Devlin's Dare by Sabrina York Page A

Before she escaped. Hopefully, not with his jeans. He dipped his head and kissed her, loving the taste of her on his tongue.
    But again, she shifted. Pulled away. “We should get back.”
    Annoyance slithered through him. “Why?”
    She wriggled from his embrace and found her bra. He hated watching her put it on. “Holt.”
    He shot up and frowned at her. Jealousy skewered his gut. “Holt?” She was thinking of another man? After that ?
    She chuckled at his dismay, which was irritating as hell. “He’ll be wondering where I am.”
    Devlin couldn’t hold back his snarl. “Are you and he…”
    Her chuckle became a full bodied laugh. “No. Nothing like that.” She found her shirt and slipped it on. And her panties. Realizing he was falling behind, he rooted around in the blankets for his underwear. “Bella would kill me if I looked at him sideways. Besides, he’s always been like a brother to me.”
    Devlin gritted his teeth. He knew guys like Holt Lamm. Brother was not in their vocabulary. Not when it came to women like Ponytail. But he didn’t want to fight about it. Didn’t want to fight about anything.  So, grudgingly he yanked on his shirt. She picked up his jeans and he gently pried them from her grip. “Not this time, sweetheart,” he murmured as he tugged them on.
    She smiled.
    He loved her smile. Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms. “I don’t want this to be over,” he said.
    She stared at him. “This?”
    “This thing.”
    “This thing?”
    Was he speaking English?
    “Sweetheart…”
    “We should get back.” She untangled herself from his hold and headed for the door. He followed, but he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. So when she opened the door, he reached over her shoulder and held it shut.
    “When can I see you again?”
    “Devlin.” She turned and gazed up at him with a confabulating expression in her eyes. He’d always been able to read a woman. This, he could not read. Or maybe he didn’t want to read it. Maybe he didn’t like what it said.
    It kind of felt like: It’s over .
    Fuck . He hoped not.
    “Didn’t you enjoy this?” He sure as shit had. It was incomprehensible to imagine she had not. He glanced at the bed, remembering her growls, her moans, the wild response of her body when he’d buried himself deep inside her.
    She tipped her head to the side. “Enjoy it? Of course I did.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
    “Then when can I see you again?”
    A shadow flickered over her features, one that made his gut curdle. “Devlin—” God he hated that tone. “I’m not…in the market for a relationship.”
    He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not proposing marriage.”
    “I know. But these things have a way of…evolving into something more.”
    Something more sounded great. Something more sounded fan-fucking-tabulous. He wanted her…but having her on her terms would work for him. “What if we make a pact?”
    Her brows knit. “What kind of pact?”
    “No relationship.”
    “Just…fuck buddies?”
    Discomfort drizzled through him. “If that’s that you want to call it. Sure.”
    “No emotions? No crazy jealousy? No stalking?”
    He forced a laugh. “What kinds of guys have you been dating?”
    She blew out a breath. “You know what I mean. I have a busy life. I don’t have time for…drama.”
    “Drama?” He glanced at the bed again. Had that been drama? Why did women have to be so damn inscrutable?
    “You know. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Demands on my time.”
    Her words rang through him with an eerie familiarity. He knew them well. He’d said them himself. Many times before. He’d been a player most of his adult life, dating girl after girl. Like a horny bee flittering from one flower to the next. He’d never liked drama in a relationship. Never liked when she got jealous or possessive or started checking his cell phone for messages. That was usually when he ended it.
    It had never bothered him