Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 80249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I stretch the towel out, holding it in both of my hands. I look at her over the top of it, leering with my face showing nothing but challenge.
“Like this, Angel?”
“I’m trusting you not to peek,” she warns.
“Scouts honor,” I grin.
“Turn your head.”
She waits until I do it, and then stands. The sound of water sloshing makes my mind go wild. I know the visions I’m picturing could only pale next to the real thing…
“You’re looking!” she gasps, pulling the towel around her quickly. She did it before I barely got a glance, but what I did see was fucking amazing.
“Darlin’, I’m called Devil for a reason. There’s not a straight man alive who could pass up that chance. Hell, some gay ones too.”
“Whatever. You were never a scout, were you?”
“In the most technical sense… no,” I laugh.
“Can I get you to go back out into the hall while I get dressed?”
“If I say no?”
“Then I think our date will be over pretty quickly,” she says stubbornly.
I think she’s bluffing, but I’m not willing to test that out. I lean over and kiss her quickly, and walk away.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Angel. You never know when I might be forced to come back in—to check on you, of course.”
“You never know when I might be forced to clobber you over the head with that baseball bat by my bed—in shock, of course.”
And there’s the old Torrent, mimicking me and giving as good as she gets. I laugh as I leave the room, because I could see her doing it, and I’m as fucked up as everyone has always accused me of being—because I like it.
Torrent
I smile as he closes the door. I really wasn’t expecting him tonight. I actually wasn’t sure how this would work. I’m surprised he’s here and I keep looking around, certain that some of my dad’s men will find him—or know he’s here.
I throw on a pair of pajamas. I should probably dress up since Devil is here. This isn’t exactly a normal date, though, and I want to relax tonight. I look at my jeans and T-shirts hanging in the closet and second guess myself, but finally say fuck it and close the door. I towel dry my hair and stare longingly at my blow dryer. My hair will be an untamable mess by morning, but I don’t want to delay being with Logan. I can admit that I’m happy he’s here—even excited. It’s probably not fair and makes me all kinds of horrible—but I’m glad that Wolf is out of town.
“What are you doing now?” I ask Devil when I finally track him down in the kitchen.
“I’m hungry,” he says with a grin. “You’re looking good, Torrent,” He takes a bite of a banana. The same could definitely be said about him. Eating a banana shouldn’t be sexy, but somehow on Devil it is.
“I’m pretty sure there’s something more filling in this kitchen than bananas,” I laugh, sliding into a stool at the breakfast bar. He pulls off a piece of his banana and brings it to my lips. I’m almost hypnotized by the look on his face and without thought find myself opening for him. He slips the sweet bite between my lips and I suck it from his fingers. I don’t think it’s my imagination that his eyes darken in color. My heart feels like it’s kicked into overdrive in my chest and I forget to breathe.
“I know,” he says. “There’s peanut butter.”
I blink, wondering if I misheard him.
“Peanut butter?”
“Angel, you haven’t lived until you’ve had a fried banana and peanut butter sandwich.”
“I… if you tell me you’re really the King of Rock n’ Roll, I’m going to go running now.”
“No Elvis here, but if you’re a good girl I’ll show you how well I can move my hips later.”
“I bet you would. You really are a freak, aren’t you, Logan?”
He winks at me and I find myself laughing. I haven’t felt like laughing in a while, but around Devil I tend to do it all the time.
“What’s all this? I thought you just put the peanut butter and banana together?” I ask, trying to pay attention to what he’s doing as he gathers ingredients.
“Sacrilege! The secret to making a sandwich fit for the King is the honey.”
“Honey? Do I even have that?”
“Found it in the cabinet. See peanut butter alone is more than filling. It’s enough to make you lick your lips and moan from pleasure, but if you add a little sweet honey so it sticks to the peanut butter making it slide down your throat while the flavor explodes on your tongue. And then there’s the cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon?” I’m whispering because his words conjure up images that have nothing to do with a sandwich or cooking.
“Anything thick, sweet and moan-worthy needs a little spice added so you always remember it.”