An Angel for the Devil Read online

  Don’t you dare. She’s innocent. I say the words, anyway, however. I want to drive her away. Now. She caught me with my walls down and that is the ultimate invasion, made worse because I crave it happening again. “I pulled over because I know tight pussy when I see it.” I frame her jaw with my right hand, tilting her blushing face up toward mine. “I’d like to fuck you on all fours, right here in the middle of the road, little girl. Rough as you can stand. Still think I’m a softie?”

  “No,” she gasps, the green of her eyes deepening to a forest shade. “I don’t.”

  I ignore the regret stabbing me in the neck. “Good.”

  She tugs her chin out of my hold, skirts around me and continues walking up the road, arms stiff at her sides. I’m monetarily dumbfounded by the sense of loss I experience without her in front of me—and then I’m turning on a heel, going after her. “Get in the limo. Now.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “How about so you don’t catch pneumonia?” I growl. “Or get kidnapped.”

  “Or roughed up on my hands and knees in the middle of the road?” she inquires primly over her shoulder, hurt dancing in her eyes.

  More regret piles onto my head. “I said I would like to do those things, not that I’m going to,” I say through my teeth, following on her heels. “Stop walking away immediately and tell me your name.”

  “Since you asked so politely, it’s Shelby. Shelby Bishop,” she says, spinning back around to face me. “I don’t understand. Why would you want me to think you’re terrible and rude? Can’t you just be the man who shares his umbrella?”

  “Shelby Bishop.” That name hits me with such an odd sense of déjà vu, I feel slightly dizzy. I shake my head to clear the sensation. “I’m Alistair Kent.”

  She crosses her arms, pursing those bee-stung lips, and my cock turns harder than fucking steel in my slacks. “You didn’t answer my question, Alistair.”

  Is it my imagination or does my name roll off her tongue as if she’s said it a million times? “You asked me a personal question. I don’t answer those.” She starts to turn again, but I catch her by the elbow. “If I make an exception this time, will you get in the limo? I…find myself wanting you warm and fed. Immediately.”

  And spoiled rotten, dripping in diamonds, pearls and my come.

  Some of the ire fades from her eyes. “Everything is ‘immediately’ with you. Do you ever have to wait for anything?”

  “No.” My answer makes her smirk, cross her arms and wait. For the answer to her question, I assume. Can’t you just be the man who shares his umbrella? There is a shard of discomfort in my throat when I answer. “Sharing an umbrella might seem like a small gesture, but it made you expect more from me…emotionally. I have nothing to give in that way.” My jaw is tight enough to shatter. “If you come home with me, however, I have possessions that will make the fact that I’m an asshole seem irrelevant.”

  A line forms between her brows. “You think I won’t mind you being mean just because you have nice things, like a fancy limo?”

  “Exactly.”

  Her smile is tremulous. “You’re wrong.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Prove it. Come with me and stay for a night in my home. I’ll remain my total bastard self while I’m spoiling you silly and we’ll see if you truly want to leave in the morning.”

  Visibly mustering her confidence, she sticks out her hand for a shake. “It’s a deal, Alistair.”

  My hand slides around hers and static ripples up my arm. And since our deal gives me permission to be my typically ruthless self, I pull her up against me roughly, flattening her sweet little tits against my chest. “You just made a deal with the devil, little girl,” I rasp, stooping down and throwing her over my shoulder. With her sputtering in shock, I turn on a heel and stalk back toward the open limousine door, already envisioning her in my home. In my bed. “No going back now.”

  Chapter 3

  Shelby

  It’s incredible how quickly my plan went out the window once I came face to face with the man I’m supposed to be bartering with. My body for our home. Or rather, it’s my mother’s plan I’m failing to execute. She’s the one who dropped me off less than a mile from our landlord’s gated mansion, advising me to walk the road indefinitely in the hopes that Alistair would stop to offer assistance.

  We thought about simply arriving at his home and asking to make the trade, my virginity in exchange for cancelling the eviction, but my mother didn’t think that would work with a man as shrewd as Alistair.

  You’ll have to get under his skin first, honey.

  Make it impossible for him to say no.

  If anyone can do it, it’s you.

  Dripping wet on the expensive leather seat of the limousine, I have no idea if I’m succeeding. Alistair watches me from the dark end of the vehicle, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a frown on his harshly attractive face as he considers me, his fingers in a steeple in front of his mouth.

  He really is mean. Crude. Demanding. He didn’t even recognize my last name—the last name of the family he’s decided to evict.

  But just like always, like every time he’s come to my neighborhood to pick up the rent, I sense there is so much more under the surface. Past all the scar tissue around his heart. Deep down, he’s the kind of man who couldn’t help but hold the umbrella for me.

  When will I know if I’m under his skin?

  Part of me wants to blurt the truth now—that I’m one of the tenants he’s throwing out. That I came to offer him sex to let my family stay. But what if he says no and my time with him is over as quickly as it started? I’ll lose my one and only chance to reach the man beneath the devilish exterior. I’ll miss my opportunity to find out about him. To spend time in the presence of the man I’ve been dreaming about since the first time I saw him.

  Just a little longer. Then I’ll explain.

  I’ll give him the truth and accept his decision.

  The sound of gravel crunching, followed by a mechanical whir, makes me look out the window, finding the limousine pulling through two tall, wrought iron gates. Then we’re speeding up a long, tree-lined driveway, the largest house I’ve ever seen coming into view around the bend. “That’s where you live?” I whisper, turning in the seat. “All by yourself?”

  “God, yes. Blessedly alone.”

  “You never get lonely?”

  “Never.” His eyes are so intense, landing on every part of me at once, his hand reaching down to adjust his gold belt buckle. “It’s what I’m used to. I don’t know anything else. Being lonely would never occur to me.”

  That sounds terribly sad to me, but I keep my sympathy to myself, sensing it wouldn’t be well received. “Sometimes I like being alone, too. I sneak into my mother’s closet to write in my diary.” I stumble over the last word, worried I’ve said something that might reveal me as a tenant. This man doesn’t know the people who live in his buildings, though. All we are is numbers in a ledger to him. He has no idea about the people who live within the walls. “I think nothing can be better than the silence, but then I open the closet door and smell my mother’s roast chicken. And I hear my brothers arguing over the remote and it’s…home.”

  “How very nice for you.” He shifts in his seat. “It occurs to me that I haven’t asked your age. If you’re still writing in a diary, perhaps you’re younger than I thought.”

  “I’m eighteen.” My cheeks heat at the accusation that my favorite hobby makes me immature. “People of all ages can write in a diary.”

  Silence ticks by. Then, “I suppose you’re right.” He clears his throat hard. “If people such as war generals or ancient philosophers didn’t write in diaries, we’d be missing chunks of history.”

  The temperature of my face cools.

  Does Alistair realize he said that to make me feel better? The answer could be yes or no, based on his scowl. “Isn’t there something you do to relax and collect your thoughts?” I ask.

  An
evil smile curls his upper lip. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?” My breath draws short, even though I don’t know exactly what he’s referring to. I only sense it’s sexual in nature. Before I can question him, he laughs under his breath and continues. “I could tell you I swim in my pool, play tennis on my courts or travel, but I’d be lying. I get pleasure out of buying real estate and making money. That’s it. I don’t need anything else.”

  The limousine stops at that exact moment.

  We stare at each other from a few feet apart until the driver opens the door and Alistair alights, holding his hand out through the opening and waiting for me to take it. Which I do. And then I’m a sopping wet mess with sloshing shoes, climbing the steps to a palatial mansion.

  My heart races in my chest at the very notion of going inside. It’s bigger than all of the buildings on my block combined, and then some. There are no flourishes or homey touches on the outside. It is strict red brick and wrought iron. A tall, imposing door that sweeps open when we approach, a housekeeper with a stiff upper lip stepping aside to allow us entry.

  Alistair takes hold of my wrist and guides me over the threshold, speaking briskly to the perfectly coiffed older woman. “This is Shelby. She will be staying with me tonight. She’s to have whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. Is that clear?”

  “Very clear, sir.” The housekeeper turns to me, showing no reaction to my wet clothing. “Is there anything I can get you, miss?”

  I start to decline, of course. I’ve been raised to do things for myself and my elders. Not the other way around. But Alistair did promise to spoil me silly and there are two words that have been whispering in my head since he uttered them in the limousine. Swimming pool.

  “I would love to go swimming,” I blurt.

  Alistair pauses in the act of removing his jacket. “Now? Wouldn’t you rather get warm after being in the rain?”

  “That does sound nice, but…I’ve never seen a swimming pool at someone’s house before. Well, only on television.” Feeling kind of pathetic, I hug my elbows tightly. “There’s a community pool near…near where I live, but it’s always packed. You can’t swim two feet without running into someone and the chemicals burn my eyes. I just thought it would be nice, if it’s not any trouble.”

  Alistair is looking at me strangely, in a way I can’t decipher. “Of course it’s not any trouble.” I get the impression he meant that to sound snappier than it did. “We’ll require a warm towel downstairs, Pauline. And a robe.”

  “Yes, sir. Shall I find a bathing suit for Miss Shelby?”

  A muscle ticks in his cheek, those predatory eyes raking down the front of my indecently see-through dress. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Chapter 4

  Alistair

  Why does this girl insist on trying to endear herself to me?

  She gasps at the sight of my living room and the downstairs kitchen on our way to the pool, stopping to gawk and turn in slow circles. Stumbling into furniture because she’s so distracted by the chandeliers mounted to the high ceilings. I don’t like the way my chest tightens over these things. It’s odd and alarming.

  Who is this girl?

  I want to know everything about her, down to her blood type, but at the same time, I’m terrified of knowing too much. Making her too real to me. I’m already way outside of my comfort zone having her in my home for the night. I told myself I just wanted to fuck her, but here I am, giving her a tour of my house. Needing to see her swimming. Wanting to give her this thing she’s been deprived of.

  Those urges are a warning sign that this girl is creeping into uncharted territory. I learned a long time ago that personal attachments are a weakness. A desire for affection, connection with another person, only leads to disappointment. So I need to remind her that’s not going to happen—and remind myself in the process. It’s for both of our own good.

  We walk into the downstairs solarium and the evening lights go on automatically, turning the pool to an iridescent shade of green, illuminating the greenery surrounding the oval shaped pool. A touch of humidity lingers in the air, so I start to loosen my collar, my actions pausing to take in Shelby’s reaction.

  “Your pool is inside?” Her green eyes sparkle with wonder, hands clasped beneath her chin. “This…this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been.”

  Jesus.

  For me, it’s her.

  She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  I’m being jabbed in the throat by an invisible object.

  This won’t do. This isn’t good.

  “Come here,” I order, crooking a finger at her.

  My rough tone causes her to jolt a little, but she closes the distance between us, stopping in between me and the edge of the pool. Bathed in the greenish glow of the pool, she’s somehow become even more enchanting, but I ignore the pressing impulse to kiss the girl, turning her around instead and unzipping her dress.

  “What are you doing?” she asks breathily.

  “You’re not going to swim in clothes, are you?”

  “Um. I, um…”

  “No. You’re not.” I peel the damp garment down past her shoulders, groaning inwardly at the perfect slope of her bare back, the indent of her spine, the swell of her hips as I drag the dress over them, revealing an ass that turns my cock to fucking lead. Never in history has there been a more exquisitely formed human. The nude-colored thong is buried between her butt cheeks, as if it wants inside that asshole as badly as my dick does.

  Nothing can stop my palms from skimming up her sides, watching goosebumps prickle her skin as I cup her tits from behind, kneading them firmly, the swell of her nipples against my palms nearly causing me to ejaculate.

  Absently, I notice the housekeeper entering the pool area with the towel and robe I requested, but I make no move to stop touching Shelby, who sucks in a breath at the intrusion and tries to push away my hands.

  No way that’s happening. I draw her back against me and massage her sweet breasts with twice as much possession. “This is my house. I do whatever I want inside of it.” I place my hot, open mouth on the side of her neck, feel her shiver. “Didn’t I warn you I was a bastard, Shelby?”

  “Alistair?” she whispers shakily.

  I strum her perked-up nipples, stepping forward to tuck that tight ass of hers into my lap, humping it slowly, groaning. “Yes?”

  “Are we…is this sex?” Color rides up the back of her neck into her blonde hair. “Are we having sex right now?”

  I’m stunned into silence, my hands stilling. “Are you serious?”

  “I know it usually happens in the dark.” Her words rush out in a tangle. “But it could happen in the light, right? Whatever it is.”

  It takes a lot of willpower to stop playing with her gorgeous set of tits, but I drop my hands away, turning her around to face me. The pretty flush in her cheeks makes it difficult to swallow and again, that warning siren goes off in my mind. But I have to ignore it for now, because it appears this girl I picked up on the side of the road is completely ignorant of intercourse. Jesus. Does it make me sick to be turned on knowing I’ll be the first man to give her pleasure?

  “Shelby, believe me. You’ll know when we’re having sex,” I say for her ears alone, waiting for Pauline to leave the room before continuing. Taking Shelby’s hand in mine, I guide it down to my cock, hissing a breath when she feels me out of curiosity. “You’ll know because that is going to be inside of you.” I transfer her touch to the seam of her panties, rubbing her fingers there and listening to her whimper. “Here, baby. I’ll be deep inside this.”

  She exhales in a rush. “My…m-my mother didn’t tell me. She must have assumed I knew…”

  “Maybe she planned to have the talk soon. Maybe she thought there was time.” I press her fingers to her clit, teasing it through her panties. “She couldn’t have known you were going to run into the devil on the side of the road.”

  “Stop saying you’re t
he devil,” she gasps, eyes glazing over.

  “It’s true,” I growl, shoving a hand into her panties and gripping her pussy. “But this is going to bring me to heaven for a while, isn’t it?”

  Struggling to breathe, Shelby pushes away from me, looking like she’s going to run. Christ, I wouldn’t even blame her. I’m being an outright motherfucker to this sweet angel. But she has to know, dammit. There is nothing here for her. I’m a vessel that is only designed to carry hate. And yet, I think if she runs, I’ll chase her and apologize. I don’t understand what the hell she’s doing to me.

  Before I can guess her intentions, she turns and jumps into the swimming pool. Her blonde hair reaches up toward the surface, her limbs slipping through the water gracefully, making her look more ethereal than ever. I can still feel the shape of her pussy in my hand and with an urgent sound, I rub that palm against the distended fly of my pants, on the verge of coming just thinking about Shelby in my bed, her thighs spread for my enjoyment. God, I’m going to—”

  Why hasn’t she come back up yet?

  My heart misses a beat and begins to speed out of control. She’s been under the surface for how long? A good twenty seconds? Edging toward thirty? She mentioned a community pool where she lives but never said if she could swim. What if she usually only wades in the shallow end? My entire pool is ten feet deep.

  “Shelby,” I shout, already stripping off my shirt. Shoes are kicked off and I’m diving into the water, fear icing my veins. Adrenaline propels me toward her. I don’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her middle and kick for the surface, already anticipating mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

  Why didn’t I ask her if she could swim? I did this, by trying to drive home how irredeemable I am. She had to jump into the fucking water just to get away from me.

  We reach the edge of the pool and I place her carefully on the side, climbing out after her, kneeling down on the cold stone, dizzy with worry. “Dammit, Shelby.” With unsteady hands, I tilt her head back, getting ready to blow breath into her lungs. “I’m sorry. Don’t do this to me.”