The Devil You Burn For.

ss and shove it toward her like it's the

he salt from her hand, gripping the lime slice, and lifting her glass like

I grin. "On the cou

n my throat like molten lava, and crashes into my gut with a satisfying burn. For a brief

she licks her lips and shakes her

ready signaling the bartender for

stumbles back a step. "Oh, no. I a

poured glasses into her hand. "You are not le

a mock scowl. "Come on, Theresa, we need to celebrate."

far too dramatic for someone about to marry into a billionaire mafi

helps." Especially when you're trying to drown the ache of missing your kid..

questionable decisions

she tips it back like a champ. When she slams the empty g

at from her forehead. "No more f

come w

d, pupils slightly dilated. "You ge

u s

te to cool off." She darts

a chance on the mess I've become. Hired me at her flower shop, The Tilting Tulip, when I barely knew which end of a rose stem to hold. She gave me a lifeline. And yet...

, the moment I slipped on my heels and painted on my confidence. But I did it anyway

utiful, freeing mistake. And the alco

k, I tell myself.

another shot of tequila. But before h

nce beh

at my

ts up every nerve ending and tell

skull, trickling between my shoulder blades and sliding into

glances up, and I k

tly into my ear. Low. Dangerous. Like dar

jump out

mmand. It slithers under my skin and

n't

n'

ainst my exposed back like a second skin. I swear I can feel his breath m

rs. I force mysel

ords. Six-foot-something of broodin

ring over

p, jaw set. "You

oice rough silk. "

against the bar. But he follows. The tips of his shoes brush

cared of y

s, then crawl back up to meet m

hi

s the kind of smile that says I eat trouble for br

ings false even to me. "I don

eling's

s past me, brushing his arm against my colla

y, laced with spice, hit

elt on the spot. The glass is warm where his fingers

mis

my gut and explodes like dynamite. My eyes water. I co

icker of... amusement? D

back of my hand. "Never seen a

that shouldn't be legal. His throat works, his jaw flexes, and for

grip,

e bar with a firm, controlled c

's under a spell, rush

esn't blink. Just slowly takes th

ouch. It's ba

lightni

and straight to my core. I can't

ng it across the room. "I'm not going to sleep with yo

curl of amusement lifts one co

auda

oesn't leer, oh no, this man doesn't need to. His dissection is clinical. Str

t you?" he murmurs, as though

quare my shoulders. "And yo

is sharp.

too at

help