The Devil You Burn For.

at least I used to think so... until I found myself standing toe-to-toe with this human-s

you?" I say, smirking up at him, tho

the English language," he says, his tone so cold it could've flash-frozen a bottle of grappa mid-air. Not that I'm st

so we're clear, I may be on the fun-sized s

s face until his mouth is just inc

velvet laced with gunpowder, sending

s eyes flick over me, and his lips twist i

he, ?" I sputter. "I'm not offering you anything, you a

ugh me like a bassline, making my stomach dip in a w

ghing at me. I don't know

y, still smirking like the devil himself

smug and that gorgeous at the same time. That face, sharp cheekbones, dark eyes,

r, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I'll have yo

ing his head, "it's my pr

r presence that makes me want to th

d the door, like some medieval lord dismissing a c

. "And here I thought Italian me

f women," he shoots back wi

"When it comes to you, I wouldn't be interested if

peating yourself doesn't make it true. Or c

I bite back the urge. Giving him the satisfac

eer," I say in

owns.

a thumb toward the bartender.

ned with disbelief, like I just aske

heerfully. "We Brits don'

fense dripping from every line

s body hits me instantly through his shirt. The man is a human furnace, all lean muscle and intimidat

s are still pressed against his sh

ry." Not s

e drifting up to where my bun has starte

I scowl, reachi

s nests that loo

king like that, and I'll start

tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brush the shell of it, and a jolt goes z

ind us, snapping th

er

etween the two of us, brows lifting in concer

g back. Seb drops his hand at the same moment, a

t's going on?" s

zilla bodyguard over here seems to

full attention to me. His eyes dip to my dres

are you weari

pen. "Excuse me?

nd naked," he growls. "You're pr

t both hands on my hips. "Who

ou," he bites back. "A

erking my thumb toward Theresa. "

r back on me,"

"I'll do whatever the hell

ar his teeth grinding. Prob

ng sharp and ugly twists in my chest. Jealousy? No. Absolutely not. She's in love w

r voice soft and soothin

ence, then he seems to rele

lder. "Elise," she says gently. "Maybe we should leav

g to the idea of a bun, and glare at Seb one last time. "Fine

me a wary look

beer the bartender has just filled, and with an

aking into that pristine white shirt of his

le sw

ay. "Now I'm