Fool for Love (38 page)

“Wait,” she whispered. “I wanted … I want…”

Her words faded as he lingered, increasing the pressure and pace of his tongue until she shattered, an explosive orgasm that sent shock waves of lust to his core. He moved over her, reaching for a foil packet on the nightstand.

“Not yet.” She nabbed his wrist, finessed him onto his back. Impressive. Exciting. “Told you I’d have my way.”

Well, hell.

Devlin summoned calm and stamina as she straddled him and kissed her way down his body.
Holy shit.

“My turn to savor.”

Her fingers scorched his skin as they skimmed over his bunched muscles, as they kneaded, tickled, tempted. Her mouth,
ah, Christ,
so soft, so demanding. When she closed her lips over his cock, he tensed with erotic euphoria. Even though she was an adventurous, passionate soul, she still struck him as old fashioned and sweet. As a result, going down on him was a magnified turn-on. On the brink of losing it, he nabbed her forearms and pulled her up his body. “I’m going to fuck you blind.”

Instead of shying away from his coarse declaration, she smiled, an ornery grin that amped his desire. “Sorry,” she rasped. “My turn.” She nabbed the condom from the nightstand.

He watched as she rolled on the Trojan—no coy tricks or looks, just a straightforward process, which was somehow sexy as hell. He drank in her curves, her flawless skin, and that sweet face. “You’re beautiful, Chloe.”

“Even with the bumps and bruises?”

“Badges of honor,” he gritted out as she lowered herself onto him. “You were on a noble mission.”

“On a mission now, too,” she teased. “Although I wouldn’t call it noble.”

“What would you call it?”

She rolled her hips, riding him slow, driving him crazy. He groaned and she smiled. “I’d call it selfish.” Hands braced on his shoulders, she continued her sexy assault.

He let her have her way, her pace, even though it was killing him. He refused to climax before her, and damn, unlike last night, she had unbelievable restraint. She picked up the rhythm, her face heated from passion and exertion. He gripped her hips, reveled in her dominance. “Let me have it, baby.”

“Come for me,” she demanded.

“You first.”

When she grasped his wrists and pushed his arms over his head, holding him captive, he nearly lost it. His heart pounded like a jackhammer in his ears. Then he heard his name, only it wasn’t Chloe.

She stilled.

He listened. The pounding sounded again.

Not his heart.

The front door.

He closed his eyes, cursed. “Luke.”

Flustered, Chloe rolled off of him and wiggled under the blanket. “What’s he doing here?”

“What time is it?” Devlin reached for his Android. “The battery died.” He nabbed his wristwatch, blinked. “Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s almost noon.”

“You’re
kidding
!”

It’s not like they’d had marathon sex last night, but they had kept late hours and they had fooled around. A lot. Still, he hadn’t been
that
exhausted. Content, maybe. Shaking off a barrage of thoughts, he rolled out of bed. “Who knows how long my phone’s been dead and how long they’ve been trying to call.” He slipped into the bathroom, flushed the condom. “We were expected at the hospital this morning.”

“And I lost my phone back in the woods. Crap.”

She scrambled into the bathroom as he emerged, shoving his legs into his shorts and pulling on his pants. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Chloe hooking her bra, and mourned their stolen orgasm. Luke pounded on the door again and as Devlin stalked out of the bedroom he seriously thought about killing his brother.

The timing of the morning was royally screwed. Bad went to worse when Devlin wrenched open the door just as Chloe limped into the room pulling down her dress and asking, “Where did you put my underwear?”

It wasn’t Luke’s raised brow that bothered Devlin as much as the mottled face of the stranger standing just over his shoulder.

King of the understatement, Luke said, “This is awkward.”

The other man pulled him aside and Chloe gasped. “Daddy.”

Hell.
“I can explain, sir.” Although Devlin wasn’t sure exactly how to address the obvious.

The older man glared. “I’d rather hear it from my daughter.”

Luke cleared his throat, looked back and forth between the two men. “Dev, this is Mr. Madison. Mr. Madison, my brother … uh … right.” His other brow shot up. “Could I have a word with you outside, Dev?”

Devlin looked back at Chloe—standing there in her wrinkled dress, no underwear, twisting her bed-mussed hair into a knot—and kicked himself a thousand times for making things worse between her and her father.

“It’s okay,” she told Devlin as the steely-faced man shouldered his way into the cabin. When she bolstered her shoulders and faced her disgruntled parent, Devlin ached to be her champion—whether she liked it or not.

Luke yanked him over the threshold and shut the door.
What the fuck?
he mouthed, dragging Devlin off the porch and away from the cabin.

“Why did you bring him here?”

“Why didn’t you answer my calls? Or Rocky’s? Or Gram’s, Chris’s, or Monica’s? Between all of us, we’ve been trying to call you and Chloe since nine a.m.”

“My phone died,” Devlin explained while buttoning his shirt. “No charger. And Chloe lost her phone in the woods.”

“All the more reason to haul ass to Pixley first thing this morning. You had to know we’d be worried.”

“We just woke up.”

“It’s noon.”

“I know.”

Hands on hips, Luke stared. “You’ve been getting up at the butt crack of dawn every morning since we were teens.”

“I know.”

Luke jammed a hand through his shaggy hair. “So what? You overslept, then decided to indulge in a roll in the sack before a leisurely drive to Pixley? Who are you and what have you done with my pain-in-the-ass, ultraresponsible brother?”

“It wasn’t like that, and get your mind and mouth out of the gutter when referring to Chloe.” He hadn’t meant to sound so brusque, but damn.

“Oh, hell.” Luke did a double take. “Are you serious?”

Devlin swung away and looked toward the cabin. What was going on in there?

Luke moved into his line of vision. “I knew you were hot for Chloe. We all saw the sparks, but … Are you in
love
?”

He didn’t answer.

Luke shook his head, whistled low. “I don’t know whether to celebrate or worry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean love at first sight or first … uh, hookup, well, that’s fine. But you being you … You’re not going to do something foolish—”

“Like?”

“Like asking her to marry you just because her dad caught you two, well…”—he waved a hand in the air—“you know. First of all, that’s fricking old fashioned. Second, you barely know her.”

Devlin tempered his anger, angled his head. “Not sure you’re the best person to dole out advice on meaningful relationships.”

If the insult registered, Luke didn’t show it. “Just don’t want to see you making the same mistake twice.”

“You’re the one who reminded me Chloe’s nothing like Janna.”

“I’m talking about rushing into marriage because of your overdeveloped sense of duty.”

Stomach cramped with fury and regret, Devlin leaned in and lowered his voice. “She was pregnant with my baby. What would you have done?”

“Since you’re asking, first I would’ve made sure the baby
was
mine.”

Devlin clocked his little brother with a swift uppercut.

Luke stumbled back, then, finding his balance, massaged his jaw. “Damn.”

“Sorry.” Really he was. His brother had simply voiced what a lot of people had thought. Yes, Devlin and Janna had been involved on and off for two years and, yes, she’d dated other guys in between, but when she’d come to him sobbing, when she’d told him she was pregnant … just knowing the child was very possibly his and that her parents were throwing her out … that had been enough for him to postpone attending college in favor of settling down.

Luke horned in on his thoughts. “That was uncalled for,” he said. “My taunt, that is. Sorry. I just … I want you to be happy, Dev.”

Instead of a hug or handshake or, God forbid, a philosophical discussion, Devlin breezed over the altercation with a cocked brow, something he knew his brother would understand. “I need to check in with Gram and Rocky.”

Luke tossed him his BlackBerry, then leaned back against his SUV and crossed his arms. “This should be good.”

*   *   *

As soon as the door shut, as soon as it was just Chloe and her dad, she broke down and rushed into his arms. Three years. She hadn’t seen him for three
years.
It hadn’t seemed that long until this moment. Life had whizzed by and distance had muted the intensity of their disconnection. As she saw him, touched him, all the strife she’d felt, the resentment and disappointment, melted away. Overwhelmed, tears slipped down her cheeks as she regressed to the little girl who’d once worshiped her daddy. No matter their baggage, he was her blood. If she’d learned anything from the Monroes, it was that family was messy. But with love and respect anything was fixable. She hugged her dad with all of her might, her heart breaking when he didn’t hug back.

“I know this looks bad,” she said.

“It will look slightly better when you’re fully clothed.”

No underwear. Right. Mortified, she eased back and disappeared into the bedroom, then the bathroom. She looked harder and found her clean, dry thong inside the shower stall. She pulled it on and, addressing her pitiful reflection in the mirror, pulled herself together. “He’s never been the touchy-feely type,” she reminded herself. Even if she’d been decently dressed, he would’ve tensed when she assaulted him with that teary hug.

She dried her eyes, then unknotted her hair, allowing it to hang loose in order to hide the discolored bump near her temple. Taking a deep breath, she pulled on her green socks and Daisy’s pink boots, smoothed her cheery dress, then calmly made her way back into the living room. Her dad had settled on the edge of the sofa. Skittish now, she didn’t sit beside him but across from him in a mismatched club chair. “I—”

“Let me speak.”

Except he fell silent for a good two minutes. She supposed he was contemplating his words. She contemplated his appearance. An old-fashioned businessman, he’d always worn a shirt and tie and he wore one now, only the shirt was wrinkled and the tie crooked. He looked unkempt, tired. He looked older. She mourned the time lost.

At last he dropped his greying head. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“I do,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry my fear of dying pushed us apart.”

His head snapped up.

She swallowed hard. “I want to talk about Mom.”

*   *   *

Devlin had just disconnected with Rocky when Chloe and her dad emerged from the cabin. He passed Luke his phone, watched as the father and daughter shared a brief, stiff hug. According to Jayce’s report, Roger Madison was a highly successful car dealer who owned a small franchise. Considering his occupation, Devlin would have guessed him to be charismatic, gregarious—a people person. Granted this was a tense situation, but the man didn’t exhibit an ounce of warmth. Conservative, uptight, judgmental, and, according to Chloe, controlling. No wonder she was estranged from the man.

“Brace yourself,” Luke muttered under his breath as Madison left the porch and strode toward them.

Devlin braced, although he wasn’t sure for what. A lecture? A smackdown? A punch in the gut?

“Could I trouble you for a ride back to Sugar Creek?” Madison asked Luke.

Luke shifted. “Actually I was hoping…” He sighed, shoved a hand through his hair. “Sure.” He looked to Devlin. “Tell Gram I’ll visit later today.” He waved to Chloe, flashed Devlin a baffled look, then turned for his SUV. “Ready when you are, Mr. Madison.”

“Hurt her,” the man said to Devlin, “and I’ll find a way to hurt you.”

The threat should have made him angry. Instead it gave him hope that the man actually loved his daughter.

Devlin sure as hell did. In spite of his hang-ups. In spite of his history with women. He’d accepted the fact last night while she’d stirred spices into their canned soup. Not exactly a hearts and roses moment. But one that had seduced him heart and soul.

Just now she looked both vulnerable and strong. An intoxicating mix. He waited until Luke pulled away until he approached. “You okay?”

She tilted her face to the sun, closed her eyes, and breathed deep. “Living in the moment.”

THIRTY-SIX

“Are we going to talk about it?”

Chloe shifted in the passenger seat of the Hummer. She’d wondered when Devlin was going to pry. The whole time they’d tidied the cabin, she’d expected him to interrogate her about her dad, but Devlin had held silent, assumedly waiting for her to broach the subject first.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk about it. She just needed time to put her thoughts and feelings in perspective. Now that they were on the road to Pixley and the heartfelt conversation with her dad was twenty minutes behind her, she felt calm enough to share her thoughts without deteriorating into an emotional basket case.

“I know he didn’t make the best impression,” Chloe started, “but considering what he walked in on—”

“Trust me. That part I understand.”

She shifted her glance from the passing scenery—vastly different on a sunshiny day—to the man navigating the winding road with ease. So confident and caring. Her love for him grew with every beat of her heart. Suddenly she ached for Devlin to know as much about her family as she knew about his. Even though her immediate family only consisted of two.

“My dad was never an overly demonstrative man,” she explained. “It’s not that he didn’t love Mom and me; he was just uncomfortable with displays of affection. Mom was the warm and fuzzy one. Dad … he showed his love by buying us things and taking us places. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this, but my dad’s stinking rich. He owns a car dealership. A franchise actually.”