Page 14 of Dance With A Devil

Then her hand slips down, over my chest, lower, until her palm cups my hard-on through my jeans.

I nearly growl.

“I have an idea,” she rasps, squeezing.

“Dirty girl,” I murmur, dragging her into my lap, her thighs straddling me like she was built for it.

I slap her ass, firm, possessive, and grip her hair. “You really want that punishment? Right here on the porch for the neighbors to see?”

“I’m developing a thing for being watched.” She winks.

Fuck.

I blush.

Me.

Wyck Vaughn, blushing like some virgin schoolboy.

I tug her nose. “Karter was right, you’re a fucking brat.” I don’t want to ruin the mood, but it has to be said. “You’re leaving my father,” I say, dead serious. “You’re moving in with me.”

She stills.

“Whhaat?” she drags the word, blinking like she just misheard me. “You’re serious?”

I nod. “Dead serious. He’s a manipulative old bastard, and you’re done with him. You said it yourself, you never loved him. You belong with me. With us.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “The Devils stick together.”

Her expression shifts, sharp, curious. “Wait… are you saying there’s a female version of the Devils of Cliffside?”

“No. Not yet. But we’re rewriting the rules. The old ones died with our fathers.”

The guilt hits me like a truck.

I turn away. It’s hard, letting her see this side. But if I want her in my world, she needs the truth.

“The Devils meant nothing. They were just masks. Control. A lie.” I meet her eyes again, pride blooming in my chest despite the ache. “But we’re done with that. I’m done with that. The city was built on the bones of better men. It’s time we bury the ones still standing. Everything that’s coming? It’ll rip this place apart. Anyone in the way will be leveled.”

She stares at me, stunned. I give her the nod, permission to speak. “So… some of the students know who you actually are? Without the masks?”

I nod.

“Wow,” she whispers. “So what you’re really saying is… You want me to move in and become your female Devil?”

Her mouth curves. Skipsright overthe part about my father. Good. She’s already mentally erased him.

“I have no intention of letting you go,” I growl. “And Karter’s right, you’re perfect for HR.”

“HR?” she laughs. “What kind of operation needs HR?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to that.”

She leans in, lips brushing my jaw. “I trust you, Wyck. I’m done fighting. I’ll do whatever you want.”

She wraps her arms around me, thighs squeezing my waist, and I almost lose it.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I warn, grinding against her, breath hot against her neck.