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Heat.

Want.

Cinnamon and smoke.

Those strange golden sparks race over my skin as I kiss him back, and a rough sound vibrates from his chest. He pulls me closer.

I go willingly.

Because this—this is what I’ve wanted.

This is what I’ve been dreaming about ever since I first laid eyes on the tall, grumpy Jersey Devil next door.

His arms around me.

His mouth on mine.

All that brooding intensity focused entirely on me.

And for once, I don’t question why he wants me.

I don’t compare myself to anyone else.

I don’t wonder whether I’m too much or somehow not enough.

I just let myself want him back. Even though I know that whatever happens between us is going to complicate everything.

I know that. Damian probably knows it too.

But right now?

For once in my life, I don't want to worry about what everyone else thinks I should do.

I want to choose something because I want it.

And Goddess help me—I choose the Devil.

Chapter 11

Damian

Kissing Belinda is like a drug.

No. That's not right.

Drugs make you lose control.

Belinda does the opposite.

I feel—fuck—I feel more in control than I have in years.

My head is clear. My hands are steady. Even the constant pressure beneath my skin, that relentless urge to change, to claw my way out of this body and surrender to the Devil completely, quiets.

And what am I so intently focused on?

Pleasure. Hers. Mine.

Both.