Page 34 of Filthy Devil

I don’t ask him about his daughter-in-law, even though that’s exactly what I want to do. I want to know everything about him. I want him to know everything about me, even if there isn’t much for me to tell. I’m not exciting in any way whatsoever.

Abandoning my plastic bags that are full of all my worldly possessions, I move toward him. He holds out one of his hands of coffee. “Didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you what the girl behind the counter suggested.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask.

I don’t tell him that what he’s done is probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard in my whole life. Lifting the cup to my lips, I let the aroma fill my nose, and I almost moan. It smells like absolute heaven.

“They said it’s a cookie butter latte, whatever the fuck that is. She also suggested almond milk, something about making it taste sweeter. I have no goddamn clue. I drink my coffee black.”

Of course, he drinks his coffee black. He probably chews on the grounds, too, for an extra boost. I take a sip and moan as my eyes slide closed. Because it might smell amazing, but it tastes heavenly. Slowly, I open my eyes again and give him a smile. It’s cozy and warm because that’s how this amazing drink makes me feel.

“Do you want to try it?” I ask.

He nods his head once, his eyes focused on me as they darken. “Yeah, sweetheart, I do.”

I hold out the coffee, and he plucks it from my hand and then places the muffins and both coffee cups on the kitchen counter before he closes the short distance between us. My breath hitches as he lifts his hands, cups my cheeks, and then his mouth is on mine.

Nash’s tongue invades my mouth, albeit a welcome invasion, and I open for him. His fingers grip my waist, and all thoughts of coffee and muffins vanish from the forefront of my brain. There is only him. And me—us.

My center is sore, but it aches for him again. I can’t get enough of this man, of the way he makes me feel—inside and out. I’ve never felt so beautiful, so desired, and so precious. Ican’t even explain why, but that is how he makes me feel. I don’t know if it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but I hope it’s not. I hope this is going to last—forever.

Breaking the kiss, he lifts his head, his eyes dancing as he looks into mine. “You’re right. That coffee is fuckin’ great.”

Staring at him, completely and totally dazed, I have to think about his words, focus on them, because I forgot what he is talking about. Oh, my coffee, the heavenly one. I slide my tongue over my bottom lip, and my mouth curves up into a smile.

“Now, let’s eat these muffins before I eat you.”

Oh. My. God.

My thighs clench, and I decide I’m no longer hungry for food. I want him to eat me. Right this minute. To hell with the food. Biting the inside of my cheek, I resist all the urges inside of me to climb him like a tree and straddle his face.

“Sweetheart,” Nash rasps. His nostrils flare, and his gaze searches mine before he speaks. “You keep looking at me like that, and we’ll never get you moved out of here.”

I’ll stay forever if it means I’ll have him, all of him, all of the time because that’s what I want. This man, his smile, his eyes, his hands, his mouth, and most definitely his dick at my beck and call.

“You make that sound like a bad thing. Do we have to leave right this minute?” I ask.

His lips twitch into a smirk, and he shakes his head as if he finds me cute or something. I hope he does, forever. I like this, the little banter we have. The soft push and pull. The tenderness.

Because to me, he is just that. So damn tender. I want to keep him just like this, away from the world—just him and me. Reaching out, I slide my nails through the hair on his cheek, loving the way it feels.

Nash’s fingers curl around my wrist. “Not a fuckin’ teenager anymore, sweetheart. Give me a minute to recuperate. Let’sget you settled in, and then we’ll christen your room at the clubhouse.”

That idea sends a zing throughout my whole body, then settles in a warm, ooey-gooey ball at the bottom of my belly. “Okay,” I exhale.

Nash leans forward, and his lips touch mine in a gentle brush. Then he reaches toward the table, picks up the coffee, and hands it to me before he opens the bag and tears it in half, making a placemat of sorts.

The sight that greets me isn’t just a muffin. It’s a masterpiece. I’ve never seen anything so out-of-this-world gorgeous. I’m not even sure what kind of muffin it is, but it’s got a sugary crumble covering the top, along with a drizzle of some kind of frosting.

“Lemon,” Nash announces.

Lifting my head, I arch a brow. “Lemon?”

“The flavor. A lemon crumble or some shit. Gluten-free and looked the best.”

Reaching for one of the muffins, I take a pinch and bring it to my lips. The scent is beyond heavenly. I can smell the lemon instantly. And when it touches my tongue, my god… It’s the perfect mixture of tart and sweet wrapped up in one heavenly treat.

I don’t know what’s better, the coffee or the muffin.

---