Page 102 of Love & Heart Braking

He shook his head. “Sarcasm is beneath you. I get it. You don’t want to hear.”

I whacked his chest. “No, I do. Shoot.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Devereaux Vincori. Tell me.”

“I guess I could. For a kiss.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How did I lose this conversation?”

He winked.

I turned his face toward me with unnecessary force. Blue irises flashed, and I stared at his predator before leaning forward to bite his bottom lip. A growl rocketed out of him.

Crash.

I pulled back, peering at the closest shelf. “Book end.”

“Screw the book end.” Devereaux snarled and gripped my hips. I was straddling him in the next second, and that was it. I ground into him, crushing my mouth against his. His hand was in my hair.

Boom.

“Chandelier,” he grunted.

One more.

Devereaux ended our kiss and arched me back. My top rode up, and he helped it along, then groaned at the sight of my naked breasts.

My berserker trailed his nose up the flat of my stomach and between my boobs where he kissed the underside of each. “These are fucking perfect, sweetheart.”

Glad to hear it. Because they were aching for his touch.

Shatter.

“Bathroom mirror,” we both said.

Devereaux groaned, nuzzling my breasts once more before he picked me up and deposited me on the couch beside him. The pressure on the front of his pants looked borderline painful.

“Torture,” I whispered, chest rising and falling.

“The real torture is smelling how wet you are and not being able to bury my face between your legs.”

I gulped at the visual, pressing my thighs together.

A knock sounded at the door.

I started to get up, and a blue-eyed Devereaux rested a hand on my thigh. “I’ll get it.”

He totally didn’t want anyone else to see me in these shorts. Smirking, I gestured to the door.

He looked through the peephole, then swung the door open. “Rodney Gambino.”

My poltergeist neighbor narrowed his gaze. “Shove. Bury. Squeeze. Rip.”

With that, he floated away.

I padded to the phone and jotted the four words down on the post-it stack on the bench—a gift from Soleil in a bid to organize me.

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