The Devil She Knew

By: Talia Hunter

What was he so set on talking about?

Maybe she shouldn’t have called him Milhouse, but as nicknames went, it wasn’t so bad, was it? The lie he’d told about her had been a million times worse.

He pulled her along until the wedding was behind them and the noise of the band had faded. Her bare feet were suddenly on grass and she staggered a little. Where was he leading her? Behind the bures?

Sure enough, they went into the trees behind the resort. It was dark back there, and deserted, so nobody could hear her yell at him. He reached a palm tree and turned to face her. Her heart was pounding. He loomed half a head taller than her, his wide shoulders making her feel tiny in comparison. How did he get so big? His shirt did nothing to hide his powerful build. During the speeches, she’d kept catching herself shooting sideways glances at his biceps, and when they’d flexed, she’d gulped her drink so she wouldn’t be tempted to run her hand over them.

In the darkness, his face was hidden and his scent seemed stronger. It was a potent musk, a no-doubt-expensive cologne that shouted ‘male’ at the top of its lungs. As she inhaled it, her knees weakened. Who was this powerful man, this stranger, in front of her? Alone in the dark with him she should be afraid. But it was excitement, not fear, seething in her belly. It was arousal making her legs tremble.

What devil-sorcery had he used, to make her feel this way? She should be furious, not turned on. She refused to let him arouse her.

Nate stepped close enough that if she hadn’t shrunk back he would have been pressed against her. The rough trunk of the palm tree was suddenly against her back. He may have her trapped, but she wouldn’t be cowed.

“How dare you?” She meant it to come out as an accusation, but her voice trembled. “I won’t be pushed around, especially not by you. You’re a shitty excuse for a—”

He cut her off with a harsh, low laugh. The sound seemed to be wired directly into her nerve center, because it made her weak with need. “You have a filthy mouth.” Grabbing her waist, he pulled her roughly against him. His mouth covered hers, smothering the insult.

Though his anger was obvious, his lips were soft. His tongue caressed hers, knocking the breath from her lungs. His arousal jutted against her belly and answering warmth pulsed between her thighs. No! Sweet mother of mercy, why did he have to feel so good?

She tried to push him away, but her arms were weak. What was wrong with her? She didn’t want this… did she?

One of his hands moved up to her face, first stroking back her hair, then gathering a fistful and using it to tilt her head back and give his mouth better access. His kiss deepened and got more intense, and when he broke away she had to stifle a sound of protest. But he was only moving his lips to her neck, to bite and kiss her as though he was going to devour her. His other hand cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple. The rough way he handled her made her groan with pleasure. She shouldn’t like it, but oh man, she did. She’d never been touched with such fierce urgency. It set her alight, made her longing so strong she couldn’t bear it.

“Stop,” she gasped. But at the same time she arched her back to press her breast against his hand.

He let her go and pulled away. “Whatever you say.” His tone was harsh. “You want to fight, we can do that instead.”

“I—” She broke off, running her tongue over her swollen bottom lip. She could still taste him, and her body thrummed with need. Tell him to get lost. Instead she longed to order him to put his hands back on her.

“Well?” he asked.

It was too dark to read his expression, but it was his fault she felt like this. She hadn’t wanted him, but now he’d better damn well finish what he started.

“Touch me.”

With an impatient noise he reached out and yanked the top of her dress open. She heard the thin fabric tear and the buttons pop. What the hell? Her dress was ruined.

She opened her mouth to berate him, but the words died when he pushed her bra down and took her breast in his warm hand, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb. A sound flew from her throat, but instead of a curse, it was a low moan of pleasure.

She didn’t have to punish him with words. There was a better way. Grabbing his tie, she yanked the knot with what little strength she had left. She tore it off and dropped it, then reached for the front of his shirt. Judging by the silky fabric it had probably been expensive. Too bad. She tore it open and sent the buttons flying.

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