Page 189 of Devil Mine

The slow smirk that pulls at his mouth sends a delicious shiver rippling through my body. “I’ll just have to discover it for myself then, won’t I?”

The interest in his eyes is misplaced and unwelcome. At least that’s what I try to communicate to my body when deep arousal wakes and coils hotly in my core in reaction to the matching dimples that appear on either one of his cheeks.

I pocket the card and leave, noting with dispassionate interest that my heart is beating faster than before. Awareness crawls up my back in response to the stare I feel burning ardently into my ass as I walk away.

Thiago meets me outside the waiting room and we walk together to the second floor where all post-op patients are housed until they move out of critical care.

The blinds are pulled up when we get to her room. Thiago’s gaze moves through the window to where Tess lies intubated in a large bed. She looks small in the bed surrounded by all those machines.

Chaos swirls in his eyes as he stares at her. He lifts a hand to the glass, resting his palm against the window and I swear, I can hear his fluttering heartbeat from here.

His voice is rough as gravel when he speaks.

“Can I touch her?”

I’m about to say no but then I think about what I’d want if the roles were reversed. If I loved someone that much, no one could stop me from touching them.

I nod slowly. “Just be careful not to jostle her or move her body in any way. And if anyone asks, I said that you absolutely could not touch her. No way in hell, in fact.”

A smile touches his lips. He’s moving and pushing the door open before I speak again.

“Mr. da Silva–.”

“Thiago,” he corrects, looking. over his shoulder at me.

“Thiago.” I lift my eyes up to his. “There's one more thing you should know before you go in there.”

???

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Tess

The first thing I see when my eyes open is a white ceiling.

I don’t know why, but I guess I didn’t expect the afterlife to have ceilings. And if it did, I certainly didn’t expect them to be white. Feels a little cliché.

Plus, I was married to the devil before I died so I assumed that my stay in the afterlife would feature more of the promised fire and brimstone than these spa-like white walls.

It’s only after all those thoughts flit through my mind that I realize I can’t speak because there’s something in my throat. My lips also appear to be at least partially taped. It hurts to breathe and there’s a throbbing ache in my ribs and abdomen.

My gaze slides from the ceiling, down the equally white walls and to some nondescript furniture.

I frown.

Where am I?

Looking down as much as I can without being able to move my head, I see a tube coming out of my mouth. I’m laying in a bed with ugly, pale green bedding. Noises filter through, the steady beeping of medical machinery, and I realize I’m in a hospital.

My eyes flutter close in relief.

I didn’t die.

They fly open in a panic when I think about Thiago. Where is he? Is he okay? Is he safe?

Movement pulls my attention to the right. A doctor stands there, beaming down at me. It takes me a second to place her, but I soon recognize her from when I’d visited my mum.

“Welcome back.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it comfortingly, giving me a brilliant smile. “Your husband is going to besopissed you woke up when he wasn’t here.” She must read the question flaring in my eyes because she adds, “He’s fine. He hasn’t left your side for a single second in the last two days, he’s even been sleeping in that chair. I finally convinced him to go shower and get changed so he’s going to kick my ass when he comes back and sees you’re awake,” she says with a laugh. “Why don’t we remove the intubation so you can talk to him when he’s back?”

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