Page 13 of The Devil's Dream

“Nervous, brother?” I smirked, heading to the kitchen and grabbing two beers from the fridge.

He grunted, which was basically a yes in Haze-speak, and accepted the beer I held out.

“She's perfect for us,” I reminded him, leaning against the wall and watching him obsessively polish the same spot. “You've seen how she responds.”

Another grunt, accompanied by a slight twitch of his lips. Yeah, he'd noticed how she melted when I used a commanding voice and how she gravitated toward him when she needed to feel safe.

The way she fit so naturally into our dynamic was a heady feeling—for both of us.

“Slow,” he rumbled, finally setting down the cleaning supplies. “Don't want to scare her.”

I nodded. “Follow her lead. Let her set the pace.”

The next few hours were spent preparing dinner. Cooking had always been my therapy, and tonight, I needed the distraction.

By six-thirty, the house smelled amazing and everything was ready. There was just one thing left to do.

We took my Challenger to pick up Nova, the tension building with every mile. When we pulled up to the clubhouse at exactly seven, my breath caught.

She stood waiting outside, and holy fuck, if she didn't look edible in a simple black dress that hugged every perfect curve.

The hem hit just above her knees, showing off legs that I wanted wrapped around my waist. Her golden hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and she'd done something to make her blue eyes look even bigger.

“Damn, Kitten,” I groaned as she slid into the backseat. “Are you trying to kill us?”

Her cheeks flushed that pretty pink I loved. “Is it too much?” She smoothed her hands over the dress nervously.

“Perfect,” Haze rumbled from the passenger seat, his eyes dark with appreciation as they raked over her.

The drive to our place was charged. I caught Nova's gaze in the rearview mirror more than once, watching how she'd quickly look away, biting that plump lower lip. Each time she did, my grip tightened on the steering wheel. That innocent gesture shouldn't be so fucking erotic.

When we pulled up to the brownstone, I watched her take in the historic brick facade. From the outside, it was nothing fancy—just another upscale residence in a quiet neighborhood. But inside, we'd made it ours.

I helped her from the car, savoring the feel of her small hand in mine. The slight tremor in her fingers told me she was nervous, but excited.

Good.

That's exactly where I wanted her.

“Welcome home, Kitten,” I murmured, guiding her up the steps with my hand on the small of her back.

The moment we stepped inside, her eyes went wide. The open floor plan gave her an immediate view straight through to the kitchen where candles flickered on the granite island. “This is beautiful,” she breathed, taking in the exposed brick walls and dark hardwood floors.

Haze helped her out of her light jacket, his hands lingering on her shoulders. She shivered at his touch, and I noticed again how she unconsciously leaned back into him before catching herself and stepping forward.

“You cook?” she asked, surprise evident in her voice as she noticed the elaborate place settings on the dining table.

“Kane,” Haze answered.

She giggled, and the sound went straight to my cock. Everything about her affected me like this—her laugh, her smile, the way she moved.

“Wine?” I offered, already reaching for a bottle of red I'd bought specifically for tonight.

“Please.” She wandered into the living room, her fingers trailing over the leather couch. My mind immediately went to how she'd look spread out on it, begging for us.

The image was so vivid I had to adjust my cock that had decided to rise to the occasion.

Nova paused at a black and white photo on the wall—one of Haze and me as teenagers, arms slung around each other's shoulders.We couldn't have been more than fifteen, but even then, our bond was evident.

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