Chapter 12 Chapter 12
Devin found himself by the window watching her. She had her head down, bent over the laptop, that long silky hair hanging down over one shoulder and cradling the other side of her face. She was breath-taking. He hadn’t even made it to the shower before he found his feet carrying to the window to watch her.
Taking a few minutes to speak gave him more information than he had earlier, so he couldn’t be annoyed with her for being on the shore when he’d returned. He now knew, without a doubt, that he affected her just as much as she did him. He could smell her desire, practically taste her pulse when he’d squatted down beside her. It had taken all his control to not lay her down right there and taste her mouth, which is why he’d gotten the hell out of there. His brain had provided too many images when he’d stood there as she knelt before him like a tempting offer.
Shaking his head, Devin sighed and leaned his hip against the windowsill. He needed to know more about her, but the only way to do that would be to get closer, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. He’d gone out onto the lake to think and burn off frustration. Physical exertion usually worked well, he’d know because he’d spent more hours than he could count to work through things in the last several years. Today activity hadn’t done anything to help. He’d gone out and tried to work her right out of his head and for a few seconds he thought it may have worked, and then he saw her on the shore watching. It was as if he didn’t want her out of his head, or space, he just wanted to reach her quickly.
The whole time he’d paddled towards the shore he watched her, observing her every move. The situation stank of obsession, the way he wanted her, couldn’t stop thinking of her. It was crazy to be drawn to someone he’d just met. If it was a result of their being mates, then she should feel it too. Devin needed to know there were other logical reasons, not just some pre-ordained animal instinct. If it weren’t for the fact that she was his mate, would he still want her this way?
He watched her as she stood up and stretched, his body instantly hardened. She was beautiful and graceful, he could admit that. He knew her eyes were soft and alluring, so alluring he practically fell into them. Her hair was softer than silk, her legs, no—he couldn’t think about those for too long. Devin stood there like a lost puppy, rubbing a hand over his stomach—a comfort thing—as he continued to watch her. Yeah, he’d still want her even if she wasn’t his mate he admitted. The problem was he’d only want her sexually he wouldn’t have this whole array of emotions to go with it, or would there?
Devin watched as she took off her shoes and walked to the shore, daintily dipping one foot into the water’s edge before stepping in. The urge to paint her came over him. He straightened away from the window. Obsessed. Shaking his head, he turned quickly, placing the window at his back and headed towards the shower. Anger flooded through him. He didn’t like not being in control, dammit! She was erasing his resolve. Despite wanting to go back to her, he decided some distance for a few days would help bring him clarity.
Stopping when he reached the bathroom, he looked at the strange man in the mirror. The emotional rollercoaster he was riding wasn’t like him. He was cool and non-emotional. He was the lone wolf that didn’t need hand holding and cuddling to bring him peace. He was perfectly fine walking this path of life alone, with solitary tracks. This was just a thing—something that would end as quickly as it began. And he knew that he was so full of it.
Sighing, he leaned down on the counter, and closed his eyes. The words of a friend he’d lost years before rushed into his mind as if he’d been standing beside him. Finding your mate is like losing your god damned mind—until you have her. He looked at his reflection once more. That didn’t make him feel any better.
Devin’s mind didn’t give him a moment’s peace, he didn’t remember taking a shower but still found himself standing in front of the fogged-up mirror dripping wet. There was no peace inside of him—not that there ever really was. Restlessness was what plagued him, but today it was several miles beyond that. He was running out of arguments to keep him anywhere but near her.
How long was this going to last? Did it get better or worse? He was still trying to sort out whether being near her eased the intensity or made it stronger. He had to force himself to stand in the studio and think about work, and not look at the painting of her—he wasn’t succeeding in that area either.