The Devil (BOOK I + II)

12 | "No Shit, Sherlock"

Chapter Twelve
   "No Shit, Sherlock"

"what does the brain matter
compared with the heart?"
— virginia woolf

┏━━━━━━━┓

   I've learned my purpose in life.

   Well, kinda.

   But I'd like to be responsible in getting people addicted to How To Get Away With Murder. Which was exactly what I happened to do to Daemon, after my lapse in judgment concluded.

   For the first few minutes after Daemon successfully gave me an orgasm women dreamed about, I was bored of the awkwardness and pointed to the bulge in his pants, offering to take care of it.

   He refused and went to the bathroom instead, which surprised me, but I didn't question it further.

   By the time he exited the bathroom, I was already standing in the kitchen. "What are you doing today?" He asked, leaning against the closed bathroom door.

   "Today? Besides unpacking, not much. Maybe I'll contemplate reality."

   His lip quirked at that, and I couldn't stop staring at him. The is the most relaxed I'd seen Daemon. Maybe because his usually ironed clothes were now crinkled, and his tattoos were still out for me to see.

   Daemon with rolled up sleeves was the best Daemon.

   "I'll contemplate with you," he drawled, pushing himself off the door before taking almost predatory steps toward me.

   My lower back pressed against the counter, and I gripped the ledge while watching him stop in front of me. "Why? You have nowhere to run off to today? Colour me surprised."

   He ignored my sarcasm. "Nowhere important," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to my mouth—which instantly parted on command.

   His eyes darkened and I forced back my shiver. "Well then. I guess you could join me." A slow but wide smirk began to spread my lips wide. "But you're gonna have to do something your people-hating self won't like."

   "Like what?" His brow quirked.

   I grinned. "Watch a show about other people."

   To say it took time persuading him to watch TV was an understatement. Apparently the man didn't watch anything—movies and shows combined. But alas, I managed to get him on the couch, where we then began to binge-watch the entire first season of How To Get Away With Murder.

   We ordered lunch and dinner on Uber Eats, and for the rest of the day, I was thoroughly surprised at the different side of Daemon I was seeing.

   Around midnight or so, I felt myself being lifted and carried off the couch, before softly landing on my mattress. I vaguely remembered gripping the sleeve of Daemon's shirt, but that was all I could recall until darkness settled in my thoughts.

   I knew it was the morning when I fluttered my eyes open, hours later, seeing the sunlight filling my apartment. But I hadn't been facing the windows.

   I was still in the clothes I wore last night, but I'd been tucked in, under the covers. And on top of my queen size bed, facing me, was Daemon.

   His eyes were closed, and he fell asleep on top of my comforter. His shoes were kicked off, near the kitchen from what I could tell, but he was still wearing his dress pants and black button up shirt. His legs were spread, arms flat on either side of him. But his head was turned toward me.