Page 68 of Love At the Gates of Hell (The Seven Sinners Trilogy #1)

“They’re saying it’s a nor’easter—”

Benny turned on the taps of her bathtub, making sure to crank up the hot water.

She had barely made it home from campus before the winds started to pick up, the streets already covered in a few inches of snow.

She started to peel her half-damp clothing from her body, creating a trail of sneakers, jeans, a sweater as she dug around in the cabinet of her vanity for her bubble bath.

She spent the entire day in advisor meetings discussing the status of her thesis, and she was exhausted.

All she wanted to do was curl up on the sofa, turn on some mindless television, and heat up that leftover pizza in her fridge.

“That bad, huh?” Gideon asked from the living room.

“I guess so,” she called back. She squeezed in a heavy dollop of bubble bath, the lavender scent a sweet inhale. “I wonder if they’re gonna close campus tomorrow.”

The old cast-iron tub was filling up fast and the bubbles were dangerously close to overflowing, but Benny didn’t mind.

She was ready to be consumed. With a little snap of her fingers, the candles on the vanity lit themselves as the overhead light dimmed.

She pulled her hair off her face with a hair tie from her wrist, gathering it up into a messy bun before stripping herself of her remaining clothing, socks and underwear tossed with the rest of her things.

The only thing that remained was her mother’s golden pendant hanging between her breasts.

She tested the water with the back of her hand.

Just the perfect level of scalding.

A deep sigh passed through her lips as she sank into the tub.

It was the first week of March, and she was trying not to panic at the precious few months she had left to finalize her thesis.

All these years in her doctorate program, and suddenly the last few months were just whizzing by.

Though, it didn’t help that for the first time in a long time, she’d had a rather welcome distraction.

The last six months had been a whirlwind.

Her recovery was painful, but she was grateful.

Thanks to her own healing ability, she seemed to heal in half the time expected.

Gideon was with her every step of the way, doting on her and treating her with the utmost care.

She’d never tire of his gentle touch. Plus there were plenty of two a.m. grilled cheeses at Betty’s when she needed a break.

There had been funerals to attend, for the men who helped save her at Our Lady of Perpetual Help, and a lot of work to be done in her father’s organization.

New tests of loyalty. Benny found herself more involved with her father’s work than ever before.

Fighting alongside these men had left her feeling a more vested interest.

And perhaps a more grounded one.

She could do this without losing herself, she hoped.

The Crawford brothers were taking a break from their usual criminal activities, thanks in part to her father coming through on his promise to double his original payment.

Gideon and Luke had balked initially, telling Angelo they weren’t going to accept it.

Not after everything that happened. Which was sweet, but stupid.

It was a lot of money. And frankly, well earned.

“So, are you telling me we’re gonna be snowed in?”

Gideon was leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed against his chest, dressed in a perfectly worn pair of jeans and a soft, faded T-shirt snug against his biceps. She liked him casual. She liked him every which way, but this was especially good.

She rested her forearms on the edge of the tub as she peered up at him.

“I think so,” she said, voice solemn.

Gideon stepped further into the bathroom, a smile playing at his lips as he glanced down at the pink vintage tile, tracking each article of clothing as it led to the bathtub.

“What time do you have to go in tomorrow?” he asked.

“The only thing I’ve got is lunch with the girls,” she said, leaning back. Cleo had become a welcome addition to her weekly coven lunch with Olivia and Imani. She lifted one leg out of the water, running her loofah slowly against her skin. “Tomorrow’s pretty much a free day.”

“No early morning?” he asked casually.

“No early morning.”

“Hm” was all he said.

“Gideon,” she said, looking up at him with a sweet smile. “Take off your clothes.”

A glimmer of something wicked flashed behind his eyes.

“These clothes?” he asked as he crossed toward her. “You sure?”

And before she knew it, he was stepping into the tub fully dressed.

She shrieked his name with laughter, the water splashing over the side as he kneeled between her legs, his body hovering over hers, his clothing creating an unexpectedly delicious sensation against her bare skin. “What are you doing?”

His smile widened into something playful and boyish.

“Come here,” he urged, his hand cupping the side of her face.

“You are out of your mind.”

“For you,” he agreed before he kissed her, his mouth finding hers thoroughly wanting. She leaned into him, her legs spreading open as he fit himself between her, the denim rough against her thighs. He ran his teeth along her bottom lip and she shuddered. “And you love it.”

“I do,” she sighed, her fingers dragging down his back until she found the hem of his T-shirt. She slipped her hands beneath the wet fabric, her nails digging into his skin. “You know I do.”

“Move in with me,” he said, his hand smoothing down her throat, his thumb creating just a little bit of pressure at her pulse point. “I don’t just want to be snowed in with you. I want this every single day, Benny.”

A breath passed between her lips as his touch trailed from her throat to her breast, his palm rough against her skin. He teased at her nipple, squeezing at the hard bud until she was squirming against him, her thighs tightening around him. He somehow knew exactly what she needed. Always.

“Every day,” she repeated, the idea so incredibly appealing at this precise moment.

“Luke is moving out,” he told her as his other hand curved around her waist, the water splashing as he pulled her close against him.

“What?” she asked, blinking. “Where is he going?”

“That’s not pertinent to this conversation,” he said, reminding her with his mouth, his teeth dragging against the line of her jaw.

“Hm, right, yes,” she murmured. “You want me to move in with you.”

“I do,” he said as her fingers moved to his belt buckle. “I would like that a lot.”

“Can we turn the other bedroom into an office?”

“We can turn it into a goddamn ballet studio if you want,” he told her.

She licked at her lips as she undid the fly of his jeans, her hand slipping beneath the heavy fabric.

He was hard as she wrapped her hand around him, her strokes drawing a soft moan from his lips, her magic flowing from her to him.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the way he reacted to her touch.

She loved the way he fell apart with her.

She cupped his jaw in her hand, reaching up to press a rough kiss to his mouth.

“Fuck, Benny,” he moaned as she increased her pace.

“Yes,” she said, watching the way his eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide.

“Yes?” he repeated, a little breathless.

“I want to move in with you.”

“I love you,” he said, voice rough as his hips twitched. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” she said. “I’m going to paint the bathroom pink.”

“Whatever you want, Benny,” Gideon said as he lost himself in her hand. “Whatever you want.”

Hell wasn’t what he expected it to be.

It was dry, open, vaster than he could have ever imagined.

And it wasn’t nearly as dark as he thought.

In fact, it was almost blinding. The sun bearing down so hard it left him with a permanent kind of headache, a constant thudding pain building between his ears.

Or what was left of them. Frank wasn’t sure if they had grown back yet, the process of rebuilding himself slow and painstaking.

Death was a different kind of adventure.

Even when one’s body was blown up into tiny little pieces.

They could find a way back to each other, build themselves over again.

However, his days in the body of Halmanthoran were over.

The demon vessel he had been so intent upon was no longer his for the taking.

A part of his punishment was to be denied the ability to transform.

His curse was to be put back in his human body.

Weak. Mortal. Filled with the ability to feel pain.

Over and over again.

He never could have foreseen the extent of the witch’s power. It was foolish of him not to explore all avenues, to predict all outcomes. He was better than that. He had spent far too long trying to achieve ascension for him to have made such a reckless mistake.

But in the time it took him to regrow his bones, his sinew, his skin, he found his way back toward the gate.

The large and looming doors standing so tall he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen them wholly.

He had heard rumblings that the passageway back was still open.

That in the aftermath of his destruction, the ritual to close the doors had gone wrong.

They had been so close.

But a tiny sliver of an opening remained.

A wicked smile crossed his lips as he wondered what could be done, what could move beyond the veil and back into the world.

See, the tricky thing about Hell was that it was hard to leave.

Even if the gate was open, there had to be an invitation.

No slamming the doors wide open and unleashing the hounds and the devils in the army he had hoped for.

Hell was a trap. An endless, tormenting circle.

But maybe there was still a way to have a little bit of fun.