Page 32 of Filthy Twisted Devil

“Tell me no,” he murmurs, his breath grazing my parted lips. “Tell me to stop.”

I don’t. Because there’s not a cell in my body that wants him to.

His mouth closes the distance between us, pressing against mine. Hard. There’s nothing gentle or exploratory about it. It’s all heat and pressure, hunger and silent commands.

Commands that I obey without thinking.

My body moves before my brain can catch up. I melt against him, circling my arms around his neck as I press every part of me I can against him. His tongue swipes through my mouth as his hand finds my jaw, tilting my face up just the way he wants it. Chills roll through me as he maps every inch of my mouth with his tongue and lips.

His cock twitches slightly against my stomach. I roll my hips encouragingly, wanting to feel it. I want to know exactly what Luke Windsor is packing under his tailored suits.

Instantly, he steps away, dropping his hands. The sudden retreat feels like a slap—a harsh, sudden reminder that this is how things are with us. He might initiate a kiss, but he also decides when it ends.

Which is never when I want it to.

His chest heaves. For three full seconds, he stares at my mouth like a man doing complicated math.

He clears his throat. “Okay. Now we know we can turn it on when we need to.” At my dazed look, he adds, “We’ve got that dinner with my Quebec distributor and his wife next week. They’re still pretty cagey about doing business with me after the Peppermint piece, so we really need to sell it.”

“Right.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “I need to show them you’re a good boyfriend. That was good practice.”

Except the word feels wrong in my mouth. Nothing about that kiss felt like practice. It felt like something real, something stolen and secret and decadent.

“I should let you get back to work,” he says, nodding. “I’ll pick you up next week, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

As the door closes behind him, I press my fingers to my lips. If I close my eyes, part of me thinks I can still feel the heat of his mouth.

13

LUKE

“You’re going to love this place,” I assure Eden as we stroll up to Olive and Branch. “I know, the name is kind of dumb—why couldn't they just call it the Olive Branch? But they’ve got amazing bread.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it,” she says.

“It’s Robert’s favorite. It’s where we usually go when he’s in town. Maybe I should have made reservations somewhere else, though. You know, proof that I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“You don’t know Robert. He’s very conservative, very by-the-book. Maybe a business lunch would have been a better idea, but I guess it’s too late to⁠—”

“Luke,” she murmurs, interrupting me. “You need to calm down. It’s going to be fine. Robert’s going to be fine.”

“I’m calm! Why would you think I’m not calm?”

“Because you’re rambling and your palms are sweating.” I instinctively try to pull my hand out of hers, but she squeezes it hard. “It’s okay. You’re going to charm them, like you do with everyone. I can tell this one just means something to you.”

I let out a breath. “Yeah. It’s just, Quebec is the first place where Twisted Devil really took off. Like, they started ordering way more than we had in stock. I thought I was screwed. I didn’t know that businesses go under when they get too popular too fast. They can’t keep up with demand, and people write them off. Robert talked me through it. Helped me figure out some pricing strategies to keep up.”

She nods. “So you feel like you owe him.”

“Yeah. The thing is, he’s kind of conservative. When the Peppermint article went viral, he started acting really formal on phone calls. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell it bugged him.”

I brace for her to tell me that I was reading too much into it. That he probably likes me fine. That’s the kind of shit I hate, when someone acts like I read a social situation wrong. I’ve learned to read when someone doesn’t like me—I’m a goddamn expert.

Eden just nods. “If he still feels that way, then we’ll handle it.”