Page 42 of The Devil's Torment

It’s the eyes, the curve to his full lips, and the trace of a dimple that flashes at me from time to time, and the fact I’ve been infatuated with this man for so many years, life before him feels like a distant dream.

But if giving myself to him means losing who I am, how will I live with that?

“Half-pint, spit it out. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

A grain of truth erupts out of me without permission. “I forget who I am when you touch me.”

He flashes me those dimples, and I’m a goner.

“If it helps at all, I’m as surprised as you are by how much I enjoy touching you. I didn’t expect to.”

“I’m unsure whether that’s an insult or a compliment.”

His smile broadens. “You’d be under no illusions if I insulted you.”

“Good to know.” I concede, placing my hand inside his. He closes his fingers around me before squeezing lightly. “So, what, you were expecting to be repulsed by me?”

“Not repulsed. Not at all. Just not…” His eyes shift up and to the right before returning to land on mine. “Fascinated.” He brings our joined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of mine.

Thoughts of Beth force their way to the forefront of my mind, drowning me in a flood of guilt. I push it down deep into my stomach. Would he have said these things to her if they’d made it as far as the altar? Whenever they were together, in my presence at least, he behaved respectfully at all times, but if I think about it, he was aloof, too. Distant. Yet whenever our eyes met, his came alive, but back then, they were filled with antipathy. Now, they’re brimming with interest, and I can’t figure out what’s changed, other than we got married. But a ceremony doesn’t alter a person’s feelings.

“You hated me.”

“Never hated.”

“What, then?”

He nibbles the inside of his mouth, giving my question careful consideration. “I’m not sure. You got under my skin simply by breathing.”

A laugh bursts out of me, a hint of bitterness to the tone. “Lovely.”

“That came out wrong.” He releases me and runs a hand over his face from forehead to chin. “You’re too opinionated, too… ballsy. De Vil men prefer their women… passive.”

“Sounds dull as shit.”

His lips turn up on one side. “Haven’t you ever met anyone, and, for whatever reason, you’re irritated by them? The way they walk, the way they talk, their mannerisms and body language?”

“Most of your family, actually.”

He laughs, too, but it’s far more amused than mine. “I guess that makes us even.”

The plane levels out, and my pulse settles back into a normal rhythm. When he starts tapping on his phone again, I pick up my book, but the words all blend into one another. I can’t concentrate, too busy trying to manage the volatile emotions coursing through me. I’ve only been married a day, but nothing is turning out as I thought it would. Most of all my husband.

Maybe I do have a shot at happiness. And hot fucking damn, I’m going to take it.

ChapterSixteen

NICHOLAS

Our flight touches down at five past three on a dazzling, sunny day. As we taxi to a stop, I study Victoria’s expression. She’s bursting to know where we are but is determined, for reasons known only to her, not to ask nicely. The private airfield a few miles north of Dubrovnik gives nothing away, either.

Croatia is a particular favorite destination of mine, and therefore an easy choice for somewhere to take my new wife and allow us the time and space to get to know one another. Plus, I have a yacht moored here, and I’m hoping to spend at least part of the honeymoon sailing. The Dalmatian Coast has some of the most spectacular scenery in Europe, and the weather stays fine even this deep into October. Whereas in England, the chill wind that whips off the English Channel is already in full force and will only gain strength in the coming months.

Craning her neck, Victoria peers through the small window to the right of her seat. I drag my gaze over the column of her neck. I’m desperate to get inside her, and while I wouldn’t have described myself as thoughtful or kind, even I couldn’t bring myself to fuck her when tears streamed down her cheeks and she shook in my arms after I made her come last night.

My jaw involuntarily clenches. Despite the promise I made her not to lay a finger on fuckwit Matthew—a promise I will keep as long as he never sets eyes on my wife again—that doesn’t mean I don’t intend to have my assistant compile a full dossier on him. I’m intrigued to find out what the shitty excuse for a man looks like. I’ve done my fair share of questionable things, but what I’ve never done is make a woman feel as though she’s defective in some way because she doesn’t spontaneously explode into orgasm the moment I touch her clit.

A sigh spills out of Victoria as the plane door opens and warmth and light flood the cabin.

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