Page 94 of The Temptation

Sometimes, I honestly can’t tell if she’s more devil than angel.

I let out a breath that sounds like a curse and drag my free hand down my face before meeting her gaze.

“That’s the problem,” I mutter. “I don’t.”

Her big, brown eyes get impossibly wider as a triumphant smile curves her full lips. Lips, I’m aching to kiss again.

“You don’t?”

I push my head further back into the pillow and groan. “Just because I don’t want you to stop, doesn’t mean I’m not going to stop you.”

She blows out a puff of air. “I see Mr FunPolizia(Police) is rearing his uptight little head again.”

I smirk. “He prefers Chief of Self-Control, actually.”

She shifts, her thigh brushing mine, and leans in just enough for her breath to tickle my jaw. “Pretty sure he’s about to get fired.”

I groan, low and deep. “He’s dangerously close to handing in his badge,” I admit.

That has her smile returning as she tries to push her hand further into my underwear, but by some miracle, I hold tight.

“Ugh,” she sighs, dropping her head to my chest. “You’re impossible ... and stupidly hot.”

I bark out a laugh. “Stupidly hot?”

“Yes. I think I’m going to self-combust if I don’t get a release. Can I at least hump your leg?”

That has me busting out another laugh.

“Well, can I?”

“No!”

“We’re consenting adults, Romeo. I’m your wife, for God’s sake.”

I stare up at her, but remain silent, while a full-blown war rages in my head.

“Are you seriously going to stop me?” she asks as she tries to force her hand down my pants again.

“I don’t have a death wish.”

This time, she laughs, but it’s not a humorous one; it’s more manic. “Move your hand,” she growls. “Or Dante will be the least of your worries.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Is that a threat, sweetheart?”

“No, it’s a promise.”

I’m unable to hold back my shit-eating grin. This woman is too much, and a constant source of entertainment.

When she tugs her hand out from underneath mine and rolls over, I struggle to hold back another laugh. She gave up way easier than I anticipated.

When she mumbles something underneath her breath, I roll my lips, but when she flips onto her back and I catch the glow of her phone in her hand, my grin fades.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“None of your business.”

“What. Are. You. Doing?” I repeat, punctuating each word.