My Cruel Salvation Read online

  I stayed after I graduated because even though I have a job now, I’m not exactly pulling in the big bucks. Plus, despite the dicey neighborhood, I really do love the place, and my unit is darling. Or it is now, since I spent my first few weeks in New York painting walls and sanding floors.

  It’s small, but well-appointed, and there’s more than enough space for me. Even the terrible plumbing has become something I think of as character rather than an irritation. The place has improved considerably over the years, too. A new owner came in about six months after I signed the lease, and now there’s a full-time security guard in the expanded lobby, shiny new paint throughout, and rumors that an elevator may be in the works. Even the plumbing that had given me fits those first months is better, though the pipes still make a strange howling noise that I’ve come to think of as the ghosts of residents past.

  Under normal circumstances, I’d be sad to leave it behind. But since I’m moving back to Laguna Cortez and Devlin, all I really care about is finding someone to take over the lease who will love the place as much as I do.

  “This is it,” I say, taking Devlin’s hand. It’s dark, so it’s not as if we can see the architectural details, but the new owner added decent exterior lighting and a freshened up look for the entryway.

  “Ms. Holmes, so good to have you back.” William, the night guard, smiles at me as we step inside, following the driver who’s already taken in our bags. “Want me to send your luggage up?”

  That was the best thing the new owner did—installed a dumbwaiter at the same time the plumbing was revamped. Not big enough for people, but it’s great for luggage and groceries.

  “You’re the best,” I tell him.

  “The bags will meet you upstairs.” His smile broadens. “We’ve certainly missed you around here. And Mr. Saint.” He gives a quick nod toward Devlin. “Sir, we weren’t expecting to see you today. I read about your award, though. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, William,” he says, not bothering to explain that William clearly doesn’t have the full story yet. I frown, hoping William doesn’t feel awkward in the morning the next time he sees Devlin and realizes that the congratulations were misplaced. After all—

  My thoughts come to a screeching halt. I’d never said William’s name aloud.

  So how did Devlin know it? For that matter, why was William so familiar with Devlin Saint? I’ve known William for years, and he’s never seemed to be the type to keep up with celebrity gossip.

  I’d been heading for the stairs, but now I come to a stop.

  “Ellie?”

  I look up at him, then flash a smile at both him and William. “Nothing. Just tired. We should head up. I’m on the sixth floor,” I add, though at this point I’m certain that Devlin knows exactly where I live. Not to mention how long I’ve lived here, my credit score, and how much I pay in rent.

  By the time we reach the landing, the dumbwaiter has brought our bags up. We grab them, and as soon as I open the door, Devlin takes them inside.

  “This is it,” I say, sweeping my arm to encompass the studio. After I graduated, I’d splurged and hired a handyman to come install a sliding bookcase, both because I wanted a place for my books and so that it could act as a wall to form a DIY bedroom in the studio apartment. Right now, the two components of the bookcase are together, so that the bedroom area is visible. But if I have guests, I can slide one set of bookcases over, to form a solid wall.

  “It’s nice,” he says, with what sounds a bit like pride.

  I smirk. “Well, I hope you’d think so. You own this building, after all.”

  He chuckles. “Busted.” Then he points to the bookcases. “I think that might be in violation of your lease.”

  “Ha ha. Seriously, Devlin. You freaking own this building. What the hell?”

  He shrugs. “It was a good investment. Plus, I wanted to make sure you were safe and comfortable.”

  “You bought this place so that you could fix up the building I live in?” It’s not really a question since I already know the answer.

  His smile broadens, and I shake my head, not sure if I’m awed, annoyed, or amused. “But how did you—” I pause. I know perfectly well how he managed it. He’d watched me in the years after he’d killed Peter and fled from Laguna Cortez … and from me. And all the while, he’d carefully ensured that I didn’t know he was there.

  Because he was watching me, he would have learned when I applied for grad school, not to mention when I was accepted. And then all he had to do was make a too-good-to-be-true offer to the building’s owner once I’d signed the lease.

  “At least I know who to go to when the plumbing goes wonky.”

  “Baby,” he says, “you know I’ll always take care of your plumbing.”

  He says it with such a ridiculous leer that I can’t help but laugh as I pull him toward the couch with me. I push him down, then straddle him. “We lost so much time,” I say. “Especially when you consider how close we were during those years when I thought we were so far apart.”

  “You know why.”

  I nod. I understand why he left, and why he became Devlin Saint, and even why he never intended to seek me out and tell me the truth. “I do,” I admit. “But I still mourn the past we could have had.”

  “The past always comes back to you,” he says, his voice turning harsh.

  I tense, hating that we’ve circled back to the award and his father, even though I know that in reality it was always hiding there beneath the surface of our banter. We’d put it away in front of the driver and William. But now that we’re alone, things are different. Now, he’s free to feel the pain, and I’m here to help him get through it.

  I press my hand to his cheek. “You have every right to be pissed,” I say. “At your father, at the committee. Hell, even at Damien Stark. He obviously didn’t manage to convince Livingston to not pull the plug.”

  He half-grins at that, then his expression turns serious. “I’m pissed,” he says. “I can admit it. Angry and hurt and—goddammit.”

  He pushes me aside as he rises off the couch and starts pacing as if talking about it has flipped a switch. I see the anger bubbling inside him, but there’s something else, too. Something bigger. Darker. Something I’m not sure I understand yet.

  For that matter, something I’m not sure I want to.

  “Devlin?” His name feels tentative on my lips. “Devlin, are you okay?”

  He stalks back to me, the air around him practically vibrating with an unfamiliar wildness as he tugs me to my feet. He reaches out, twining his fingers in my hair then tilting my head back as his mouth claims mine in a wild assault of teeth and tongue filled with so much passion and need that my knees go week. I reach up, gripping his shoulders for balance.

  His other hand goes to the zipper on my dress, and he tugs it all the way down so that my back is bare to the curve of my rear. He slides his fingers down, parting my butt cheeks, and I tremble as he strokes the sensitive muscles of my ass. I hear a low growl in his throat. His thumb stays in place, making me long for something I’ve never had before as his other fingers move lower, finally thrusting roughly inside me.

  “Yes,” I murmur, writhing against him, wanting him deeper. Wilder. Wanting him to throw me down and fuck me hard because all I really want at this moment is to be connected to him. To be one with him.

  I start to lift a hand, intending to slip out of the dress’s spaghetti straps.

  “No.” That’s all he says, and before I have a chance to question, his fingers are no longer twined in my hair. Instead, he’s ripping the damn straps free so that the shimmery material now falls down around my feet, leaving me in nothing except the strappy Louis Vuitton heels I’ve yet to take off.

  “I liked that dress,” I murmur, not remotely upset.

  “I like you better naked.”

  I try to answer, but his fingers thrust deeper, stealing my words. And then, before I even realize what’s happening, he’s no longer inside me
. I barely have time to draw a breath before I’m pushed up against the wall. He grabs my thigh, lifting it up and hooking it around his hip. Then I hear the metallic scrape of his zipper and the next thing I know, he’s inside me, fucking me hard as my back scrapes against the wall with each powerful, demanding thrust.

  I start to cry out, but his hand clamps over my mouth, silencing me as he slams into me over and over with a wild brutality that has my nipples tightening and an orgasm rushing like an out of control train toward an explosion so intense I think I just might rip apart from the tremors that tear through my body.

  All too soon, Devlin explodes inside me, our eyes locked on each other as my body clenches tight around his cock, and though my back feels raw, I can’t remember ever feeling this wonderfully, deliciously used.

  “El,” he says, his voice so soft I can barely hear it. He pulls me down to the floor, and we land hard.

  “Holy fuck,” I say, not even caring about the hard wood floor beneath me. My heart is pounding and every inch of my skin feels alive. “That was—”

  “Did you mean it?” His voice is low. Steady. But there’s something in his tone that worries me.

  I roll onto my side and prop myself up, my brow furrowed as I try to figure out what he means.

  “You once told me I could use you,” he explains his hands going to my hips and urging me to straddle him. “Rough, sweet, whatever I needed.” He’s still semi-hard, and he guides my hips so that I’m stroking my pussy against him, and the friction on my sensitive clit sends tremors of ecstasy ricocheting through me. “Did you mean it?” he repeats.

  “About using me?” My voice is breathy. “I think you just did.”

  His expression darkens, and I frown, regretting my teasing tone. “Devlin, oh, God, yes. Of course, I meant it. Whatever you need. However you want. And you don’t have to ask.” I bend forward, my bare breasts brushing the smooth silk blend of his tuxedo jacket as I brush my lips over his ear. “It’s better when you don’t ask.”

  I feel, but don’t hear, his laughter. “I love you, El. I love you, and I’m so damn sorry.”

  “Sorry?” I pull back to study his face. “What on earth for?”

  “I lied, El. I’m a goddamn coward, and I lied.”

  Chapter Seven

  I stare at him, fear cutting through me as I push myself up and off of him so that I’m on the floor beside him, my knees hugged to my chest. “What are you talking about?”

  He sits up, too, then slowly takes off the jacket and lays it on the floor, the silk lining exposed. “I once told you that I’d leave if that’s what it takes to protect you, but that was bullshit. Even if me walking away right this minute could take that target off your back, I wouldn’t go. You’re mine,” he says fiercely. “Dammit, El, tell me you’re mine.”

  I study his face. His expression that is both determined and vulnerable. “Devlin. Oh, Devlin, my love. You know I am.”

  I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the warm tears trickle down my cheeks. I move closer to him, then start to unbutton his shirt. “I’m yours,” I repeat. “Spank me, fuck me. Use me however you want. Just never, ever leave me.”

  “I won’t. I can’t. And dammit, El, I hate myself for it.”

  “No.” I can feel my heart breaking. “Devlin, no.”

  “Do you realize the danger tonight put you in?” There’s fury in his voice. At whoever leaked his identity and at himself. “If I’d just pushed you away when you came back to Laguna Cortez. If I’d never let you see under my goddamn mask—”

  “What?” I snap. “Then I might not be in danger? I was in danger, and you know it. I was a fucking danger to myself.” It’s true. I’d taken so many risks. Stupid things like fucking dangerous men to really stupid things like taking mountain curves too fast. I’d been reckless, tempting that bitch Fate because she’d stolen everyone I love from me.

  “You’re not putting me in danger,” I tell him. “God, Devlin, after everything we’ve been through, don’t you get it? You’re the one who keeps me safe. You keep me centered. It’s not me flipping the bird at Fate anymore. It’s you and me together, telling whoever’s trying to harm us that they better run far and fast. Because you—we—won’t let them get away with it.”

  I squeeze his hands. “Please, please hear what I’m saying. I’m safe with you. I’m alive with you. In here.” I take his hand and press it over my heart. “Whoever is out there that wants to hurt us? Fuck them. We’re stronger together.”

  For a moment, silence lingers. I feel my pulse pounding in my throat—and also between my legs. My words were true, but they also turned me on. My nipples are tight, and I can’t deny that I want him to take me again. No, to use me again. Wild. Rough. Dangerous. I want it all. I want to feel. Flying down a canyon road in Shelby at a hundred-plus? That’s nothing compared to where I want Devlin to take me right now.

  And yet he’s not saying anything, just looking at me with the kind of heat that hints at danger. That suggests he wants to devour me. So help me, I want to be devoured.

  I almost whimper, and I want so desperately to reach between my legs and get myself off. This is so fucked up, and right now I don’t even know if it’s only me or if he feels it too. But oh, please God, I hope he does.

  There must be a potency to my desire, because I see a corresponding need building in his eyes. “Tell me,” he says. The room’s dim light barely illuminates the scar that bisects his eye and cuts over that perfectly chiseled cheek. The effect is heat and danger, and oh, dear Lord, I am so turned on I’m practically vibrating. “You get nothing until you tell me what you want.”

  My pulse pounds in response to the demand in both his words and his tone. “Use me,” I say.

  That sexy brow rises. “I thought you told me that I already did that.”

  I lick my lips. “I want more.”

  “You want my mouth. My cock.”

  “Yes.”

  He traces a finger over my bare breast. “Rough?”

  My pussy clenches and my mouth is dry. “Yes.”

  He rolls my nipple between with two fingers, then tightens it to a hard pinch that I feel all the way to my clit. “Intense?”

  I nod, my body arched and my breath ragged. “God, yes.”

  “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

  “With you, always.” Where Devlin is concerned I’m the greediest woman on the planet.

  Without warning, he uses his grip on my nipple to pull me toward him. I cry out in surprise and from the hint of pain that only heightens the pleasure. My body is throbbing, my skin sizzling with electricity. I’m so turned on that I’m certain I’ll explode from even the slightest touch, then break apart all over again and again and again, tossed around on this sea of pleasure that the intense demand of his touch is pounding through me.

  He bends forward, then teases my ear with the tip of his tongue. “You tell me rough. You tell me intense. But who says you get to ask for anything?”

  I almost explode right then, even more when he senses my reaction and reaches down to cup my pussy. “No,” he says. “Your orgasm belongs to me, baby. You have to earn it.”

  I swallow, then nod, lightheaded from this game we’re playing. Or maybe it’s not a game. Maybe it’s just us. I only know that Devlin rarely denies me, and the fact that he’s doing exactly that is so fucking erotic that I’m practically melting. There’s an unfamiliar edge to him. An intensity that seems reflected in those green eyes that that never belonged to Alex and in the scar that defines the powerful, dangerous man my teenage love grew into.

  Dangerous.

  The word bursts into my head, coloring my emotions. He’s the danger I’ve been courting all my life. The knife-edge I’ve sought on every fast turn, every random fuck. I’ve always known it, but I’m seeing it so clearly now. I’ve been chasing danger my whole life, not just because of my guilt for being alive, but because, dammit, I’ve been chasing him.

  “Tell me,” he says. “Tel
l me what you’re thinking.”

  “I want you,” I tell him, my voice raw. “I want what you are.”

  “And what am I?”

  I swallow. “A dangerous man.”

  He barely reacts. Just the slightest widening of his eyes. I might not have noticed if I didn’t know him so well. But what I don’t know is if he expected that answer, or if I took him by surprise. All I know is the way my heart races when he wraps his large hand around both my wrists and pulls me close, the angle of my body odd enough to be painful.

  I wince a bit, but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he whispers, “I’m incredibly dangerous. Does that turn you on?” His fingers slip between my thighs and he makes a low noise in his throat. “Oh, yeah, baby. It damn sure does.”

  He shifts us, pushing me forward so that I have to work to untangle my arms in time to keep myself from falling forward. “On your elbows,” he says, and I put my arms down on the silk lining of his jacket as he kneels behind me, his hands cupping my ass. He bends over me, the material of his shirt and slacks brushing sensually over my bare skin.

  He sweeps my hair aside, and his lips tease the back of my neck. He trails kisses down my spine, stopping at the indentation above my ass. He pulls back, then gently spreads my butt cheeks, and I whimper as he teases me with a fingertip pressed against that tight knot of muscles. “I’m going to fuck you here someday,” he says, the words sending sweet tremors through me simply from the promise. “Have you ever been?”

  I shake my head. “No men.”

  “No men?” he repeats, his voice rising with the question.

  Ridiculously, I blush. “You know. Toys.”

  He makes a rough noise in the back of his throat, then bends over me, the pressure of his finger against my ass increasing as he whispers, “Why?”

  I repeat the word, not understanding the question.

  “You must like it if you used toys. So why not men, when you and I both know there must have been scores who were willing? Most likely wanting.”

  I wince a little at the reference to those years when I fucked for the thrill of walking that ledge, of surviving for another day despite all my bad choices, so that I could wake in the morning and tell Fate to go fuck herself.