Devoured - Cathryn Fox Page 0,3

doing. Heated memories of the hungry kiss we shared come back in a sensual rush. As illicit images dance in my mind’s eye, the visual caress teases and torments the needy spot between my legs.

“Whether I want to or not is not the point,” he responds bluntly.

“I’ll call Cason,” I say, and squeeze my thighs together in an effort to subdue the heat in my body, but I’d have more luck stopping a runaway train with my pinkie finger. “We’ll find someone else through the app. I’m sure there are plenty of other guys willing to help in exchange for cash.”

“Maybe so, but Cason won’t allow them.” His head dips, and while his breath is soft against my face, it’s like a tangible caress to my needy cleft. “You know I’m right. I’m all you got, Peyton, and we’re doing this.”

Anger and desire war with each other as I stare up at the man I hate. My traitorous body remains hot and achy from the way his hand is still holding mine, but I know there’s one thing I’ll never have to worry about with Roman Bianchi.

Him falling for me.

“Fine then.” I snatch my purse from the hallway table. “Let’s go to dinner and work out the kinks.”

“Kinks?”

His brow arches and I give a fast shake of my head. “Details. I meant to say details.”

Fuck my life.

CHAPTER TWO

Roman

“WE COULD HAVE taken Cason’s plane,” Peyton says, her lips turned down at the corners, a pouty little frown that shouldn’t arouse me, yet somehow does. Christ, how she makes that petulant look sexy is beyond me, and don’t even get me started on her yoga pants and T-shirt with Save the Bees emblazoned across the front. She always was an activist for any kind of wildlife at risk. “It was all fueled up, ready and waiting for us this morning.”

“Now why would I tie up Cason’s plane when I have a perfectly good plane of my own?” I ask as she drops into the light tan leather bucket seat beside me and crosses her arms in a defensive move. She’s either being very protective of herself, or she’s trying to hide the way her lovely, lush nipples are poking against her thin, summery T-shirt, compliments of the cold air flowing in from the overhead vent. Or maybe they’re hard for a different reason. I’m not sure, but either way my tongue would love to spend some serious time on her body, trying to find out.

Don’t go there, Roman.

Jesus, the last thing I should be thinking about is Peyton’s gorgeous curves, or how everything about her kept me wide-awake last night, my cock hard and needy as visions of her in my bed—my mouth and hands on her delicate skin, devouring every delectable inch of her—filled my thoughts.

Simply put, she used to be Cason’s kid sister. Until she wasn’t. Now, well, now she’s all grown up, with big green eyes and that mess of curly red hair that drives me mad. It’s all I can do not to grab a fistful, tug it until her mouth is poised open and kiss the living hell out of her.

Shit.

She goes quiet as we settle in, making a show of dragging a magazine from her big bag and dropping it on her lap as the plane makes its way down the runway. Her silence is a welcome reprieve. But I won’t think, not even for one minute, that she’ll be quiet for the whole flight. Last night over dinner, she raked me over the coals, nonstop. Christ, she grilled me on everything, and by the time I dropped her off at her condo, I sported more char marks than the porterhouse steak I’d ordered.

The hum of the engine at full throttle fills the cabin, and the second the plane levels off I settle back with my tablet, ready to do some reading and a bit of work on the long flight ahead of us. I blink at the stream of letters before me yet can’t quite seem to focus. I shift and lift my head when I can feel Peyton’s laser-sharp glare burning a hole in my forehead. Jesus, if this plane had an emergency eject seat, and she was near the button, I’d be catapulting through space—violently. Not that I blame her for hating me. It’s what I need from her.

“What now?” I ask, and set my tablet on my lap, realizing just how tightly it was clenched in my hand. I stretch out my