Page 45 of Devil’s Torture

When he kisses me, it’s all passion and desire. It feels like he’s trying to devour me, and I melt into him completely. He leans me back against the bed and strips me slowly. Every movement of his hands makes my skin tingle.

He doesn’t move from his position on the floor. I look down at him, more than a little dazed. “What are you doing?” The question scrapes from my throat and sounds raw even to my own ears.

“Enough talk for now,” he growls. “It’s time for me to show you what it means to have your man back in your life.”

As he dives between my legs, his fingers dig into my upper thighs and hold me open for him. He doesn’t lick me with delicate movements; he devours me like he’s been starving for me.

Every growl is filled with satisfaction, and every grunt is a demand for more of my arousal on his tongue. I’m fucking drenched and he snarls against my flesh like he’s afraid someone will take his food away from him.

As if anyone would even dare to try.

When he sucks my clit into his mouth, my hips jolt. But he doesn’t let up.

I never thought that this man would come back into my life, but he’s here now and the ten years we lost doesn’t feel as much like torture anymore. It feels like the long way around to the destination that was always fated.

Ten years ago I didn’t know if that was true, but I do now.

I feel it in the way he holds me. I feel it in the way he reaches for me, not to possess me—though he does that so well—but to hold me close and shore me up for whatever comes at us next.

I’m not afraid Miller will leave again. I’m not even afraid he’ll let us down.

What I’m afraid of is that I won’t be able to put down all of the hurt, and one day I’ll realize I didn’t embrace this love the way I should have.

When Miller slides two fingers inside me, all my doubts, thoughts, and fears scatter as his name falls from my lips. He growls and the vibration of it shatters me completely.

As my orgasm washes over me, he doesn’t let up. He collects every bit of my wetness and keeps searching for more.

I’m a panting, sweaty mess by the time Miller backs off. There’s a glint in his eyes as he looks up the length of my body and meets my gaze. There are still shadows there, but they’re not as ominous as they used to be.

He’s finding his light again and letting the past, and the torture of it all, go. This man has kept me safe. Not just when he killed Ron, but he also kept my heart safe and secure in his hands for the last ten years even when I was completely oblivious.

I know that won’t change for the rest of my life. This man was always meant to be mine just like I was always meant to be his.

I’ll just have to wait a little while before I slip my cut back on. It’s always better to keep a man his size on his toes.

A smile curves my lips as Miller stands and starts to strip. The promises in his eyes aren’t just about the pleasure he’s about to give me.

He’s home and he’s not going anywhere again.

EPILOGUE

ONE YEAR LATER

BEXLEY

I’ve barely pulled my head away from the toilet when another wave of nausea rolls through me. Just as I let out a low groan, Miller is there and pulls back my hair. I want to protest and tell him to walk away because I am not at my best right now, but I don’t have the energy. He wouldn’t listen to me anyway.

Which is probably for the best considering I don’t feel good at all. When I finally get myself under control, he’s right there scooping me up in his arms and carrying me to bed after cleaning me up and getting me a glass of water.

I look into his blue eyes and only see concern shining back at me. The man turns into a mother hen whenever either of his girls get sick. It’s kind of adorable and kind of overbearing. I love it completely.

“What is going on with you, Bex?” There is real fear in his voice. “You haven’t been feeling well for over a week.”

My eyebrows pull together because it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long at all. I can’t help but tease him, “Have you been keeping track?”

“Yes,” he grunts and pulls up his phone to show me the little notes he’s added to his calendar. My eyes widen slightly as I look, but it’s not from surprise. Noting when I’ve been sick is totally something he would do. “Maybe I should call the CDC? They have to be the authority in this. Or maybe the Mayo Clinic? St. Judes?”

I snort and almost choke on the drink of water I’m trying to take. My words come out as a rasp, “That’s for children.”