The most delicious smell fills the air. And the speakers are throbbing with rock music. Devlin’s in the kitchen in nothing but jeans, showing off his amazing shoulders and narrow waist, and he’s doing pelvic thrusts to the beat of the song. There are some red marks on his back. My face heats as I realize they’re from my nails.
He turns around and beams. “Hey, welcome home.” He stops thrusting, comes over and kisses me softly.
“Do they hurt?” I ask, gesturing.
“Huh?” Dev twists around to see what I’m looking at. “Oh, those? Nah, I like ’em. Reminds me how much fun we had.”
Now my whole body’s flaming.
“You can give me more if you want. I’m easy like that.”
“Uh, maybe later,” I say, and immediately want to kick myself for not having my filter engaged. Time to change the subject. “So what are you making?”
“Paella. Almost done.”
I had it once in New York City. The rice dish looked like it’d take a long time to make. “You didn’t have to do that. We could’ve ordered pizza.”
“Hey, my paella’s not that bad. It’s an authentic recipe from Spain.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re on a break after a long tour. And cooking isn’t your hobby.”
“How do you know?” He grins suddenly. “You went and read all my interviews, didn’t you?”
“No,” I say, not wanting to admit that I did exactly that. “You just don’t strike me as the cooking type.”
“Well, that’s sort of true. You are the first woman I’ve cooked for. Other than my mom, that is.” He sounds pretty satisfied. Almost proud.
“Oh.” Does this mean he likes me? For something more than just my ability to make his dick hard? I’m still not convinced he has an erectile issue, but… Whatever. He’s a confusing guy, nothing like anybody I’ve ever been with before. “Well, um… Let me just go wash up.” I didn’t do much work today, but I still have some paint on my hands.
“Sure. Take your time.”
So I do, to give myself a little room to settle down. He’s behaving in ways I didn’t expect. Actually, I’m surprised he knows how to buy groceries. The interviews basically said he grew up rich. Like top 0.01 percent rich. With servants.
He seems to be adjusting to normal, non-rich life well enough, though maybe it’s the novelty that he’s enjoying—for the moment. But can it really last? When it wears off, he’s going to want a mansion and servants…isn’t he?
Meh. He’s probably okay with the way things are right now because we have a firm deadline. I shouldn’t overthink this.
When I come out, my hands clean and dry, he’s already set the table with some sangria in a pitcher. Also, lots of lit candles. I quickly flip through my mental calendar, wondering if today’s some kind of anniversary I didn’t know about. Where the hell did I leave my phone?
Finally, I give up. “Wow. What’s the occasion?”
“Nothing at all. Just felt like getting a little fancy tonight.”
I smile. This can’t be about wanting to get laid because we’ve been having lots of sex. Did he do something he shouldn’t have? My ex-boyfriends always did something unexpectedly nice after they’d messed up. It was their way of apologizing without actually admitting to anything. Assholes.
Maybe Devlin kissed Sylvie. Or he’s hiding a groupie in the walk-in closet. And I’ll have to get another mannequin and paint a big D on it.
On the other hand, he values his friendship with Max, so maybe he’s behaving and this really is just him being nice for no reason. It never happened with my ex-boyfriends, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
So I sit down with him at the table. We clink glasses, and I take a sip of the sangria.
“Wow. This is really good.”
Devlin laughs. “Wait till you have the paella.”
I have a bite, and it is amazing. The rice is perfectly cooked, the spices wonderfully blended together, the shrimp totally succulent and juicy. I give him a look. “You sure you didn’t buy this from a restaurant and pretend it’s home-cooked?” There might be a new place in a town that I haven’t heard of.
He laughs again. “No. But I’ll take that as a compliment.” He tastes his portion. “Damn. Came out even better than I expected.”