I lift my head, something like panic fluttering in my throat. “But if we fall asleep, then it will be morning and this will be over.”
Devan takes me in with those dark eyes that have always seen too much. “That bother you?"
“Of course it bothers me.” We’ve already clearly lined out what tonight means, and I’m not about to change the rules now, no matter how my heart aches at the thought of never seeing him again. I can’t ask for more. I won’t. If I dredged up the courage to, and he rejected me, it would hurt too badly. Better to not put myself out there at all, at least not more than I already have tonight.
This paid off. Maybe telling him you want more time would, too?
I ignore that voice. I can’t allow hope to kindle, can’t indulge it for fear of it being dashed across the rocks of harsh reality.
Devan smooths my hair back. “I’d like to renegotiate.”
I blink. Renegotiate?
He keeps going before I can come up with a response. “Another day and night should be plenty of time to hit those last three birthdays.”
My chest gets tight. “You’re offering another twenty-four hours?”
“Yeah.” He watches my face closely. “If you’re good with that.”
It takes everything I have to keep my expression locked down. Even so, a smile pulls at the edges of my lips. “I suppose I could clear my schedule.”
“Do that.” He keeps up that soothing touch, trailing his fingers over my temple and down behind my ear. “I think we both need some recovery time.”
I’m delightfully sore, but he’s right. Much more and that delicious feeling might edge into something uncomfortable. I trail my fingers over the light dusting of hair across his chest. “I guess you’ll have to kiss my pussy better before you fuck me again.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t start something neither one of us can finish.”
I’m suddenly afraid that it’s exactly what I’ve done by orchestrating this trip down memory lane for us. How am I supposed to go back to fucking normal people after I’ve had Devan? He reaches down into my deepest, darkest parts and plucks the strings of my desires there. Without shame. Without judgment.
I don’t say any of that aloud, though. There’s no point. If I’m gifted with more time with Devan, I won’t do anything to endanger it. I have questions for him, though. “Can you answer something for me?”
He tenses, but seems to force himself to relax. “Sure.”
“What do you do for a living?”
Devan stares at me for a long moment and then gives a ragged laugh. “What a blow to the ego. You never bothered to look it up?”
“I did look it up. You don’t have a single social media profile that I can find. You’re not even on the business ones.” I honestly considered hiring a private investigator, but even I can recognize that doing so would cross half a dozen lines. Devan never did anything wrong, never acted in any way that would justify invading his privacy. I might be an asshole, but even I have limits. Most of the time.
He settles back against the bed and laces his hands behind his head. “I work in tech security.”
“What?” I frown. Of all the things I considered, that had never occurred to me. “You’re a geek?”
“Sure, if you want to put it like that. I’m good with computers, better with security systems and building firewalls and the like.” He waves that away. “It’s boring shit.”
I don’t think it’s boring at all. I settle more firmly against his side, relishing the closeness even as I tell myself not to get used to it. “I would have thought you’d do something more…physical.”
He raises his brows. “What makes you say that? I’m no hard-bodied soldier type. Not anymore.”
Not anymore.
He’s quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, he guides us back to safer topics. “Why would you think I’m a bruiser?”
“I mean…” I motion at him. “I’ve never met anyone with such a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe. That would be really useful in a number of professions; personal security, corporate security, really any kind of security.” Except tech security. I have a hard time imagining Devan behind a screen all day.
I sigh. “I guess it wasn’t hard to figure out where I’d gone on my birthdays when you are a tech dude.”
“Hazel.” He shakes his head slowly. “We talked about this downstairs. You know damn well you wanted me to find you. You tagged your location.” He frowns. “You’ve got to stop doing that shit. It’s not safe, especially with all the weirdos who follow you on social media. You’re just asking to get tossed into the back of a van.”
A thread of warmth curls through me at his ridiculous protectiveness. “I’m safe enough.”
“Uh huh.” He turns on his side, toppling me off him and onto my back. Sadly, he doesn’t immediately take advantage of our new positions; he simply studies my face. “You have some really hardcore fans. It’s only sheer luck that one of them haven’t edged over into stalking.”
Truth be told, there have been some close calls with that sort of thing. Being even remotely famous on the internet paves the way for creepy parasocial relationships that are all in people’s heads, and I’ve gotten my fair share of weird messages and emails and even on one scary occasion, a letter to my home.
Still, I smile because I’m not about to tell Devan that. He might think I’m trying to manipulate his sympathies or invite him to meddle in my life. I am most certainly not. “If you’re paying that close of attention, you’ll realize that these days I only tag a location leading up to my birthday.” An invitation of sorts, but only to this man.
“I know.” He smiles a little, though it fades nearly as soon as it appears. “Just promise me you won’t do it anymore after this birthday.”
After
