Page 27 of The Devil's Waltz

Camille’s heart pounds in her chest as she grabs the front of my shirt, leaning into me as we lose ourselves in the feeling of each other.

“We’re going to be late,” I murmur against her lips.

Her grip on my shirt tightens. “Don’t care.”

I chuckle, sliding my hand up her arm, and cup the side of her neck, running my thumb along her jaw. My tongue darts out to flick along herlips until she parts them to let me in with a quiet moan that tears through me, drowning me in the desire to take her at this exact moment. The tension sparking between us is as powerful as a magnet, pulling us closer with each thundering heartbeat. I can’t get enough of her. I wantmore. My tongue slides along hers, reveling in the sweet taste of her, and our kiss turns into something more frantic.

I’m thoroughly aware of the lack of romance in having my way with her against the side of a car outside her apartment. I shove that primal urge away with a noticeable amount of effort.

Still, I force myself to pull back and rest my forehead against hers while we catch our breaths. “We should get going. I’d hate to make a bad first impression by keeping your friends waiting.” I lower my voice. “Besides, all the things I’d like to do to you shouldn’t be rushed.”

Camille sucks in a breath, her heart racing. There’s a flicker of surprise in her expression that I can’t help but smirk at. She’s so responsive…It’s so fucking tempting.

“Right,” she says, then clears her throat and steps back, letting go of my shirt.

I have half a mind to stare at the wrinkles her ironclad grip left behind. Instead, I close the passenger door after she gets in, then walk around the front of my Camaro, getting behind the wheel and starting the car. “All set?” I ask, glancing over to make sure she’s buckled.

She nods. “I’m excited for you to meet my friends. Phoebe is a literal angel, and Grayson is the funniest person I know.”

I pull away from the curb, shooting her a smile. “I’m sure we’ll get along great.” So long as this friend of Camille’s isn’tactuallya celestial. Then things would get a lot more complicated—very fucking fast.

The restaurant is buzzing with dozens of lively conversations and dishes clattering. I can see food being prepared in the kitchen behind a mostly glass wall at the back of the vast dining space. The lighting is dim, giving the room an atmosphere of warmth and comfort.

A middle-aged hostess guides us toward where Camille’s friends are waiting in a booth near the back.

Phoebe’s eyes light up the moment she sees us, and she immediately starts nudging Grayson to get out of the booth, nearly bouncing with excitement. She follows him out and wraps her arms around Camille in atight hug, whispering in her ear, “You were right. He is smokin’ hot. Well done, Cami.” Her voice has a teasing lilt, and she laughs softly as she steps back.

My lips twitch, and I smoothly turn to Grayson, sticking out my hand. “Xander,” I offer as we shake hands, getting a subtle whiff of his crisp smelling cologne. I figure he’s around my age, considering he goes to school with Camille.

“Grayson,” he replies in a friendly voice, pairing it with a polite smile. His blue-gray eyes allude to sincerity when he adds, “It’s good to meet you, man.”

“Likewise.”

The girls break apart, and Camille goes to hug Grayson, ruffling his coppery brown curls, while Phoebe eyes me up for a moment before stepping closer. My posture stiffens briefly when she throws her arms around my neck and hugs me, overwhelming my senses with the warm scent of vanilla and coconut.

“If you hurt her, I swear I willobliterateyou in ways you can’t even fathom.” Her tone is soft and sweet, which only serves to make her words more severe.

Literal angel, huh?

I nod and speak so only she can hear me. “Understood.”

“Amazing.” She steps back, smiling at me before she and Grayson take their seats again.

Camille slides into the other side of the booth across from Phoebe, leaving me on the end across from Grayson. I’d much rather be looking at my date, but having her next to me is almost as enjoyable. Especially since I can slide my hand up her thigh under the table, and when I do, I’m rewarded with a subtle hitch in her breath.

When the waiter stops by our table with water and bread, we order a round of drinks before taking in the small novel that is the menu. I lean closer to Camille as she glances it over.

“There are too many options,” she says with a halfhearted sigh.

“You can never go wrong with pasta,” I point out, giving her knee a gentle squeeze.

She chuckles, her cheeks tinged pink. “Hmm. That is very true.”

A few minutes later, our waiter returns, and we place our orders. Once he walks away, Grayson stretches out, leaning against the back ofthe booth and draping his arm over Phoebe’s shoulders. “You’re coming to the lake house in a couple of weeks, right?” he asks Camille.

She nods around a mouthful of bread.

“Adrianna hasn’t stopped talking about it.” She shares a laugh with Phoebe. “At this point, I don’t think we have the option to not go.” Her voice is light and paired with a fond smile.

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