Read Online Downtown Devil: Book 2 in series (Sins in the City) by Cara McKenna - Free Book Online
Authors: Cara McKenna
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figured it out.”
“Guess so.” Though it still nagged at Clare, just a little, taking a tiny measure of the glow off the moment. She couldn’t say she understood precisely how best-friendships worked between guys, but she knew she’d be annoyed with Bree if she’d driven her to a party and then the girl had gone AWOL.
It’s different with women. We worry about each other.
With that, she set the uneasy feeling aside, focusing instead on the noises moving through the apartment—keys being set on a counter or table, water running, footsteps coming down the hall.
No voices.
It seemed Vaughn hadn’t had Mica’s luck tonight. Though for all she knew he had a girlfriend, or maybe he wasn’t the one-night-stand type. He seemed to approach things with maturity and thoughtfulness, a touch of reserve.
Though you never could tell for sure.
After all, I wasn’t the one-night-stand type until an hour ago.
She had little doubt that that’s what this would be. Hand-holding and placid spooning aside, this didn’t feel like a blossoming romance. Mica didn’t feel like a
suitor
—he felt vaguely like a predator, in fact, sleek and beautiful and calculating, and at the end of it all, she was only too happy to have let him catch and devour her. He was the perfect antidote to the doldrums her last relationship had left her in. If she only got the one dose, so be it.
No matter how things felt when they parted in the morning, no matter if she never saw him again, she’d remember this night fondly for a very, very long time.
CHAPTER FOUR
C lare woke as the sun lit the blinds behind her, confused.
She blinked, contacts sticky in her eyes. Red sheets stirred her sluggish memory. The plain white walls and the subtle scents of this strange room.
Mica.
She rolled over, finding herself alone in his bed.
She could hear a tap running not far away, then faint raps, as though someone were knocking the water from their toothbrush.
But which of them is it?
Mica or Vaughn?
Both options gave her nerves a jolt—she didn’t know either man well enough to guess how welcome she might be here, and for how long.
She’d play it cool, she decided, get her shit together efficiently, use the bathroom and steal a glass of water, then excuse herself. If someone offered a cup of coffee, she’d accept it, but not dawdle.
The thing was . . . last night had been the single hottest experience of her life.
No matter what she’d told herself as she’d fallen asleep, she wanted it to happen again. It felt crucial that she stick the landing this morning—be respectful that it was their space, their daily routinesshe was waking in, and not linger too long. Be friendly and sane and flirt a little with Mica if it felt natural, make her interest known, but not look too clingy, too eager.
She sat up and gave her pillow-flattened curls a finger-combing, found her bra on the floor next to the bed. Her panties took far longer to locate, buried deep in the covers, but she tugged those on as well. They weren’t exactly fresh feeling, but it beat going commando in a skirt on a brisk day. She’d just found her top when a door creaked in the distance and footsteps sounded in the hall.
Instantly her jitters kicked into high gear, any plans to play it cool leaping out the window. The steps faded, heading toward the kitchen, and she supposed she had little choice but to bite the bullet and find out for herself who was prowling.
A glance at her phone told her it was just after eight. Crazy she’d slept through the night and well past her usual wake-up time, but then again, sex was one powerful sedative. She opened the door and headed down the hall.
The TV or a radio was playing in the living room, the soft drone of the morning news. She used the bathroom, then took a deep breath and made for the kitchen.
Vaughn was at the table, his back to her, his attention on his phone, she thought, his arm moving subtly as though he was scrolling.
She knocked on
“Guess so.” Though it still nagged at Clare, just a little, taking a tiny measure of the glow off the moment. She couldn’t say she understood precisely how best-friendships worked between guys, but she knew she’d be annoyed with Bree if she’d driven her to a party and then the girl had gone AWOL.
It’s different with women. We worry about each other.
With that, she set the uneasy feeling aside, focusing instead on the noises moving through the apartment—keys being set on a counter or table, water running, footsteps coming down the hall.
No voices.
It seemed Vaughn hadn’t had Mica’s luck tonight. Though for all she knew he had a girlfriend, or maybe he wasn’t the one-night-stand type. He seemed to approach things with maturity and thoughtfulness, a touch of reserve.
Though you never could tell for sure.
After all, I wasn’t the one-night-stand type until an hour ago.
She had little doubt that that’s what this would be. Hand-holding and placid spooning aside, this didn’t feel like a blossoming romance. Mica didn’t feel like a
suitor
—he felt vaguely like a predator, in fact, sleek and beautiful and calculating, and at the end of it all, she was only too happy to have let him catch and devour her. He was the perfect antidote to the doldrums her last relationship had left her in. If she only got the one dose, so be it.
No matter how things felt when they parted in the morning, no matter if she never saw him again, she’d remember this night fondly for a very, very long time.
CHAPTER FOUR
C lare woke as the sun lit the blinds behind her, confused.
She blinked, contacts sticky in her eyes. Red sheets stirred her sluggish memory. The plain white walls and the subtle scents of this strange room.
Mica.
She rolled over, finding herself alone in his bed.
She could hear a tap running not far away, then faint raps, as though someone were knocking the water from their toothbrush.
But which of them is it?
Mica or Vaughn?
Both options gave her nerves a jolt—she didn’t know either man well enough to guess how welcome she might be here, and for how long.
She’d play it cool, she decided, get her shit together efficiently, use the bathroom and steal a glass of water, then excuse herself. If someone offered a cup of coffee, she’d accept it, but not dawdle.
The thing was . . . last night had been the single hottest experience of her life.
No matter what she’d told herself as she’d fallen asleep, she wanted it to happen again. It felt crucial that she stick the landing this morning—be respectful that it was their space, their daily routinesshe was waking in, and not linger too long. Be friendly and sane and flirt a little with Mica if it felt natural, make her interest known, but not look too clingy, too eager.
She sat up and gave her pillow-flattened curls a finger-combing, found her bra on the floor next to the bed. Her panties took far longer to locate, buried deep in the covers, but she tugged those on as well. They weren’t exactly fresh feeling, but it beat going commando in a skirt on a brisk day. She’d just found her top when a door creaked in the distance and footsteps sounded in the hall.
Instantly her jitters kicked into high gear, any plans to play it cool leaping out the window. The steps faded, heading toward the kitchen, and she supposed she had little choice but to bite the bullet and find out for herself who was prowling.
A glance at her phone told her it was just after eight. Crazy she’d slept through the night and well past her usual wake-up time, but then again, sex was one powerful sedative. She opened the door and headed down the hall.
The TV or a radio was playing in the living room, the soft drone of the morning news. She used the bathroom, then took a deep breath and made for the kitchen.
Vaughn was at the table, his back to her, his attention on his phone, she thought, his arm moving subtly as though he was scrolling.
She knocked on
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