Page 25 of The Devil's Secret

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, low and husky. “I still have to make it up to you. And I’m damn good at that.”

“Oh, really? And how will you manage it?” A smile creeps to my mouth.

His eyes delve into mine, my insides humming with a beat of arousal from the way his gaze grips the very essence of me. I’m drowning in the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, lost to the fall, never wanting to be found.

“I could start with this…” His mouth lowers to my lips, hovering over them, breath to breath. Like he’s drinking me in, savoring me, without actually doing it. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever felt. I tingle all over.

I need this kiss. I want it like I’ve never wanted anything before. My heartbeats pound in my chest, his thick fingers massaging my hip.

Make me feel it. Make me feel something again.

“Shit,” he mutters. “If I kiss you now, I won’t stop.”

Don’t stop, I want to scream. Take me. Have me. Fuck the consequences.

But I regret even thinking those thoughts. What kind of mother am I? He’s right. We can’t do this. Being alone with him under the pretense of a lie is bad enough. Anything more and they’re bound to find out. My body is their paycheck, their property. I don’t belong to myself.

“It’s fine,” I say, walking away, and he lets me go. I move toward the stripper pole at the opposite corner of the room. “It’s for the best.”

“Joelle…” There’s regret tethered there. “I’m sorry, it’s only because I—”

“Look, Enzo, Patrick, whoever you are, it doesn’t matter, okay?” I grin, the façade like bulletproof armor. Except it’s not. It’s fragile, no matter how strong I think it is. “How about we just sit and talk,” I continue, clearing my throat. “Maybe you’ll even want that dance after all? Or maybe…” I grip my hand around the pole and swing, lifting my feet into the air. “Maybe you’ll want more.”

He moves so quickly, so expertly, I don’t even have a moment to inhale when the span of his large palm wraps around the front of my neck, his thumb pressing against my weighty pulse as his eyes hold mine like two missiles pinning me into place.

My body practically liquefies, my breathing ragged as my tongue swipes in between my lips, unable to look away.

He pushes my back into the pole with the hardness of his chest, my spine lining up against the cold metal.

My skin breaks with a shudder and it’s not from the chill to my skin. It’s him. This madness. This fury he creates within my heart. A whirlpool of emotions, and all I want is more.

His chest expands like that of a beast, his jaw flexing, ready to devour me, the lust, the need for the taste of darkness absorbing the emeralds of his eyes.

It’s as though he’s shrouded in both heaven and hell, a man split in between two worlds. In this moment, it’s easy to see both sides of him. But I’m not afraid. Neither man would harm me.

His touch, it’s filled with possession, a man torn. Wanton. It’s there in his gaze. I can practically taste how badly he wants me. I want him too. I want this. But he’s right, we can’t.

We’re souls lost to a world filled with the ashes of our future. Not meant to be. Not in this lifetime.

“Don’t act like that with me,” he warns, tightening his palm around my throat enough to make my core hum for more. “I’m not them. I’m not here for your pussy, Joelle. I thought we already established that.” He leans into my neck, his lips ghosting up my skin.

A trembling pant slips out of me, my hands on his back, nails sinking into the hardened muscles that flex beneath my touch.

“No games, Joelle.” His voice pulses with a sultry rhythm. “I don’t want who you pretend to be. I want you. The real you.”

I let my fingertips skirt up his back, rolling up into his hair.

“You can trust me, baby,” he breathes. “I’ll never hurt you.”

His lips leave a tender kiss at that spot right under my earlobe and my body breaks out with a tantalizing shiver, my nipples hardening under the thickness of my black sequin bra.

I don’t know how to respond. I can’t tell him the truth. There’s no way I could trust anyone with my secrets.

“Baby?” he calls, backing away, his thumbs now at my cheeks, wiping under my eyes.

Was I crying? God, I can’t even keep it together.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks, his brows drawing tight, concern filling the tenderness written all over his face.

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