Live For Me (Blurred Lines #2)(24)
Author: Erin McCarthy

I felt my jaw drop. “For real?” I couldn’t believe he was going to pull that employer crap with me. Why did he care if I went to Cat’s?

“For real,” he said, sounding petulant. “I want you with me.”

My cheeks grew warm and I went very still, butt resting against his desk, legs near his arm. He wanted my company. He could do anything and anyone frankly and yet he wanted to stay there at Richfield with me. It meant more than it should. “You do?”

Because I wanted to hear him say it again. Because I needed to hear him say it again.

“Yes, I do. I desire you… to be with me.” Devin reached out and took my hand, stroking my fingers with his. “I got you a present, you know.”

Did that mean he was capitulating? Was he giving in to the chemistry between us, finally? I would stay if that were the case. “Oh. I guess I should stay then,” I said. I couldn’t say no to him. Or to a present. Or to any indication that he had abandoned the ridiculous notion that I was too young for him. That he might realize I was important to him, as more than a friend. “I didn’t get you a present.” I gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t really know how to give presents.”

I didn’t. I hadn’t since I was a kid and I’d made a potholder at school for my grandmother and she had scoffed at it. That rejection had stung more than any of the smacks, the swats, the screaming. It had been cruel and I wasn’t sure that I knew how to be vulnerable enough to give a present anymore.

But then again, I was nothing if not vulnerable with Devin. I basically had ripped my beating heart out of my chest and handed it to him. While allowing him to pretend that we were just friends, him my boss.

“You don’t need to get me a present. I have everything I want. You could bake me something though and I wouldn’t complain.”

That made me relax. “I could do that.” Him and his sweet tooth. It was a good thing he could afford stellar dental care.

But I’d turn his kitchen into a goddamn bakery if it got him to cross the line he’d drawn so carefully between us.

He went from stroking my fingers to lacing them through mine so we were actually holding hands. “You don’t mind staying here, do you?” he asked. He had sat back in the chair, and his legs were open. I wanted to wedge myself between his knees and climb onto his lap.

“I don’t mind.” I also didn’t mind how freely he touched me.

“Good. Listen to this song I’m working on. I created it with you in mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to capture you. If you were a sound this is how I hear you. Light and innocent and dark and gripping all at the same time.”

He’d written a song for me? That was seriously hot. Seriously sweet. Seriously romantic. Or maybe it was akin to being inspired by your family dog or by a bus accident or crawling spiders. It could mean anything.

But that was a lie I told myself for protection. I knew what it meant. I knew that he had feelings for me. When you spend your whole life never having anyone give you that look, you damn well recognize it when it’s shown to you. He cared for me. He knew it. He just wasn’t willing to say it in those words.

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or what,” I said. “I’m both light and dark?”

“Not dark in an evil way, but mysterious. With depth.” He brought our hands still clasped up and tapped his knuckle on my head. “No one really knows what’s going on in there, do they? It’s a secret garden. That’s the title of the song- ‘Her Secret Garden.’”

I heard both the compliment and the sexual innuendo loud and clear. God, I wanted this to finally be it… when he wrestled his doubts into submission. My doubts had evaporated.

There was nothing but me between the desk and Devin, me open and unable to hide my emotions. The things he said weren’t stupid pick-up lines. He wasn’t obvious and crass or anything that I could dislike or dismiss. His flattery was like ivy, it crept around the edges of my defenses, wrapped them, and overcame them. He smothered me with a commanding kindness. It wasn’t always nice, it was sometimes selfish, but it was honest.

My wall had been forced down, gradually and ironically, while he was struggling to build his higher. Maybe that was why. Because I knew he wasn’t trying to get in my pants, or use me and toss me aside, or have me fall for him as a pure ego stroke the way a guy in high school had. While he fought his feelings, I was able to slowly and quietly embrace mine.

“I guess that’s better than ‘Damp Basement,’” I said. I meant it as a joke. Though as usual my delivery was dry.

But Devin shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t undermine yourself. Please. Even if you’re kidding.”

I swallowed hard.

He stood without warning, filling the space immediately in front of me, a hard masculine wall rising before me. I looked up at him in question, wondering if I should pull my hand away from his. Not wanting to.

“I keep trying to find flaws in you,” he said. “I’ve been working really hard at it because it’s really, really inappropriate for me to find you attractive. But I do. Does that make me a f**king pervert or what? You’re too young.”

He sounded anguished.

“Devin. Stop. You said yourself there is nothing young about me.” I shook my head, overwhelmed by how much I wanted him to kiss me. “I’m an old soul. I’m no carefree teenager. I may not have world experience, but I’m not innocent. And I find you attractive too.”

I wasn’t sure where the courage to say it out loud came from, but I figured it wasn’t exactly a mystery. Anyone would be able to see that I hot for him. It was more than that. I was falling in love with him. I wasn’t uncomfortable with our age difference. A guy my own age was never going to appeal to me with his stupid bragging and potty humor and fascination with random br**sts. Those guys would never impress me or hold my attention. So the age difference definitely wasn’t what bothered me about Devin.

If there was anything that gave me pause, made me uncomfortable, it was his wealth that did, his lifestyle. He came from a different world entirely from me, and here, hidden away at Richfield, he might want me on some level. In the real world? He wouldn’t. I knew that.

Or he might want, but he wouldn’t act on it. Not with prying eyes and nosy media and online bloggers and trolls ready to eviscerate anyone who did anything they could take a jab at. If Devin busted me out in public, he would be thrust into the limelight in a way he would despise. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe no one would give two shits what a rich guy did with a girl who was legally of age. I guess it depended on whether or not Devin wanted to take that risk. Any risk. For me.