks up at me with innocent blue eyes. “Try it. Give me all you got.”

I’m on her in a heartbeat, tickling her as she cries out and tries to scoot away from me, but there’s no escaping. She twists and turns under me as I run my hands under her shirt and dance my fingers over her ribs. Squealing, she begs me to stop, promising she’ll never scare me again, and I laugh, putting my face in her neck and inhaling the smell of her, soft and all Giselle. I’ve got her. I’ve got her. Here in my arms, with me. Fear spears me, snaking around, making my heart jump in my chest. I shove it away.

I’ve stilled, and she pulls my jaw up. “Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t like it.”

My eyes shut briefly. “In one of your universes, in the future, what am I doing? Where are you?”