Page 71 of Deal with the Devil
“I've been thinking about you,” he says, stepping closer. Close enough that his cologne only adds to the trance he’s put me under. I can practicallyseethe way it clings to his white shirt. All it makes me want to do is bury my face in his broad chest and inhale.
I draw a breath to calm myself and stammer out, “What about me?”
“You know what,” he answers. “About what happened between us.”
The blush on my cheeks burns hotter. “It was a mistake.”
“Was it? Your body didn’t seem to think so.” His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “You were trembling, dolcezza. Clawing at me. Squeezing my cock with your tight little pussy.”
I ease back to pull away as if his words have scalded me. Every rational part of my brain screams at me to fight. But his everything about him is like a drug.
He grabs me by the wrist before I can put enough distance between us.
“You're afraid of me," he says. “But not in the way you should be.”
We both know he’s right. I'm not afraid he'll hurt me, even after the spanking from the other night. I'm afraid of how he makes me feel, of the way my body responds to his touch despite everything my mind knows to be true.
I’ve fallen in love with Rafael. Il Diavolo is the man I fear.
All while the flirtation and desire becomes irresistible and impossible to refuse.
None of it makes sense the more I try to process it.
“You're not what I expected,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
“What did you expect?”
“Cruelty. Violence. Thedevil.”
“I can be all of those things, dolcezza,” he says. His thumb traces my lower lip, eliciting a shiver out of me. “Make no mistake, Iamall of those things. But not with you. Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve realized that even the devil can’t fight temptation forever.”
Before I can process what that means, his mouth is on mine. The kiss is desperate and consuming, immediately stealing any air from my lungs. He kisses me like he's truly a mad man who’s lost his mind.
He’s the devil finally giving into fleshly human desire.
My hands find their way to his chest, fingers splaying against the warm cotton of his shirt. His heartbeat thunders against my palm, proof that this affects him as much as it does me.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls, nipping at my lips. Then he kisses me again, pouring even more passion into the kiss.
I should. I need to.
It’s what’s right. It’s what needs to happen.
But instead, I find myself breathing, “Don't. Keep… keep going.”
His composure shatters at that simple request. His hands squeeze my waist, pulling me flush against him as the kiss deepens even more and his tongue slips into my mouth. I’m barely able to keep up as his tongue flicks mine and sends a quake of lust through me.
I can feel his hard length pressing against my hip, evidence of just how much he wants this.
…how hungry he is for me.
He guides me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands are everywhere—threading through my hair, skimming down my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He tugs at the ties holding my robe in place and pushes the silk coverup off my shoulders.
“So damn beautiful,” he breathes, capturing my lips again. Then he’s on my throat. Dropping kisses on my bare shoulders and chest.
