I grab his collar and pull him close again. “Yes,” I say. “You should.” My body feels hot and cold all at the same time, and I know he’s just flipped a switch inside of me. I’d turned everything inside me off in order to get through the last twenty-four hours. Neither one of has really slept, not even on the plane, and the horror of Tracy’s death and the circumstances have been chipping away at both of us. I need release. I need oblivion. I need to feel something other than this numb, painful horror.

  I need Devlin. And I know that he needs me, too.

  “It’s eating at me,” he says, backing away from me and running his fingers through his hair. He takes off his glasses and tosses them onto the bedside table, then rubs his hands over his face as if in exhaustion.

  And he is exhausted. His face is pale, making the scar that cuts down the right side of his face stand out. “I need you,” he says. “I need to dial this in.”

  I nod. I need him, too. More than that, I understand what he’s saying. These last few days, the world has been unraveling around us. Around him. A man used to being in control. Used to pushing buttons and making things happen behind the scenes. A man used to saving people, not losing them. Control has slipped from his grasp, and more than anything he needs to get it back. He will, I know. Of course, he will. But he needs it now, and the world isn’t bending to his will.

  But me…

  I’ll bend, and willingly, too. Because I need it as much as he does. He needs to push the limits of control? Well, I need to push the danger.

  I draw a breath and step closer, my heart pounding in my chest, my skin tingling with need. I start to speak, but I don’t get the chance. He takes my wrist and pulls me to him, then twists it behind me so that I’m pressed up against him, unable to move.

  “I need it hard,” he says, his body pressing against mine and his erection underscoring the words. “Tell me to stop now if you want, because once I have you in that bed, I’m not stopping for anything.”

  “Don’t you dare stop,” I say, then cry out when he grabs the waistband of the leggings I’m wearing and rips them right down the seam. He tumbles me back onto the bed, then tugs the remnants of the leggings off me. “Over,” he says, using his hands to indicate that he wants me on my stomach.

  I do as he says, my body flat on the bed. My head is turned, and I can see him in my periphery as he undresses, then joins me on the bed. He straddles my legs, his hands on my back. He brushes my hair away, then kisses the back of my neck as his hands slip between me and the mattress to cup my breasts as his cock teases my ass.

  Slowly—so deliciously slowly, he kisses his way down my spine, then urges me onto my knees. I’m nothing but greed and sensation now, and I cry out in surprised delight when he smacks my ass, not once, but twice. And then, when he slips his hand between my legs and eases his fingers inside me, I close my eyes and arch back, desperate for more, for everything.

  “Christ, I need you,” he whispers, then traces his fingertip from my clit all the way to my ass. I bite my lip as he teases me there, then suck in a gasp when he slips his fingertip past the tight muscle as he eases forward to whisper in my ear, “Do you remember what I said.”

  I moan, my body firing with need as he reaches over me for the lube we’ve left on the bedside table.

  “My fingers in your pussy, my cock in your ass.” The words are raw. Graphic. And a huge fucking turn on.

  “Yes,” I say, realizing I’m rocking in anticipation. I want this. There’s nothing I don’t want with Devlin, and tonight, I know we both need it. I need complete surrender. And so does he. He plays with me at first, teasing and touching. His fingers on my clit, his cock hard against my rear. And then, when I’m ready to beg, he thrusts his fingers inside me at the same time that his cock edges inside me, more pressure than pain, but a wonderfully sensual bite all the same.

  He plays me both ways in a rhythm that drives me to the edge and back but never quite takes me over. He’s relentless, and I’m floating on the edge, not sure how I’m going to survive this pleasure when the release never seems to come.

  Then what seems like, hours later—and yet all too soon—I feel his body stiffen, and then I know that I have to go with him. I have to explode in his arms. I have to lose control with him, because that is what this is all about. Us and control and trust and passion.

  Passion, I think as my body turns to starbursts, as he cries out my name and fills me, as I collapse onto the mattress, buried beneath the weight of his body, feeling wonderfully used and completely loved.

  We stay that way until the world rights itself, then get cleaned up before sliding back into bed, this time beneath the covers. He holds me close, and for the first time since yesterday, our bodies are drained of tension.

  I close my eyes, letting sleep come to claim me, but Devlin’s voice in my ear pulls me back, and I blink in confusion as he whispers, “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I ask.

  “For loving me, El,” he says. “Just for loving me.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I wake at half-past seven to an empty bed and the smell of frying bacon. Since I hadn’t thought to grab clothes from the room Lamar’s now occupying, I tug on the t-shirt I’d worn yesterday and my underwear, then head downstairs. Everyone in the house has seen me in less, including Lamar, and I don’t feel right borrowing the robe that hangs behind Mr. Big Shot’s bathroom door.

  Devlin’s already fully dressed in what he wore yesterday, and his eyes skim over me as I enter the kitchen, sending a tremor of heat up my spine the same way the touch of his fingers had last night.

  “You look very casual,” he says as Brandy glances my way, then laughs.

  “Admit it,” she says. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of our Mr. Saint.”

  “A rise?” I flash Devlin a seductive grin. “That’s always a good thing.”

  He clears his throat. “While I understand the concept of just friends, do me a favor and cover that very sweet ass before Lamar wakes up and comes out here.”

  I shake my head. “After the day he had? He’s going to sleep until at least noon. Trust me.” I wiggle my ass, simply because I’m enjoying the feel of this lighter mood. I know it can’t last, but I want to squeeze out all the moments I can. “Unless you have an issue with the outfit?” I add, raising a brow as I look at Devlin.

  “For in-home loungewear when other men aren’t around, I have no problem. Suggest we go out to lunch like that, and we’ll have a chat.”

  I smirk, then brush a kiss across his cheek before heading behind the counter to pour a cup of coffee and snag a muffin and a piece of bacon from the paper-towel covered plate.

  “Hey,” Brandy says, swatting my hand as I dance away, almost spilling my coffee.

  I take my score of bacon and settle in at the counter next to Devlin. “This is great,” I say, holding up a strip of bacon. “Lamar may regret sleeping in after all.”

  “Oh, he’s already gone,” Brandy says. “Said he’s eager to get to it.”

  I shoot her a what the fuck look, but she just shrugs.

  “What?” she protests. “I was having fun listening to you two bicker.”

  “Banter,” Devlin corrects. “We don’t bicker.”

  I take another bite of my bacon. “Sometimes we do,” I say. “But only because we can make up after.”

  “A definite perk,” Devlin says.

  “You guys are too freaking adorable,” Brandy says. “Which remind me—because Christopher is adorable, too—I talked to him last night.”

  “Oh, good,” I say, the relief so palpable I can feel it flow through me. “Did you tell him what we said? Not painting him with his brother’s brush and all that?”

  She nods, and her smile telegraphs her answer before she speaks. “He says he really appreciates hearing that, and he’ll definitely come over today. But he said he wasn’t going to spend the night.” Her cheeks flush. “But that’s not because of you guys.”

  “Oh, isn’t it?” I trill.

  One of her shoulders rises in time with her brightening smile. “He says he knows I don’t want to move too fast, and he’s afraid if we’re sharing a bed we will.”

  I sigh and press my hand over my heart.

  “Interesting,” Devlin says, clearly fighting a smile.

  “What?” Brandy asks.

  “Ellie’s reaction.” He turns to me. “I didn’t realize restraint was so romantic. I’ll make a note.”

  “Don’t you dare. And as for you,” I say, turning back to Brandy, “Good news all around.”

  “I think so. And, oh,” she adds to Devlin, “he said he was going to the foundation this morning. More research. But he also said he could do some internet research here if I’d rather.” She worries her lower lip a bit before continuing. “I know the sources are better at the foundation, but should I ask him to come here? I mean, I’ll lock the doors and everything once you two leave, but—”

  “If you want him here, ask him here. But I have security on the house already, so you don’t need to worry about being here alone.”

  “Right.” She quirks a half-smile in my direction. “I really should have guessed that.”

  “That’s my guy,” I say, then kiss his cheek. “But keep the doors locked and the alarm on anyway,” I tell her. “Just in case.”

  “She loves me, but she impugns my resources. It’s a sad world. She’s right about all that,” Devlin adds. “But it’s a sad world.”

  “I’ll cheer you up later,” I counter, making him laugh.

  “Speaking of the foundation,” Devlin says, “I scheduled a meeting for nine. Sources to help with the investigation.” He glances at me. “Can you get dressed that quick?”

  “Oh.” It’s the first I’ve heard of it, but since I’m assuming that sources means Saint’s Angels, there is no way I’m missing out. “Absolutely,” I assure him, entirely dropping my teasing tone. I point to Brandy. “Save me a muffin for later,” I beg, then take my coffee with me to my old room for a quick shower and to change. I debate casual or professional, then settle on nice jeans, a pair of last year’s Manolos, and a plain white tank top under a blazer.

  Devlin is still in what he wore yesterday, but he still looks completely pulled together as we say goodbye to Brandy and head out into the world.

  “Who are we meeting with?” I ask as we pull into the parking lot for the Devlin Saint Foundation. It’s a stunning building, with clean lines and lots of glass that looks out on the Pacific. Designed by “starchitect” Jackson Steele, Damien Stark’s half-brother, it’s in the ultra-contemporary style that helped make Jackson Steele’s name. But even so, it fits into the landscape, complementing the beach-side lot on the Pacific Coast Highway in a way that some of the newer restaurants and hotels can’t seem to manage.

  We arrive in Devlin’s Tesla, and I feel a pang of loss for Shelby, my beloved 1965 Shelby Cobra.

  “You okay?”

  Devlin is still behind the wheel, his attention on me. I shrug in response, and he gives me a gentle smile. “He’s good at what he does. Don’t write Shelby off yet.”

  “It’s like you know me,” I say, melting a little as I feel that connection spark between us. “And I love that you do.”

  He leans over to kiss me before we get out and head into the office. The receptionist, Eric, looks up, his smile faltering slightly before he plasters it back on. It’s then that I realize this is the first time Devlin’s been back on his own turf since the press outed him as The Wolf’s son.

  “Good morning, Eric,” Devlin says. “And don’t worry. I promise you won’t say something and step in it.”

  The younger man winces a little. “Sorry, Mr. Saint. I mean, sorry for not knowing what to say. I wasn’t sure if you wanted anyone to know.”

  Now, Devlin’s smile is one of amusement. “As it happens, that choice was taken from me. But to be more specific, I have no problem with you knowing the story of my past, so long as you—and everyone here at the DSF—also understands that I had no choice in who fathered me. But I did choose to leave.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eric says. “That must have been—well, that must have been hard.”

  “It was. But growing an organization like this and bringing in good people like you has made the journey easier. You have a good day, Eric.”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Thanks, Mr. Saint.”

  “You handled that well,” I say when we’re in the elevator.

  “I should have said something much earlier. That oversight’s on me.”

  “You haven’t been here, and it was the weekend.”

  “Under the circumstances, the weekend is no excuse. And believe it or not, my team is remarkably adept at video-conferencing. What with being a cutting edge organization.”

  I roll my eyes as the doors open on the fourth floor. “Fair enough,” I say. “Better late than never?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. Tamra,” he continues, and I realize that Tamra is sitting at the desk outside his office. “Can you schedule in time for me today to address the staff?”

  “Of course. And good morning, Ellie. How are you doing?”

  “Still a bit unsteady,” I admit. “Seeing you at this desk…” I trail off as she nods.

  “I know. First Anna, now Tracy. On the whole, this desk doesn’t have the best history.”

  “It’s a goddamn tragedy, but it’s not a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Devlin snaps.

  “Of course not,” Tamra says quickly. “I didn’t mean—”

  “No. Of course you didn’t.” He presses his fingers to his temple, then reaches out for me. I take his hand and squeeze, offering him my strength. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—” He draws in a breath. “I didn’t realize how on edge I am.”

  “Understandably,” Tamra says. “And you should know that you don’t have to worry about being yourself around me.”

  “I know,” he says, “and I love you for it. I am sorry about the desk. Neither of us is superstitious, but why don’t we order a new one. Start fresh with our new hire.”

  “Of course. And I’ve already called the agency. They’ll start screening candidates to fill the position today.”

  “Thanks, Tamra.”

  “Of course.” She nods to the double doors that lead to his office. “Penn and Claire are already inside,” she adds. “Are you ready, or do you need a moment? I can tell them you were held up.”

  “No, it’s fine. Ellie?”

  I nod. I don’t know either of them, but out here I feel the loss too potently. The times I laughed with Anna. Tracy’s wide smile and eagerness to learn everything she could.

  “All right then,” Tamra says as she leans over to push the button to open the doors to his office. The huge wooden doors swing open automatically, and as always, I feel as if the motion should be accompanied by a rousing classical score. But it’s just doors, and I follow Devlin inside, curious to see who we’re meeting.

  Penn turns out to be Cory Pennfield and Claire is his wife, who both rise to greet us. Claire is tall and thin with a wide smile, and she pretty much towers over Penn who stands at least six inches shorter, with the stocky build of a wrestler. “So nice to meet you,” Clair says, as we take our seats. Penn and Claire on the sofa with me in one of the chairs and Devlin perched on the arm, his hand resting on my shoulder.

  “They’ve both worked with me for, what?” Devlin asks. “Over five years now?”

  “Hard to believe we’ve put up with him so long,” Claire says, aiming a grin my direction. “Fortunately, he’s easy on the eyes, so that makes the assignments more palatable.”

  “You’ll have to forgive my wife. Her favorite hobby is to flirt with Devlin.”

  “I keep trying to get a reaction,” she says, laughing. “I’ve never managed.” Her smile widens. “Now I see why. He’s been waiting for the right woman to come along.”

  “I had to,” Devlin says. “Penn would have beat the shit out of me if I’d fallen prey to your killer smile.”

  “Hey,” I say, feigning indignation.

  “Oh, and the little fact that I was in love with someone else.” He takes my hand, then raises it to his lips and kisses it.

  “All kidding aside,” Claire says, “it’s wonderful to finally meet you. Devlin’s talked a lot about you over the years.”

  “I—” I turn to him, confused. “You have?”

  “Penn’s known me as long as Ronan has. Claire a bit less.”

  “Devlin and Penn served together,” she said. “And I met Penn in a rather unconventional way.”

  “Oh,” I say, surprised and pleased to know he’d talked about me back then. I pause, expecting her to elaborate on the story of how they met. She doesn’t, though, and so I clear my throat and add, “So, um, Devlin sort of suggested you might have information about Tracy’s murder. Or who leaked his identity?” I realize as I speak that I’m not exactly sure what he meant when he said “source” at breakfast.

  “Claire and Penn are two of the original members of Saint’s Angels, and they run the Midwestern operation. I’ve asked them to work on the investigation into Blackstone, especially since he’s based in Chicago.”

  “Great,” I say. “Have you learned anything so far?”

  “We know he was here in Orange County for the past four days,” Penn says. “At the moment, he’s on a flight back to Illinois.”

  “And I know that he killed Tracy,” Devlin adds. “But I’m not going forward without proof. My girlfriend has standards, after all.”

  “She does,” I agree. “Do you have any proof yet?”

  “We’re making progress,” Claire says. “Give us another twelve hours and we’ll update.”

  I look between the three of them, impressed by how quickly the wheels have begun turning.

  Devlin draws a breath and looks at each of them in turn. “I want to know where he goes when he lands. Home? His office? A safe house? Somewhere else entirely? I want confirmation he did this—either by his own hand or by an order. And I want eyes on him. His every move. As much intel and as soon as you can get it.”