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She's so fucking soft.

So warm.

Her body presses against mine, all lush curves and feminine softness, and something primitive inside me settles deeper with every second I hold her.

Like this is where she belongs.

Like she was made for me.

Mine.

The thought should scare the shit out of me.

Instead, I kiss her harder. And my body? It reacts with fervent ardor.

We exit my truck. I pull her to me, and I grind my hard as nails cock against her soft, sweet promise while my tongue tangles with hers in an erotic duel as old as time itself.

Belinda makes a breathless little sound against my mouth, and that's it.

Whatever remains of my common sense packs its bags and leaves Texas.

I need her closer.

Now.

I slide one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back, and lift her.

“Damian!”

Her arms fly around my neck.

Then I move. Fast.

Faster than I normally allow myself around anyone who isn't supernatural. The distance from my SUV to the front door disappears in seconds.

“Oh my fuck, are we flying?” she gasps against my lips.

I almost laugh.

“Shh. Hold on. I've got you.”

My voice comes out rougher than intended.

Because I do.

I've got her. And Goddess—or Satan, maybe Santa, just whoever the fuck is listening—help anyone who tries to take her away from me right now.

With a flick of my fingers, the locks disengage. Belinda jerks her mouth from mine long enough to look at the door.

“Did you just use magic?”

“Yes.”

“You have magic?”

I carry her through the foyer.

“I'm a Jersey Devil, Sweet.”