Naughty November

Prologue

PROLOGUE

DEVIN - 6 YEARS LATER

After an enlightening panel on bondage, I leave the conference room and go to the hotel bar. I need a drink to unwind. I sit on a stool, order a beer, and then fiddle with a beer mat as I glance around. The bar is filling up. I recognise a lot of people from the conference I’m attending, but there are other hotel guests here, too.

My stare snags on a man with strawberry blond hair and bright blue eyes. He’s about the same age as me but slimmer. Familiarity tugs at my gut. As if sensing someone is staring at him, he turns his head, and looks right at me. His skin is tanned, which makes the freckles across his cheeks and nose more pronounced than I remember.

“Jools?” I move two stools closer to him.

He widens his eyes. “Devin?”

We lost touch, as people do. At first, we sent a flurry of letters, emails, and cards. Our communications were full of longing and loss but also of making the most of being apart. But gradually, the time between messages increased until they stopped altogether.

He flicks his gaze over me. “You look good.”

“So do you. ”

The boy who stole my heart still takes my breath away.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Amsterdam is a long way from Australia.”

“I’m on my way back to Oz. I’ve flown through Amsterdam tons but have never seen anything beyond the airport, so I decided to make a weekend of it and take a look around. You?”

“I’m here for a conference.”

He tilts his head. “Is it a work thing? That seems a bit off on the weekend.”

I chuckle. “No. Not work. More… play.”

He frowns. “I’m confused.”

I move one stool closer so I’m sitting beside him. “It’s a kink conference.”

“A—? You’re into—?” He blinks. “Wow. A lot’s changed in…” He falters.

“Six years.”

He rubs his finger over the polished bar rail. “I meant to keep in touch.”

The guilt on his face is mirrored in my heart. It’s as much my fault as his that we stopped communicating. “Me too.”

He shifts so his weight is on the edge of the barstool, closer to me. “I missed you.”

“Same.”

“How have you been?” His breath warms my face.

“Good. You?”

He smiles. “Yeah. Good. Are you seeing anyone?”

“Not at the moment. You?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t believe we ran into each other after all this time.”

“I told you we’d see each other again.” I rub the heel of my hand over my thigh. I’m itching to hug him.

“I know, but it’s still crazy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s a happy coincidence.”

A pretty blush warms his skin. “That’s a good way of looking at it.”

“When’s your flight home? ”

“Tomorrow evening. Yours?”

“In the morning.”

He downturns his lips. “We don’t have much time to reconnect.”

“To unpause?” I venture.

He raises his eyebrows a fraction and then nods. “There was so much we didn’t get to do before I left. So much we wanted to do.”

“But were too scared to.”

“Yes. Can we really unpause just like that?”

“If it’s what we both want. Is it what you want, Jools?”

“Yes.” He tilts his head and half closes his eyes. His pale lashes brush against his cheeks.

He’s inviting me to kiss him. I do. I press my mouth to his in a firm but gentle kiss. I brush the tip of my tongue over his lips and he parts them in response. Electricity zips over my skin. The fine hairs on the backs of my arms stand up. Still kissing him, I cup his cheek and adjust my position on the stool so my knees are on either side of his legs.

“Wow.” He sits upright, lips glistening with our saliva. His eyelids are heavy, and his pupils are blown. He’s so damn pretty.

I take my keycard out of my pocket and hold it in front of his eyes. “Do you want to go somewhere more private to reconnect?” Am I being too bold?

“Devin—” He rakes his teeth over his lower lip.

“Yes?”

Is he going to change his mind? Didn’t he feel the same sparks I did?

“We’re going home tomorrow. We’ll be on opposite sides of the world again.”

“I know. But tonight, we can be together. If you want.”

He glances around the bar. “Wouldn’t you rather hook up with one of your kinky friends?”

I stroke his jaw. “No. You’re the only person I want.”

“So—what? We unpause for one night?”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

Will we make an effort to stay in touch again? Will it last ?

I put my keycard in my pocket and gesture to his arm. “May I?” It’s been far too long since I’ve asked him that.

He nods.

I drag my nail over his forearm to draw an isosceles triangle, with the long point facing towards his right. Neither of us moves for the few seconds it takes for his skin to react.

I can recall the moment I discovered he had dermatographia as though it were yesterday rather than years ago. He was worried about a test our science teacher had sprung on us without warning. He rubbed his arms while outpouring his frustration. What if he hadn’t done well? His skin went an alarming shade of red, and then, two or three minutes later, white, puffy welts formed. I thought he’d done himself a serious injury, but he assured me it was nothing and barely hurt before showing me how even the lightest scratch would cause the same reaction.

“Are you sick?”

Jools had cracked up laughing. “No! The doctor said no one knows what causes dermatographia. He said it’s like I have an allergic reaction to minor injuries.”

“Sounds painful.”

“It’s not. Promise. I think it’s kind of cool. Except when I have to sit next to Billy.”

“Why?”

“He draws on my arm and I don’t like it. I’d let you draw on me if you wanted to.”

“Why me?”

“Because it’s you.”

Am I still the only person he’ll let draw on him, or has he met other people he trusts during our years apart? I decide not to ask, instead focusing on him as bright red lines appear on his skin.

“A Play button,” he whispers.

“Tell me you don’t want this, Jools. Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

He catches hold of my hand. “I don’t want you to walk away.”

“What do you want?”

“You. I’ve always wanted you.”