The devil is handsome

Amber

"Yes,"

I reply, the word sounding almost like a moan, my lips lingering on the fork as I savor the taste. His gaze feels like a physical touch, but it's not filled with lust. It's something else, something that makes my heart flutter and my stomach drop. I'm used to men looking at me with desire, but his stare is different. It's possessive, it's intense, like he's trying to claim me, make me his.

He grins, his eyes dark and full of mischief, and speaks in a low, commanding whisper.

"Come here," he says, patting his lap.