His lips pursed as I threaded my fingers through his. There was a lot going on in those pants … And the press of it against our joined hands was … impressive.

I let a knuckle graze against the bulge, and he hissed. Feeling triumphant, I drew our joined hands out of his pocket.

“I can’t believe you came all the way here to see me!” I gushed, twinkling up at him, before turning to the girls, beaming. If this performance didn’t win me an Oscar nomination, I was screwed. “Simeon’s from a really, really long way away, and long-distance relationships … well, they hardly ever work out, so I didn’t want to jinx things when …”

I let my eyes rove over him in his black dress shirt, splotched with raindrops, the sleeves rolled back, showing off forearms corded with muscle … and black jeans that hugged his thighs and would leave no room for doubt about what the current state of his penile area was … if he didn’t have that other hand still firmly fixed in his pocket.

I glanced back up at his face from under my lashes. His eyes were fixed on me like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.

Perfect.

“… when this is still so new,” I finished in a husky breath.

I reached up on my toes and planted a quick peck on his cheek. He froze. I grinned against his jaw, stubble grazing my lips.

My stomach fluttered. Well, that answered one question I’d had about him. He could grow a beard.

“Aww, you two are adorable!” Sally cooed. “I wondered if maybe he was from abroad. Is English not your first language?”

Satan Junior’s eyes hadn’t left my face, his expression carefully void of emotion. Too carefully.

I was getting under his skin.

Perfect!

“Oh, that’s just one of several … differences … we’re working to overcome,” I replied, matching him stare for stare, raising one eyebrow in challenge. “But you do work hard at these things … when they’re worth it.”

I hoped he understood that I was talking about the ownership of my soul. I would work myself to the bone to earn that sliver back from him … to never let him possess the remainder.

“Oh, what Jemma is giving me is very much worth every second of my time,” he retorted, his smile full of evil intent.

I wanted to knee him in the balls. Did devils even have balls?

Why was I suddenly picturing his testicles? And why did that make me visualise the other part that went hand in hand with them?

And why was I suddenly imagining my hand on that part? That very … meaty part of him, if my quick investigation in his pocket was any indicator.