Page 95 of A Deal with the Bossy Devil

“You can touch me if you want,” he murmured softly. “I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on. Until you tell me to.”

From now on, like I wasn’t leaving after this.Until you tell me to, like it was inevitable.

I should have rolled my eyes at him, but instead, I found my right fist unfurling, hesitating, then sliding out of my pocket.

Just to hold him in place, I told myself.Or to push him away when I inevitably want to.

So why did the tips of my fingers reach for his face instead? Why did they trace over his sharp eyebrow, cheekbone, jaw, his parted lips? Why did my chest flutter when his breath hitched in response?

I watched as his eyelids drooped, his focus grew hazy, and his breathing picked up. He cursed under his breath when my featherlight touch moved down the line of his throat, and I could feel the frantic flutter of his pulse.

It was fucking intoxicating.

Distracting.

“Sanchez…”

“Mmm?”

“Remember your little experiment?”

“Mmm.”

“You should probably conduct it now.”

“This is part of it,” I decided. My fingers moved back up the column of his throat and over the full length of his jaw. His muscles were taught, and his throat kept working with one rough swallow after another.

I wondered how it would feel to touch his entire body like this. How he would react if I ran my teasing fingers all the way down his naked chest, his abs, his thighs. What would he do if I lazily traced the length of his cock—

My hand froze. My eyes flared. My brain halted.

Excuse me? You wonderwhatnow?

My eyes snapped to his.

What the hell just happened?

You just wondered what it would be like to tease Adrien Cloutier’s cock, you kinky little perv! That’s what!

“Is torturing me a part of it, too?” Adrien chided quietly.

I didn’t answer him. I tried to, but the comeback stuck itself at the base of my throat and refused to come out. When was the last time I’d… I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thought about…

Huh.

“Sanchez, kiss me before I—”

I didn’t give him a chance to finish.

24

Three unsexy Mississippishad been the plan.

I was supposed to touch his mouth with my mouth for three boring, awkward, and unsexy Mississippis, prove to myself that this morning had been a fluke brought on by (literally) raging hormones, and peace the hell out of Adrien Cloutier’s life forever.

The exact opposite of that happened, and it was all his fault.

I mean, how were his lips so unrealistically soft? Did he moisturize them twenty-four times a day? And how much electricity did his body produce, exactly? Was he a scientific marvel on top of everything else? Because there was a concerning amount of zips and zaps shuddering through my body and… how exactly…

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