“Why don’t you get in and we’ll discuss it after you’ve calmed down?” Devon suggested.
“I am calmed down!” I protested with a screech, slapping my own thighs like a toddler.
“Evidently,” he deadpanned.
Finally, I stepped into the bath and lowered my body into it. Closing my eyes, I felt the warmth of the water and the tingling of the soap clinging to my body.
The scent of strawberry and citrus was heightened by the humidity in the room. Behind me, Devon took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and began massaging my shoulders.
“You’re aroused,” he stated. His fingers tickled the flyaways escaping from my high bun. They slid lower, toward my breasts, avoiding the sensitive territory but skating closer.
“Aroused,” I repeated with a chuckle. “You’re so old.”
“You’re so pregnant.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You have cravings. Needs,” Devon explained.
“Yeah,” I admitted with a sigh, momentarily disarmed by the massage and the bubble bath and the knowledge I was safe with him.
“What stops you from sleeping around?” he asked, lethally blasé.
“Uh, the fact that I’m knocked up?”
“It’s not going to hurt the baby. Doctor Bjorn told us that himself.”
Yeah, Doctor Bjorn, who was shipping Bellon （Belle + Devon）， constantly reminded us we could and indeed should pork.
“I don’t want to share my body with anyone else.”
“Not anyone?” he asked with mock innocence, his confident fingers rolling lower toward my heavy, sensitive breasts.
“You’ve already made your mark on me for the next few months.” I flicked pearls of soap at his face teasingly. “It wouldn’t feel as outrageous if we got in bed together.”
Devon’s fingers slid to the back of my neck, digging in delicious, slow circles. “Let’s make a deal—you’ll answer a few questions, and if I’m satisfied with your answers, I’ll bring you to release.”
“Nice grandiose ego you’ve got yourself there. I still own vibrators, you know,” I groaned.
But he was right. My whole body was aflame. I wanted to grab his collar and pull him down with me.
“It’s okay to need someone sometimes,” Devon whispered, the warm air from his mouth skating over the shell of my ear. He was so close that I could feel the heat of his body against mine. Every hair on my body stood on end. My nipples ached, and my thighs rubbed together underwater.
I was minutes away from slipping a hand between them and doing the job myself.
I turned to face him, our eyes meeting. Blue on blue. His, crystal clear as the morning sky. Mine, a much darker shade, dotted with purple around the irises.
“It’s never okay to need anyone,” I croaked.
“That’s a terrible way to exist, Sweven. I’ll always be there for you. Rain or shine.”
“How many questions?” I sniffed.
“That wholly depends on your answers.”
I nodded my approval.
“Question number one. Why didn’t you tell me a man stalked you in Boston Common all those months ago?” Devon cupped my breasts, his thumbs rolling around my nipples, making my whole body quake.
My breath hitched. “I didn’t want you to interfere with my life more than you already had.”
“Second question—have there been any more signs since that someone is after you?”
I didn’t want to admit that there were. Didn’t want him to put more Simons on me. Anyway, I truly did believe Frank was probably done. The parking lot thing was a one-off. Why else would he make himself known?
When Devon noticed my hesitation, one of his hands slipped from my breasts, sliding down my stomach, his pinky flicking my groin with just the faintest touch. I gasped and writhed shamelessly. How was I supposed to conduct a conversation like this?
“This is blackmail,” I said hotly.
“I never pretended to be fair. Now answer the question.” He bit the shell of my ear softly.
“Yes. A letter arrived shortly after Boston Common. Threatening to kill me. That’s when I started carrying my gun everywhere.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police at that point?”
“I didn’t want the bad press to stick to Madame Mayhem or have you and my family on my case. I get hate mail on a daily basis. And look, months have passed with no more signs.”
“Do you know who it might be?”