Devil's Plaything (Playthings, #1) by Lydia Rowan

trust, rely on, is myself.”
    D’yavol didn’t respond. Instead he put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence, this time tense and fraught as opposed to easy and companionable. She wouldn’t even look in his direction, staring out of the window, her empty expression giving away nothing.
    “Wait, you missed the turn. My house is in the other direction.”
    “I know where I’m going, Julie,” he said, and she looked over at him but didn’t speak.
    Fifteen minutes passed, and they drove through the residential district and into the more industrial area of town. He circled the abandoned-looking warehouse twice and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, pulled into the loading dock.
    “Welcome to my home.”
    Suspicion warred with curiosity in her gaze, and he could identify the exact moment that curiosity won. She grabbed the handle and opened her door, looking around the loading dock with a wary expression. It was petty, but he was happy to have caught her off guard, thrown her for a loop the same way she seemed to throw him without even trying. She walked around the space, gaze darting here and there before she climbed the four steps to the top of loading dock and looked back at him as if to say, Come on, already .
    Unexpectedly, he felt his cock thicken. This Julie, cautious yet brave, reminded him of all the times they’d made love, her, deceptively strong, yet so gentle, the contradiction driving him to distraction. Given the tension of their conversation during the ride over, he didn’t think she’d appreciate him tossing her over his shoulder and rushing her to his bed, though he really, really wanted to, so he waited a few moments to calm himself before getting out of the car. As he loped up the stairs, he waved a hand across the fingerprint scanner and watched as she jumped back when the rolling metal door began its ascent. Seemingly unconsciously, she reached for his hand as they waited for the door to fully open, and as always, he felt a little trill of electricity at the contact.
    When the door finally opened, he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her into his living room, watching as she took in the space. Most inconveniently, her face still didn’t betray anything, and he tried to see the place through her eyes, imagine her reaction. The place was large, a couple thousand square feet, with high loft ceilings and wood floors. He had a table and two chairs, a long, low couch set opposite a large-screen TV, a bookcase, an open kitchen with high-end appliances Demon had ordered, and a platform bed set off in a corner. Otherwise, the place was sparse, almost monastic, especially when he compared it with Julie’s. This was a place to sleep, but Julie had a home.
    “Thank you for inviting me.”
    “What do you think?” he asked, his curiosity flaring.
    “It fits you,” she said on a laugh, the sound music to his ears. “No frills but elegant. Everything one could need and not a thing more.”
    Drawn to her, always drawn to her, he walked until he reached her, came to a stop behind her, and put his arms around her waist, resting a hand on her belly.
    “I’d take care of you.” He pressed down gently for emphasis. “Both of you.”
    She pulled out of his embrace and walked over to his bookshelf, suddenly fascinated by whatever was there.
    “I think you’d want to,” she said without looking at him. “Maybe you’d even intend to.” She fiddled with a couple of rocks he had set on top of the shelf.
    “But it doesn’t matter,” she said brightly, looking over at him with a falsely exuberant smile. “I’m protected, and we’ll be more careful.”
    Damn it, he didn’t want to be more careful, and he certainly didn’t want to know that Julie didn’t trust him. The words of argument formed on his lips, but Julie’s expression made it clear the topic was no longer up for discussion. Still, he wanted to convince her, but before he could speak, she said,