The Devil s Obsession 1st Edition

Emma Bray
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The Devil’s Obsession
EMMA BRAY
Copyright © 2022 by Emma Bray

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Chapter One

Warren

THIS IS A BUNCH OF BULLSHIT. I scowl down at the party going on below me. This
isn't my scene at all, but according to my pain-in-the-ass PR manager, this is necessary for business.
I call bullshit. I'm the one who keeps this business running. I'm the owner. We’re a financial
corporation for fuck's sake—not a fucking club.
But every year on Halloween, Matt insists on turning an entire level of my high rise into the hot
spot of the city. There’s a mixture of college kids and old businessmen down there, and my lips twist
again at the sight.
“Oh, come on. It's not that bad,” Matt says to my right. “Would it kill you to go down there and
have a little bit of fun? God knows you need to let loose. Who knows? You might dislodge that stick
that’s up your ass.”
I shoot a glare Matt's way. He just grins at me like a fucking fool. He knows he's the only one who
could ever get away with talking to me like that.
“Besides,” he goes on, ribbing me even further, “what would a Halloween party be without an
appearance from the devil?”
“You're trying my patience, motherfucker,” I grit out to him.
We go through this song and dance every year. He insists on throwing this huge Halloween party
for all of our current and potential clients—and apparently half the college sector of the city—and I
stay up here in my office and glower down at the scene while he tries to lure me out to make an
appearance. I usually do walk in just long enough to appease the papers and whatever marketing
scheme Matt has going on. He swears it works, and maybe it does. I don't know. I don't read the
papers. I don't give a rat's ass what they say about me. All I care about is the numbers.
That's what I'm good at. Numbers. Mergers. Growing my company. Making so much money it
should be illegal.
Despite the fact that they call me the devil, I don't get my gains via nefarious means.
No, I make sure my company is completely on the up-and-up. There are no shady business deals
here. Everything is done by the book.
Yes, money is nice and all, but that's not even what it's about for me. I crave the challenge. I like
keeping busy. It gives me something to do and gets me out of my head. Plus, when you're successful
and powerful, no one can step on you. If you've got enough money, you can rule the world, and while
maybe I don't rule the world, I definitely rule my little kingdom here in the city.
“You would think people would have enough sense not to tangle with the devil,” I grumble.
Matt throws his head back and laughs a big booming laugh that grates on my nerves. The fucker is
annoying as hell. He’d better be glad he’s good at his job. That’s the only reason I keep him around.
“Admit it, man. You do it to yourself by keeping to yourself so much. You create this elusive aura
of mystery that the public loves. They thrive off that shit. Especially the ladies.” He waggles his
eyebrows at me.
My scowl deepens. That’s the last thing I'm interested in. I don't have time for women, especially
ones who only see dollar signs when they look at me.
I'm tired of this shit. I'm tired of doing things just to keep up with appearances and to indulge
Matt's marketing schemes. I'm about ready to tell him he can go straight to hell when something on the
floor below catches my eye.
No, not something. Someone.
I go completely still as I watch the tiny woman walk into the room. She's with a group of women,
and they're all talking and laughing with each other the way girls do when they travel in a pack, but
not her.
She smiles at them and glances around the room. Something about her is set apart from them, and
it’s not just the way she’s dressed more conservatively than them either.
No, she almost seems to glow with her own inner light, like there’s something special about her.
I don't even notice what the other girls look like because my gaze is zeroed in on her. She has
honey-colored hair that flows down her back in sensuous waves. I can't make out the color of her eyes
up here, but I can already see how puffy they are.
She’s wearing a strapless, peach-colored dress that looks way too classy for the kind of party
she's at. Her friends are all wearing miniskirts that will show their asses if they so much as sneeze,
but this girl's dress flares out around her thighs. It’s cut well about her knees and shows off her slim
yet curvy legs.
She’s nowhere near as scantily clad as the other girls on the dance floor, yet she somehow looks
even more erotic for it.
She looks young—too young—sweet and innocent. But I know she's got to be at least eighteen or
she wouldn't have been admitted into this party.
My eyes rove over her exposed flesh. She's a tiny little thing, but her legs seem to go on forever.
She flips her hair behind her shoulder, and I watch as the honey-colored waves ripple like silk. My
hands twitch at my sides with the undeniable urge to glide my fingers through the strands and see if
they feel just as soft and silky as they look.
My chest tightens as I continue to gaze at her, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of my blood rushing
through my veins.
I'm not old by any means. I'm only thirty-one, but she looks so young, so beautiful.
Like an angel.
This girl is making me feel things I've never felt before, and my chest heaves.
I ball my hands into fists as I stare down at her, my jaw tight. I want to go down there and throw
her over my shoulder and stomp away with her. Take her somewhere where no one can look at her but
me. I want to both spank her little ass for showing so much skin and fall to her feet and worship her
like she's my new religion.
“Hello?” Matt calls my attention back to him.
I snap my head up to look over at my head of PR, my scow fixed firmly back in place. I'm more
irritated than ever that he pulled my attention away from her.
“What the fuck is up with you man?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere.” I down the rest of my brandy before I turn and start heading for the door. “Well, let's
get this shit over with,” I growl.
I feel him gaping at me, probably surprised that it didn't take more coaxing to get me to go down
to the party. I can't really blame him. He usually has to spend much longer trying to convince me to do
my duty as host.
What he doesn't know is the only reason I'm going down there at all is because I feel like I'll die if
I don't find out who this girl is and what color her eyes are.

Faith

“Oh my god! It's really him!” Sarah speaks directly into my ear to be heard over the loud thump of the
music.
My brow furrows as I turn to her. “Who?”
She nods toward the doorway where several people are already looking. “The devil himself.”
I laugh at her silliness, but she's not laughing. Her eyes are serious, and her gaze is honed in on the
figure standing in the doorway.
“The devil, you say?” I joke, but she doesn't even crack a smile. Instead, without ever taking her
eyes off the man walking into the room, she says dreamily, “Oh my god, isn't he the most handsome
guy you've ever seen in your entire life? I wonder if he’s really as terrifying as they say?”
I finally turn my entire body to get a good look at this man that everyone seems to be gaping at. My
breath catches when my eyes his through the crowd. They’re an icy blue that pierces me like shards of
glass. Their blueness seems starker against his jet-black hair that's waving stylishly back from his
face. An errant lock falls on his forehead in that careless way that men's hair does, and he lifts a hand
and runs his fingers through the locks. They ripple with hints of blue under the flashing lights.
His jaw is strong with a light dusting of stubble lining it. It only seems to give him a darker allure
rather than a haphazard appearance. He still looks completely put together in his suit that no doubt
cost more than a month's worth of rent for me.
Sarah's not lying. He probably is the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in my life, but just who is
he, and why do they call him the devil?
And why in the hell is he staring directly at me?
I feel my cheeks flush, and the crowd parts to make way for him. I could be wrong, but it looks
like he's walking straight toward me, his gaze pinned intently on me. I look to the left and right and
even behind me to see if there's someone else he could be zeroed in on.
When I turn back around, he's even closer to me, and it becomes apparently clear that I am his
target.
“Oh my god!” Sarah squeals into my ear as she grips my arm the closer he gets to me. “Do you
know him?”
I shake my head at her. “No. Who is he? Why do they call him the devil?”
 Before she gets a chance to answer, he's standing right in front of us. Sarah lets out a little squeak
and steps behind me—the traitorous bitch—leaving me completely at his mercy.
For a moment, we seem to be suspended in time with him staring down at me intensely, his eyes
blazing at me like twin flames.
My breath is so shallow I hear it coming out in wispy little pants in my ears. I probably look like
I'm hyperventilating or something.
“Hazel,” he murmurs.
My brow furrows in confusion. Does he have me confused with someone else? Is that what this is
about? “What?”
He doesn't answer me. Instead, his eyes sweep over me from the top of my head to the tips of my
toes before they come back up to capture my eyes again. “What's your name?” his voice comes out
gruff and commanding.
I blink at his abrupt tone and take a step back. “You first,” I challenge him.
He raises an eyebrow in surprise as if he's not used to being questioned or denied anything, but
then his lip twitches before he tells me, “Warren. Now yours, angel princess.”
My cheeks flame with the endearment and the way it comes out sounding like a caress.
“Faith.”
He repeats my name in a voice that’s contemplative as his eyes study my face again.
“Are you the devil?” I suddenly blurt out.
My face colors when I realize how ridiculous that sounded. What I meant to ask him was why they
call him the devil. Why the hell it came out like that, I'll never know.
His lips stretch into a full smile, a wicked gleam lighting his eyes as he retorts back, “Are you an
angel?”
My mouth falls open, and for once in my life, I'm rendered speechless. I let out a breathy laugh
that sounds nothing like me as I stammer for something to say. This insanely gorgeous man has caught
me completely off guard.
“Warren!” A man calls his name from behind us. Warren’s face dips into a scowl before he turns
and glances over his shoulder.
And I don't know why, but I feel the sudden urge to hurry up and get out of here. I take the
opportunity of Warren’s attention being fixated elsewhere to turn and push my way through the throng
of people.
My entire body is shaking and feels like it’s on fire. It’s like I've been hit with an electric current,
and while part of my instincts is telling me to get as far away from him as I can, another part is
braying against me and telling me to turn around and go back and find out more about the tall, dark,
handsome stranger.
I’ve never been a coward, but this man has me all tied up in knots and totally unlike myself. I'm
usually so witty and outspoken, but he has me feeling tongue-tied, and that makes me extremely
uncomfortable. I don't know what to do with it.
I don't know how to act, so I run, telling myself that it's for the best and that, thankfully, I'll never
have to see him ever again.
Even as relief courses through me, I also feel a pang the more distance I put between us.
I'm not an angel, and I don't know why he called me that.
I'm a coward.
Chapter Two

Warren

I SCOWL and swipe my hand across the desk, knocking papers and everything on my desk to the
floor. The crash does nothing to abate my aggravation. I've been in a piss-poor mood ever since the
night of that fucking party.
The night that sweet little angel—Faith—ran from me. I guess I really must be the devil that they
call me. All it took was one look and she was running the other way.
I don't know why it bothers me so much. I've never given a shit whether anyone liked me before or
not. But something about turning around to find her gone and to see her slipping away through the
crowd cut me.
It's for the best, really. I should just let it go. But fuck it, how can I whenever I see her every time I
close my eyes? I see those hazel orbs. I see that honey-colored hair flowing down her back. I see her
tight, young body in that strapless peach dress. I see those legs that are too long for such an
impossibly short girl.
I dream of what her naked breasts and sweet pussy look like.
Oh, I already know everything about her. Faith Ellison. Twenty-one. Business major at NYU. I
pulled every file I could find on her, from her medical records to her school history. There's nothing
about Faith Ellison that I don't know, except for the knowledge that I can't get via third-party sources
—like what she's thinking in that pretty little head of hers.
I know which apartment she rents with three other coeds. They all rent a quaint little house near
the university together.
I know the girls’ names just because I wanted to know the names of everyone around my Faith, but
I can't even recall them now. They're irrelevant.
My scowl deepens when I realize I just referred to her as my Faith in my head. It's obvious by the
way she ran from me like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels that she's not my anything and
doesn't want to be.
A growl rumbles up out of me at the thought that she abhors me so much she would run from me
after scarcely meeting me.
She's too fucking young for me anyway. I'm a decade older than her. Not exactly old enough to be
her father but old enough to raise a few eyebrows—not that I give a flying fuck what anyone thinks.
At least she's legal. I swear the girl doesn't look to be more than a teenager, and I should feel like
a pervert for being so attracted to her, but fuck it. I open up the latest file that my PI sent me, my
computer being the only thing I didn’t sling off my desk in my frustration.
I've been doing this every day for the past week. At the end of every workday, I’ll pull up the
latest file on Faith and torture myself with the candid shots my PI snapped of her while monitoring her
for me.
There's one of her in the cafeteria with her friends. There's one of her walking down the hallway
of the Econ building.
My grip tightens on the mouse when I open up the next photo, and it's one of her with her head
falling back, laughing as some college fuckboy says something to her.
My grip is so tight on the mouse, I'm surprised I don't bust the fucker. I saw no evidence of her
having a boyfriend, but of course, these young fucking college dudes are hitting on her. They'd have to
be blind and dumb not to. She's an angel. She's beautiful.
My jaw tightens as I stare at the blonde-headed fucker. He looks like the typical all-American
golden boy. I'd bet my left nut he's a football player.
My eyes hone back in on Faith, and my chest tightens at how beautiful she looks with her hair
tumbling over her shoulders as she laughs. She’s wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of leggings,
but she still somehow manages to look classy.
I study her mouth that’s stretched into a wide smile as she laughs. Her pretty eyes are crinkled up,
but I can still see flecks of hazel peeking through them.
Before I can even register what I'm doing, I fling the mouse across the room just as Matt opens the
door.
“Whoa!” He ducks, barely missing it. The mouse hits the wall behind him and thuds onto the
ground in the hallway. “What the fuck has gotten into you? This is extreme—even for you.”
Instead of answering him, I glower at him. “What the fuck do you want?”
He raises an eyebrow and for once keeps his mouth shut, perhaps sensing that I'm in no mood for
his fuckery today.
“I thought I'd run a list of things by you,” he says cautiously as he hands me a piece of paper.
My frown deepens when I look down at the list. “What is all this shit?” I gesture to it.
“Well, seeing as how the other firms are doing something to give back to the community, I thought
it would be good PR for us to do the same.”
“I just hosted that ridiculous fucking Halloween party. Since when is that not good enough?” I
growl.
Matt drums his fingers on the side of my desk. My eyes flick to his drumming fingers and darken.
His fingers still mid-drum when his eyes meet my pupils. He knows how much I hate that shit, and
today is not the day to push me.
“I'm just saying, Monroe is stepping up his game, so we should probably do the same.”
“What's he doing?” I ask from between gritted teeth. Monroe is my biggest competition, and the
exact opposite of me in every way. Whereas I try my best to stay out of the limelight, he basks in it.
Whereas they call me the devil, they revere him like he’s a god. He’s another one of those golden
boys with his classic good looks and blonde hair.
“Well, last I heard, he's hosting an internship for the college, giving one lucky student a chance of
a lifetime.”
He shoots me a look, and I'm already shaking my head adamantly. “No fucking way. There's no
way I want some fucking college kid shadowing my every footstep. It’s not going to happen, Matt.”
Matt shrugs casually before he adds, “Look, I know you hate to people, but it might not be as bad
as you imagine. A little birdy tells me the student who Monroe is thinking about extending the offer to
is the best in her class.”
I lean back in my chair and scowl at Matt again. “And why do I give a fuck about this?”
Matt shrugs again before he drops a name that has me going completely still in my seat. “I don't
know. Just forget I said anything. You’re right. It’s not your type of thing. It's just some girl named
Faith Ellison. She’d probably be in your way.”
Matt casts a knowing glance my way and I steel my jaw. Matt has always been a meddling
motherfucker, and it shouldn't surprise me he knows about my fixation with the girl—especially since
he witnessed me talking to her at the fucking Halloween party.
I'm simmering with rage at the thought of her working closely with Monroe, though, so much so
that I don't even have time to focus on being pissed off at Matt.
“Get out,” I growl at him.
Matt wisely turns on his heel to obey me without question as I slide the papers he dropped off to
me across the desk and start going over them.
My heart hammers against my ribcage as I flex my fingers into fists over and over again. What is it
about this girl that gets me so worked up? I don't know but I know one motherfucking thing.
There is no way in hell I'm going to let her be Monroe's intern.
Over my dead body.

Faith

“Are you kidding? Of course I'll take it!” I squeal over the phone to my advisor. She just called to tell
me that I’ve been hand-selected for an internship at Foxworth Financial.
Of course, at the mention of the firm’s name, my mind immediately goes back to that Halloween
party and the darkly handsome man Sarah had called the devil. I haven't had a chance to speak to her
since the party since we've both been busy with our classes and are on completely different
schedules, but I shrugged it off and told myself that it didn't matter anyway. It's not like I’ll ever see
that guy again. What do I care about some super handsome dude who's probably some spoiled
socialite that they call the devil? If they call him that, it's probably not for anything good.
I can't believe I'm being offered an internship at the biggest financial firm in the city. This is
groundbreaking and will catapult my career from the jump. I'll be good to go fresh out of the gate.
“So, what does this entail? When do I start?” I hit my advisor with a barrage of questions, and she
laughs happily for me on the other end of the phone.
That's one thing I love about my advisor. She's always been my biggest cheerleader and is always
looking for the best opportunities for me. I really lucked out when I got her.
“Why don't you ask Mr. Foxworth all of that yourself? He didn't send over too much information.
Just an urgent message that he wanted to meet with you today.”
“Today?” I squeak out in alarm. “When today?”
“As soon as possible,” she answers back.
“Oh shit,” I curse, and then when I realize I've just cursed in front of my advisor, I wince. “Oh
shit. Sorry!” I apologize when I realize I’ve done it yet again.
She just laughs. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she assures me. “Get ready, and scoot your
butt on over to Foxworth Industries as soon as you can get there. I don't know if you've heard or not,
but Mr. Foxworth isn't a man who likes to be kept waiting.”
“Okay, yeah,” I tell her before hanging up and moving to get my ass in gear. I don't know who this
Mr. Foxworth guy is, but surely, he can't be any worse than the darkly handsome stranger—Warren—
the man they call the devil.
Even though I keep trying to forget him, my curiosity about the darkly handsome stranger is still
piqued, and I'm irritated that he's flashed into my mind even now in this moment that should be all
about me and my career.
I shake thoughts of his icy blue eyes from my head and jump over to the closet to see what I have
clean. I chew on my lip as I study my options. The only things I have clean are a few dresses. My eyes
flick to the pile of laundry in my laundry basket. Both my sensible navy and black dresses are in there.
The only other thing that's even halfway acceptable is a vibrant red dress. I continue to worry my lip
between my teeth as I consider my options—which are really none.
It looks like I'm going to have to wear the red dress. It might be too bold for a first impression, but
it's certainly better than showing up in a pair of jeans or leggings and a slouchy off-the-shoulder top,
so let's just hope that my new boss sees it as a move of confidence rather than what it really is—a
stupid coed who hasn't had time to do her laundry yet.
I throw on the dress and a sensible pair of black pumps before I gather my mass of hair together
and twist it into a bun at the nape of my neck.
A few stubborn tendrils break free, and I struggle to make them lay flat but finally give up,
knowing that they'll only break free again on my walk downtown.
I step back and give myself a critical once-over in the mirror. This is about as good as I'm going
to get, so it'll have to do.
I wish I had more time to do a bit of research on Foxworth Industries and its owner, but I've got to
jet it out of here if I'm going to get there as quickly as he wants me. It’s probably not a good idea to
keep my impatient boss waiting on the first day.
And isn't this the mark of a successful businessperson? Being able to adapt to make yourself
available at the drop of a hat? Besides, there's no need for me to do a bunch of digging. I'll find out
who the man over the most successful financial firm in the city is soon enough.
Another shiver of excitement goes through me. I can't believe my good luck. This is like a
scholarship I didn't have to apply for. I was hand-selected, and that makes me glow with pride. I must
have stood out amongst my peers, and that gives me some validation. I work my ass off, and it looks
like it really is paying off. Now, I just have to prove that Mr. Foxworth did the right thing by singling
me out for this internship.
Chapter Three

Warren

I AM NOT the kind of man who’s given to anxiety. I didn't get to where I am today by being a
bundle of nerves, but dammit if I'm not pacing back and forth across my office like an overexcited
schoolboy on his first date as I wait for Faith to show up.
I keep checking my watch. It's not even been an hour since I summoned her, so I know I'm being
ridiculous, but I feel like I'm on pins and needles as I wait for her arrival.
Finally, my secretary buzzes me. “Mr. Foxworth, there’s a Faith Ellison here to see you.”
I click the button to answer her back, “Send her in, Georgia.”
I'm in the process of standing when Faith walks slowly through the doorway.
I have to brace myself at the sight of her. I clutch desperately at the edge of my desk when I see
what she's wearing.
It's a little red number that stops just below her knees. It hugs every curve of her tiny form and
dips down to show the slightest bit of cleavage. Something about it being long sleeves, but yet
revealing her legs and that slight bit of chest makes it look even more forbidden.
Her hair is twisted up in the back, and while I love the way her hair tumbles down around her
shoulders, she's just as beautiful with it tied up like this, especially with the tendrils softly framing
her face. It makes those hazel eyes framed by thick dark lashes stand out even more.
I’m assaulted by the look of her in person. She's beautiful in pictures. I have every curve of her
body committed to memory by now, but it's so much different seeing her in the flesh like this.
She assaults my senses. I can smell her sweet berry scent all the way across my office. It calls to
something primal within me, and I feel my cock swelling in my slacks. I readjust my suit coat to hide
my growing bulge before I come out from behind the desk.
“Faith Ellison…”
Her eyes widen as she looks up at me, her mouth falling open into a little “o” that I want to stuff
my cock in.
“You,” she whispers.
I raise an eyebrow and can't help the slight smirk that overtakes my face. I'm pleased beyond
measure that she at least remembers me. I half expected her not to.
My smirk turns into a frown when I recall the way she ran from me. If the way she ran from me is
any indication, her memory of me probably isn't as glowing as mine is of her.
 “Warren Foxworth,” I formally introduce myself as I hold out my hand to her. I’m willing to take
any excuse I can to touch her.
She looks down at my hand like it's a snake that's going to bite her before she slowly reaches out
and places hers in mine. I marvel at the feeling of her small palm in my grip, tingles shooting up my
arm at the first brush of her skin against mine.
I swear nothing like this has ever happened to me before. No one has ever affected me this way.
“You’re Mr. Foxworth?” she whispers.
I don't know how to feel at this newfound knowledge that she didn't already know who I was. I
had half hoped that the only reason she ran from me back at the party was because my reputation
preceded me, but now I just feel like shit because it looks like that had nothing to do with why she ran
from me.
That bothers me.
Her brow furrows. “Am I in the right place?” she asks uncertainly.
My hand tightens around hers as I unconsciously pull her a step closer. “Yes, you are.” My voice
comes out as a growl, and I see her eyes widen.
Dammit, I really need to work on my surly disposition. Maybe Matt has been right about me all
along if I can't even say the simplest things without eliciting a look of fear on this sweet girl's face.
I clear my throat and attempt to speak in a more normal voice. “You’re my new intern.”
Faith blinks then. It’s as if the word “intern” has snapped her back to reality. She straightens her
shoulders and pulls her hand from mine before she takes a step back and attempts to act professional.
“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Foxworth—”
I interrupt her immediately. “Warren,” I insist.
“What?”
I can’t stop staring at all the colors in her eyes.
“Call me Warren,” I murmur as I try to decide if her eyes are more green or golden.
“I don’t think that's appropriate,” she ventures cautiously.
I continue to look down into her hazel eyes, and I can't stop myself. I close the distance between
us and place my hands on her waist.
Her eyes widen as I tell her huskily, “I don’t give a damn about what's appropriate, Faith. I want
to hear my name dripping from your lips when you speak to me. I’m Warren to you. Do you
understand me?”
She stares up at me, two pink blotches on her cheeks. She blinks and shakes her head. “Why me?
Why did you give me this internship?”
She tries to pull away from me, but I keep a firm grip on her, irrational panic flooding my chest at
the thought that she's going to run from me again.
“Because I couldn't stand the thought of you interning for that fucking prick, Monroe.”
Her brow furrows in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
I realize my slip-up at the exact moment comprehension dawns on her face. “So, you only offered
me this internship because Monroe Industries was going to offer me one and you didn't want me
working for Mr. Monroe. Why?” she asks again.
“Because he's an entitled prick who would have been trying to bend you over his desk on day
one,” I grit out, my fingers tightening on her waist possessively.
Her eyes flick down to my hands before she plants her hands firmly on my chest and pushes me
away from her.
I’m so shocked by the pleasant feeling of her tiny hands on my chest that I allow her to do it. My
hands fall from their hold on her waist. Her eyes are flashing fire as she crosses her arms and looks
up at me. “So, what is this? Some little competition you have going on with Mr. Monroe, and I’m just
a pawn in you two’s sick game? I thought I was here based on my merit.”
I exhale heavily and run a hand through my hair in irritation. “You are here because of your
merit.”
She narrows her eyes at me suspiciously, and I'm quick to add, “I've seen your transcripts, Faith.
You really are the top of your class and the only one I would offer an internship to.”
I mean it too. Her work is impressive, but the main reason I offered her an internship is to get
closer to her.
“Mr. Foxworth—"
“Warren,” I growl out.
She cuts her eyes at me before she corrects herself, “Warren, I don't know if this is such a good
idea—”
“Why did you run from me?” I interrupt her and ask her the question I’m dying to know the answer
to. Dammit, this isn’t how I planned this to go. Hell, I don’t know what I planned, but it doesn’t matter
anyway because this girl makes the normally calm, cool, and collected Warren Foxworth who’s so
cold in his business dealings go out the window.
Her eyes widen. “What?” she asks me in a shaky little voice.
“That night a week ago. The Halloween party. I came up to talk to you. I turned my head for one
moment. When I turned back around, you were running away from me. Did I do something to scare
you? You asked me if I was the devil,” I grumble. “I assumed that meant you knew who I was and that
my reputation preceded me.”
She bites her lip and looks away from me.
I tip her chin up to force her to meet my eyes. Her hazel orbs look so vulnerable and unsure. It
causes protectiveness to surge up within me.
“Or was it just me you were scared of?” I ask her softly, hating the thought that I scared her. I
don’t care if I put the fear of Satan in other people but not her. I never want to scare this precious
angel.
She holds my gaze bravely as she finally admits in a breathy little voice, “I don't know, okay? You
made me speechless, and that's never happened to me before. I guess I just didn't know what to do
with it. I guess it kind of freaked me out.”
“I made you speechless.” I can't help feeling a flicker of pride at the thought that I managed to do
anything to this girl that no one else has ever done. “Why did I make you speechless?”
“I don't know.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “There you were, this tall, dark, handsome stranger
who everyone called the devil, and you'd honed your gaze in on me, and I didn't even know who you
were.”
My heart does a somersault in my chest. She just admitted to being attracted to me. “How did you
know I was called the devil if you didn’t know who I was?”
“My friend. She told me the moment you entered the room.” Her cheeks burn, and she tries to
extricate herself from my grip. “This is completely inappropriate. There's no way I can intern for you
now.”
“So then don't.”
Her eyes flash up to mine.
“You don't have to intern with me,” I elaborate. “I'll still teach you anything you want to know.” I
don’t do it intentionally, but my voice drops a note at the thought of teaching her. There are so many
things I want to teach her.
She must pick up on the innuendo in it too because her cheeks flame again. She’s so motherfucking
pretty, it hurts to look at her.
“Why?” she asks again, the confusion evident in her tone. I let my eyes rove over her face again
before I answer. She looks so sweet. So beautiful. So perfect. So good.
“Because every devil needs an angel,” I finally say.

Faith

I stare up at Warren’s icy blue eyes. It feels like they’re searing through me and seeing all the parts of
me I keep hidden even from myself.
I squirm under his potent gaze and frown. “So, I don’t understand.” I shake my head in confusion.
“You don’t want me as an intern?” Why the hell did he drag me down here then?
Warren’s eyes flare with blue fire again before he takes a predatory step closer to me.
“My sweet girl,” he croons at me in a voice smooth as velvet, “let me make myself clear if I
haven’t already. I don’t give a fuck about having an intern. I want you. Any way I can get you.”
My breath hitches, and my cheeks flare at both his words and the look in his eyes.
“So, this was all just a trick to get me here?”
His lips thin before he growls, “No. I never meant to trick you, but I can’t have you interning with
Monroe. He’s not a good man, Faith.”
Goosebumps break out over my skin at the way he says my name. “And you are?” I challenge him.
He can’t be that great of a man if everyone calls him the devil.
“No.”
I blink at his admission.
“I’m not a good man,” he goes on in that deeply seductive voice of his. “But at least I’m honest
about it. They don’t call me the devil for nothing, angel princess. I’m a temperamental bastard, a
cutthroat businessman. I’ll stop at nothing to get what I want.”
His eyes pin me in their gaze, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I’m what he wants and
that he’ll stop at nothing to get me.
Maybe I should be offended by the implication, but a part of me thrills at it. This powerful, sexy
business tycoon has decided he wants me—so much so that he can’t stand the thought of me interning
for someone else.
But still…I have to have principles, and I have to stand on them.
“I have to go,” I tell him as I back away from him.
He’s on me in a flash, his big arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush to him.
I gasp when my breasts crash against his chest, my hands instinctively coming up to lay flat on
hard slabs of muscle.
His huge hands splay across my back, branding me with his touch, and I feel his huge erection
pressing against my stomach. My eyes widen when I feel just how huge it is. Jesus, it’s probably as
big—if not bigger—than my wrist.
 My core shouldn’t tighten at that knowledge, and moisture definitely should pool between my
legs, but it does. I should be trembling at the thought that he wants to put something that big inside of
me, but instead, my body is revving up like a racecar at the Daytona 500.
“Don’t run from me again, Faith,” he growls, and that growl sends fire racing through my veins. I
imagine how it would sound right in my ear. I feel the rumble of it underneath my palms where they’re
pressed against his chest, and I feel my knees going weak as I’m surrounded by him, his intoxicating
scent wrapping around me like a boa constrictor.
The scent of his cologne is something decidedly masculine, like bergamot and citrus and
sandalwood somehow all wrapped into one. I realize it’s my new favorite smell.
I tremble in his hold, and his eyes soften as they gaze down at me, closer than ever before.
“You say I make you speechless, but you make me insane. What is it about you that captivates me
so?” His eyes rove over my face as if he’s looking for the answer. “From the moment I saw you in that
pretty peach dress, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you. Of what it would be like to hold you
like this.” His arms tighten around me with his words.
“Of what it would feel like to run my fingers through your hair.” He lifts his hand and spears his
fingers into my hair, undoing my bun until my locks tumble around my shoulders. A rumble of
approval vibrates in his chest as he runs his fingers through my hair.
“Of what these lips taste like.” His lips hover right above mine. I can feel his hot breath fanning
over my lips, and they begin to tingle and grow heavy in response.
My god, I want him to kiss me.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he groans and crashes his lips onto mine.
His kiss isn’t gentle. It’s a rush of fire, burning me from the inside out. It’s hard and demanding,
like he’s punishing me for claiming so much of his attention. I whimper under the assault, but that only
spurs him on.
His tongue tangles with mine, and my knees give out on me. It’s a good thing he’s holding me up
against him because I would surely melt at his feet if he wasn’t.
“So motherfucking sweet,” he growls against my lips, “just like I knew you would be.”
He angles my head up to him and deepens the kiss, thrusting his tongue in and out of my mouth in a
blatant imitation of the sexual act. It’s raw and dirty, the way he’s kissing me, and it’s rendering me
immobile.
If he bent me over his desk right now, I’d be physically incapable of protesting.
That’s why I thank the universe when a knock sounds on his door, jerking us both back to reality.
Chapter Four

Warren

I'M GOING to kill whoever knocked on this fucking door and caused Faith to wrench away from
me. Her little chest is heaving, and her lips are swollen from my kisses.
My cock jumps in my pants, demanding that I pull her back to me. Sticky precum leaks from the
tip, and I know I'm going to have stains all over my boxers, but I don't give a fuck.
“Faith,” I call her name, but she's already turned on her heel and is running from me—again.
I sprint after her, but she opens the door before I can grab her. Matt is standing on the other side.
He must see the murderous rage in my eyes because he takes a few steps back and holds his hands up
apologetically. “I'm sorry if now's not a good time.”
“I was just leaving,” Faith says as she hurries her way through the door.
“Faith!” I call out her name again, but she ignores me and hits the elevator. I consider going after
her but spear my fingers into my hair and let out a roar instead.
I turn back to Matt and point an accusing finger at him. “You're fired!”
He raises an eyebrow but wisely doesn't say a word. Instead, he just walks away, giving me my
space.
I storm back into my office and slam the door so hard it rattles in the frame.
“Fuck!” I scream. I've scared her off again. How come everything I do scares this girl off? Why
can't I control myself around her? Why do I have to be such a bastard all the time? She hardly knows
me and here I am mauling her in my office instead of giving her the professional guidance she was
looking for. I can only imagine what she'd say if I'd spoken the filth going through my mind about how
I wanted to bust her pussy wide open.
I lose control when it comes to her. I feel like I need to make my move and claim her before
somebody else beats me to the punch—like one of those fucking jocks at that school she attends. It's
an archaic thought, but I can't help it. The thought of another man's hands on her makes me homicidal.
My cock is still hard as a rock, and I’m more sexually frustrated than I can ever remember being.
I'm probably going straight to hell for this, but fuck it. They call me the devil, right? So, what does it
matter?
I head over to my desk and pull up all the photos I have of her until I find my favorite one—the
one of her with her head thrown back as she laughs. I've cropped that fucking boy out of it.
I stare at her beautiful face as I pull my stiff cock from my slacks and begin jerking hard and fast.
I've got to do something to take the edge off.
I'm coming in an embarrassing amount of time, thick ropes jetting up out of me so hard I have to
grip the edge of my desk to keep from collapsing. Christ, what this girl does to me. All I have to do is
jack off to an image of her face and I'm coming harder than I've ever come in my entire life. If I ever
get inside her cunt, it'll probably kill me.
I clean myself up and stuff my still half-hard cock back in my pants. I'm barely sated and nowhere
near satisfied. I can still taste the sweetness of her lips and feel how perfect her body felt pressed up
against mine, and I know now that I know what it feels like to hold her in my arms, now that I know
her lips taste like honey, nothing will ever be enough.
If I was going to forget about her, I should have done it before I touched her because now letting
her go is no longer an option. I meant what I told her earlier. I'm a heartless bastard who does
whatever he has to to get what he wants, and unfortunately for Faith, she is what I want.
Faith Ellison is now my obsession, and I'll do everything in my power to acquire her.

Faith

I wake up to six bouquets of a dozen roses. My roommates ooh and ahh over them and wonder who
they're from.
I already know who they’re from even though there’s no signature attached to the notes that just
have my name scribbled on them in an elegant scrawl. There are six of them, and six is the devil's
number, right?
Ever since I fled Warren’s office yesterday, I’ve been telling myself that it's for the best, that it's
not wise for me to get involved with such a rich and powerful man—someone who could potentially
be my competitor or peer one day. I plan on having a successful career in the financial sector, so it's
probably not the wisest move for me to get involved with the most important player in said sector and
then have things not work out between us because, I mean, come on, they won't.
Warren Foxworth is insanely rich and powerful. Whatever infatuation he has with me is just
fleeting. I'm just a challenge to him. He's not someone who's used to hearing the word “no.” He's used
to getting his way on everything, and that's probably the only reason why I've piqued his interest.
Once he gets what he wants out of me, he'll toss me to the side, and there I'll be. His broken leftovers.
Because I already know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Warren Foxworth will wreck me if I let
him. The man is dangerously handsome and affects me in a way no one ever has. He has the power to
completely destroy my heart because there's no way I could keep myself from falling for a guy like
him. He's everything I never knew I wanted in a man. He has that whole powerful alpha thing going
on, and while I'm a feminist at heart, apparently my feminist is a bit of a slut too because she rolls
over and purrs at the thought of submitting to a dominant like Warren.
I ignore the roses and shrug off the girls’ questions, acting as clueless as they are about who sent
them. Thankfully, Sarah isn't here because she might remember the way Warren zeroed in on me the
other night, and if she mentioned him in front of the other girls, those are questions I certainly don't
want to deal with.
 I go throughout my day like usual, but I'm finding it harder than ever to focus on my classes. My
lips keep tingling, remembering the way Warren's felt sliding against mine, the way he thrust his
tongue inside my mouth, and the way it caused heat to pool in my center. I remember how good it felt
to be wrapped up in his arms. I can still smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne.
More than a couple of times I have to forcibly push him out of my mind so I can focus on what my
professors are saying, and this irritates me to no end because I am not the kind of girl who daydreams
in class and doesn't pay attention. This right here is another reason why getting involved with Warren
Foxworth would be detrimental to me and my career. I don’t need to be involved with someone who
takes my focus away from my future.
I am not going to think of him again, I tell myself firmly. As soon as I think that, speak of the devil.
My cell phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. I instantly know who it is by the way
he greets me.
Unknown: Did you like the roses, angel princess?
My heart does a little flip at the moniker. Warren is the only one I know who would take two
endearments and string them together like that to make one.
I bite my lip as I consider what to say, and then I finally decide to act like he's got the wrong
number.
Me: Who is this?
The three dots jump as he immediately types back.
Unknown: Don't play games with me, angel. It doesn't suit you.
I scowl as my cheeks flame.
Me: How did you get my number?
Unknown: Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.
I frown even though I know he's right. He's Warren Foxworth, the richest man in the city. He can
have anything he wants. There's no telling what all he's pulled up on me. I try a firm tactic with him.
Me: This is a gross invasion of privacy.
Unknown: No, a gross invasion of privacy is how you've invaded my every thought. If I can't
get you out of my mind, I'm going to be damned if I let you push me from yours.
My breath hitches. I can almost hear him growling those words at me.
Why do I like how surly and growly he is? Something's obviously very wrong with me.
Me: I'm in class. You're distracting me.
Unknown: Come intern with me, and you'll learn more in one day than they’ll teach you in a
whole semester of those classes.
Me: Mr. Foxworth, you've made it very clear why I can't be your intern.
Unknown: Bullshit.
I can hear his growl again, and it causes a slight smile to tip my lips. My smile falls, and my heart
panics when my phone begins ringing.
The professor gives me a stern look and a raised eyebrow, and several students turn around to
glare at me.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I slip out of my seat and head for the door. As soon as I'm outside, I answer
the phone and hiss at him, What the hell is wrong with you? I told you I was in class! Professor
Collum is going to skin me alive.”
Warren’s deep laugh floats over the line. “Collum couldn’t skin a dead fish, and leave him to me.
No one will touch you.”
 My heart trips within me at the growl in his voice when he says that last bit.
“When can I see you?” he veers topics and cuts right to the chase.
“I don't think it's a good idea—" I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Bullshit. We both felt the way you melted against me yesterday. You want me too, Faith. Admit
it.”
I want to deny it, but it would be a lie. He's right. My body does want him, but my mind has a
million reasons why it wouldn't be a good idea.
“Stop fighting this,” he croons at me when I’m silent. “Is it me you’re so frightened of?”
“I'm not scared of anything,” I deny.
“Don't play games with me, Faith.” His voice is stern, and I choke out an incredulous laugh. Just
who the hell does this guy think he is?
“Warren,” I say his name sarcastically, pissed off beyond measure now. “You might be the richest
guy in the city, and I know that “no” is a word you probably haven’t heard much in your pampered
life, but the answer is no. I'm not interested. Leave me alone.”
I end the call, proud of myself for being so firm and standing my ground.
My phone immediately starts ringing again.
I turn it off, but my hands are shaking, and there's a sinking feeling in my stomach that feels
suspiciously like disappointment, but I brush it off.
I did the right thing. At the end of the day, I have to be smart and practical. I can't let my hormones
and emotions rule me. I give myself a mental pat on the back for shutting all this down before it has a
chance to go even further.
Now I can truly push Warren Foxworth and his smoldering blue eyes out of my mind and focus on
my career.
It’s really for the best.
Chapter Five

Warren

FAITH IS KILLING ME. She won't answer my texts or phone calls, and she's returning every
gift I send her.
I'm still stuck jacking off to photos of her every day while I remember the way she felt in my arms
and how sweet her lips tasted. Maybe I'm a spoiled bastard because she's right. I'm not used to
hearing the word “no”—especially when it's something that I desperately want, and I’ve never
wanted anything as desperately as I do my little angel.
It gets so bad that I end up doing away with my private investigator and head out to follow her
myself one day. I need to see her in the flesh.
I only make it halfway through the day before I catch her alone and corner her. I know the
schedules of all the girls who live in her house, so I know that none of them are home. That's why
whenever Faith unlocks her door, I suddenly step out of the shadows and come up behind her.
“Faith,” I say her name gently, trying not to startle her too much.
She jumps anyway, turning to me with a squeal. “What are you doing here?”
“Why do you keep returning my gifts?” I fire back a question of my own.
She sighs and looks down. I take a step toward her, deeply inhaling her sweet scent. “Why won't
you answer my texts or my calls?”
Her eyes flick up to me before she looks away again.
I'm having none of that, though. Her silence has tortured me all week, and now that I finally have a
moment with her, I'm not going to waste it. I realize I'm being a pushy bastard, but I have a sixth sense
about things. I always follow my gut. It's how I'm able to know when an acquisition is a good idea
and when we should pass on it. It’s what makes me a good businessman.
And what I'm sensing right now is that Faith doesn't really mean it when she tells me she's not
interested. I've never been one of those guys who believes that no means yes and yes means no, but I
can read Faith. It’s in her body language, her face, her eyes.
I can see the way she trembles, but it's not fear I'm sensing from her. Not fear of me anyway.
I finally reach out and tip her chin up to me, stroking my thumb along her petal-soft cheek. Those
hazel eyes gut me all over again. I think they always will. Each time they look into mine I feel my
world tilt on its axis.
“Do you know I've barely slept a wink all week thinking about you?” I confess to her.
 She bites her lip, and I bite back a groan at the way her teeth sink into the puffy flesh. I can’t take
it. “Stop biting your lip before I do it for you,” I warn her, my voice coming out gruffer than I intend.
Her eyes widen, and she releases the flesh from her teeth. I run my thumb over her bottom lip, and
her eyes flutter closed, a little whimper escaping her.
My blood thrums in tune to my heartbeat. “Why are you fighting this so much? Am I really that
scary?”
Her eyes flick up to me, and she shakes her head slowly. “I'm not afraid of you,” she speaks
quietly.
Relief courses through me at her admission.
“Then what is it? Your constant refusal is driving me insane. Just let me spend some time with
you. That's all I ask. Spend some time with me.” I'm not one to beg for anything, but if she wants me to
get down on my knees right here on her front porch and beg her, I will. That's how hard-up I am for
this girl.
“It's not—” she begins, and a roar of frustration rumbles up out of my chest before I snap.
“Don't you dare finish that fucking sentence, Faith. I'm tired of hearing this it's-not-a-good-idea
shit. I'm going insane here, and I know you want me too. I don't know why you're fighting this thing
between us so much, but it ends now.”
She licks her lips, and the last thread of my control unravels. I grab the nape of her neck and
smash my lips down onto hers, kissing her desperately, communicating my needs and wants to her
through the kiss.
Fire courses through my veins at the way she melts against me. Her sweet honey taste assaults my
senses. Victory surges through me when I feel her little tongue moving tentatively against mine.
I was right. She does want this—whether she'll admit it to herself or not. I don't know why she
keeps fighting this so much, but I'm damn determined to put a stop to it because I am now more
convinced than ever that this girl belongs to me. She's meant to be mine.
I kiss her until we're both breathless, and when I finally pull back and look down into her hazel
orbs, they’re half-lidded until she blinks, and I watch as reality snaps her out of whatever haze she
was is.
Her eyes turn fiery before I feel the sting of her slap hitting me across the cheek. “Fuck you,
Warren Foxworth!” she hisses at me before she turns and goes inside, slamming the door in my face. I
hear her click the lock into place like she's afraid I'm going to force my way in.
Little does she know if I really wanted to get in, I could kick this door down—deadbolt or no.
Better yet, I could use the key in my pocket. I've not used it yet, but of course I had a key to her place
commissioned for me. Something else she would no doubt call a “gross invasion of privacy,” but I
don’t care. I have to be able to get at my girl at all times.
I must be really fucked up because I stand on her porch with a goofy grin on my face as I raise my
hand up and feel where she slapped me.
She might act like she doesn't care, but the way she melted against me, the way her heart beat
against me, the way she kissed me back. None of that was the reaction of a girl who's not interested.
No, it all proves she wants me just as badly as I do her.
Maybe she's fighting this so hard because of my reputation as the devil. I don't know. What I do
know is that this game is not over. It's only just begun.
I will make her mine.
Faith Ellison belongs to me.
Chapter Six

Faith

I DON'T HEAR from Warren again for three days, and I'm a confused mixture of relieved and
disappointed. My slap must have done the trick and finally gotten through to him.
I feel a sting of remorse when I remember doing it, though. I've never struck anyone in my entire
life, and maybe I stung his pride because he finally seems to have backed off. The gifts have stopped,
the texts have stopped, and the calls have stopped.
Which is what I wanted, right?
So, why am I moping around my day, and why are my dreams still filled with fiery blue flames set
under dark eyebrows?
I shake my head as I leave my last class of the day. I'm being completely ridiculous. This is what I
want, I reaffirm to myself over and over again. I'm glad he’s left me alone. So what if the man can
kiss me stupid? He makes me tongue-tied and speechless, and that's exactly why he's dangerous to me.
He shifts my focus off of my schooling, and it certainly doesn't help that he's the biggest force to be
reckoned with in the field I'm going into because if I got involved with him and it ended badly
between us, I would have to leave the city.
And who's to say that his reach doesn't extend beyond the city? I might not be able to get a job in
the field I have worked my ass off to go into for so long at all.
No, this really is the smartest move.
As if the universe hears me and is agreeing with me, I get a phone call from my advisor. My
spirits instantly rise at her upbeat tone. “Faith Ellison, you have got to be the luckiest student I've ever
worked with.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, hope lighting my chest. She must have good news based on
her tone.
“You've just been awarded a scholarship that pays for your remaining tuition!”
“What?” I’m so shocked I almost drop my phone. “Wait, did I even apply for any more
scholarships?”
“No!” she chirps cheerily. “This wasn’t a scholarship you had to apply for. It's a merit-based one
that the donor privately selected, and he picked you.”
My senses are instantly on alert when I hear the pronoun “he,” and somehow, I already know the
answer before I ask. “And just who is the donor of the scholarship?”
 “Warren Foxworth,” she announces proudly.
My world comes to a halt as his name buzzes inside my head. I vaguely register the sound of my
advisor babbling on about how I must be doing such a good job at the internship that Mr. Foxworth
decided to pay for the remainder of my education. “He's already taken care of your current balance.”
“Come again?” I ask.
“Oh, yes, dear. He's already paid off your current balance. You're going to begin your career
completely debt-free, and it looks like you'll already have a job set up.” She laughs happily.
“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it!”
“I'm sorry. I have to go.” I tell her.
“Of course. Congratulations, Faith!” She's completely none the wiser at my plight. She probably
thinks that I’m getting ready to celebrate with joy when it's really just the opposite.
Fire is pumping through my veins. I'm angrier than I ever remember being in my entire life—
especially when I check my bank account on a hunch and see all the fat zeroes now in my balance.
If this doesn't prove another reason why I absolutely should not get involved with Warren
Foxworth. He thinks he can buy people off. I’m so hot I’m surprised smoke isn’t fuming from my ears
like it does in those Looney Tunes cartoons.
If he thinks he's some sort of sugar daddy and I'm going to be his sugar baby, that he's going to pay
for my tuition and give me fancy gifts and I'm going to sleep with him, then he's got another thing
coming.
I march all the way to Foxworth Industries, my rage fueling every step. The closer I get to
Warren’s high rise, the more indignant I get.
I stomp my way through the lobby and over to the elevator, pressing the button that takes me up to
the highest floor where his office is located. When I get there, I march right past his sputtering
secretary, who jumps up with a panicked look on her face when I head for his office door.
“Miss! You can't just go in there!”
I ignore her and fling his door open.
Warren is sitting behind his desk. His jet-black hair falls in that carelessly disheveled way it
does. His lips are sinfully plump for a man, and that bit of stubble that he can't ever seem to shave off
shadows his jawline.
He stands to his full height, his eyes flashing blue fire and a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes
sweep over me.
He seems completely unsurprised to see me here, the cocky bastard.
“I'm sorry, sir!” his secretary sputters behind me. “I tried to stop her…”
“It's okay, Georgina,” he tells her without ever taking his eyes from me. “You may leave now.
Miss Ellison and I have some things to discuss.”
For some reason, hearing him call me “Miss Ellison” to someone else infuriates me. I cross my
arms over my chest and glare at him with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, so it's Miss Ellison now?”
His grin stretches into a full smile as he begins stalking over to me. “I'm so glad you came to see
me, Faith.”
“You know why I'm here.” I lift my chin and stare daggers at him. “I can't be bought.”
His brow furrows. “I'm not trying to buy you. I'm just trying to get your attention, and I'll do
whatever it takes.”
“Take your money back,” I grit out firmly, my hands balled into fists at my sides. “I don't want it.”
“Well, I want you to have it,” he quips at me.
“I don't need it,” I fire back.
 “Okay.” He shrugs. “It doesn't matter. It's still yours.”
“Why are you doing this?” I burst out. “Why won't you just leave me alone?”
“You don't want me to leave you alone,” he growls as he takes another step toward me, his eyes
flashing fire and a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Lie to me and tell me I'm wrong.”
My mouth falls open as I stare at him. I try to form the words, but I can't.
He smiles at me smugly as he closes the distance between us and wraps his big arms around me,
yanking me to him until I'm flush against him.
I close my eyes and try to keep his scent from intoxicating me and lowering my defenses. I try to
ignore how good it feels to be wrapped up in him like this. I try to remind myself of all the reasons
why it's not a good idea for me to be involved with Warren Foxworth.
“I told you, angel princess,” he speaks softly, “I want you, and I get what I want.”
I frown as he lifts my chin up to him, his blue orbs blazing into mine as he tells me knowingly,
“And I know you want me too. Deny it all you want, but I can read you like an open book. It's right
there on your face plain as day. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can't lie to me.”
I start to tremble uncontrollably. He notices and begins stroking his hands up and down my arms
and back soothingly.
“It's okay,” he murmurs before he asks me so gently it brings tears to my eyes. “What are you so
afraid of, Faith?”
I open my eyes and see real concern in his. I swallow and take a deep breath before I say fuck it
and finally confess, “You make me feel things that scare me. You might want me for a day or a night,
maybe even a week, and then once you get me out of your system, where does that leave me? It'd be
so easy for me to fall for you, and then if we don't work out, you're the head of the entire financial
district here in New York, and I would never be able to get a respectable job in the city and—”
“Shush,” he commands me as he presses a finger to my lips to stop me mid-babble.
For once, I obey him without question. I feel the tears pricking my eyes harder as the
embarrassment consumes me. Fuck, I've made a complete fool of myself to him. I practically admitted
to him that I would catch feelings for him, and he's probably thinking that I'm crazy right about now.
“Silly girl,” his voice is soft and chiding.
I shrink into myself. He's right. I am a silly girl. A stupid, silly, idiotic girl.
I try to look down, but he holds my chin fast in his grip and forces me to meet his gaze. “You think
I want to fuck you?”
I lick my lips. His eyes flick to them before that muscle in his jaw ticks again. He drags his gaze
back up to my eyes before he confesses, “You're right. I do.”
I close my eyes. I already knew that’s all this was, but the sting of it still hurts. My chest tightens
as I fight to keep from letting my tears spill over.
He strokes his finger over my lips. “Look at me.”
I open my eyes against my will.
“I want to bend you over my desk and spank your little ass for the way you've made me chase you.
I want to watch you gag on my cock. I want to fuck you so hard you won't walk for a week. I want to
be so deep inside you that you won't even be able to think of another man's name.”
I should be horrified at his admission, but it has heat coiling deep in my belly.
His voice deepens, and he’s so close now that his breath skates over my cheeks as he says, “But I
also want to lay you down on a bed of roses and kiss every inch of your body. I want to drink from the
sweet nectar between your thighs and worship you like the goddess you are.”
He grabs the nape of my neck and bends down until his blue orbs are eye level with mine. Those
blue flames blaze into me as he says passionately, “If you think all I want with you is a fling, you're
wrong. I want to possess you, Faith Ellison. I'm not going to just fuck you and then be done with you.
I’m never going to be done with you. I'm going to keep you and obsess over you forever. Don't you
know once you lie with the devil, there's no getting away from him?”
Silence falls between us after his speech, and we stare at each other for a long moment.
I feel my chest expanding as his words wash over me like a cleansing rain.
I don’t know which one of us moves first, but the next thing I know we're a tangle of limbs. My
legs wrapped around his waist. His arms around my back, crushing me to him. My arms around his
neck. His lips sliding sensuously against mine.
“Warren,” I whimper against his lips.
“Yes,” he hisses against my mouth as he humps his erection against me through our pants. “That's
how you say my name, angel princess. You moan and whimper it out in pleasure in that sexy little
voice of yours.”
He spears his fingers into my hair and angles my head up to him so he can deepen the kiss.
He kisses me until we're both breathless before he finally pulls his head back from mine and
begins trailing kisses down my jaw and along my throat. He licks and sucks on my neck, and I know
it's going to leave marks on me, but in this moment, I don't care. All I care about is how good his lips
feel against my hot skin.
He carries me over to the desk where he swipes everything off it with one big swoop of his arm
before laying me gently on it.
I gasp as he rips my top off me and then hurries to pull down my leggings and panties in one fell
swoop, flinging them to the side. A growl rumbles up out of him as his eyes rake over my body,
drinking me in greedily. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
I shudder under his intense gaze, my nipples pebbling, but then I'm arching up into him whenever
his mouth falls onto my breast and suckles it. Fire floods to my already swollen clit, and I arch up
against him, seeking something. I don’t know what, only that whatever it is, he can give it to me.
As if he senses what I need, his hand moves over my stomach to the juncture between my thighs.
He rubs me in small circles. “So wet for me,” he whispers against my breast. “Don’t worry. I’m going
to give you everything you need, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you, angel princess,” he promises as he
kisses his way over my stomach and then settles in between my legs.
He holds my thighs open and looks up at me as he laps at my folds. My head immediately falls
back on a moan at the wonderful sensation, and I wonder why I fought this for so long. Warren won’t
hurt me. I think I always knew that deep down. He may be the devil to everyone else, but he’s
different with me. I'm his angel, and he worships me with his mouth, kissing me just as passionately
there as he did my other lips.
When he suctions onto my pearly nub and begins flicking his tongue over it rhythmically, I fist my
fingers in his hair and strain against him as pleasure unlike anything I've ever felt courses through me.
“Warren!” I gasp out.
“Yes, that's it, angel,” he encourages me. “Let me taste your heaven.”
He presses one probing finger into me while he sucks hard on my clit, and that's what does it.
I fall apart underneath him, screaming out my release.
“Fuck, I can't wait. Got to have you now, sweet baby,” he says urgently as he quickly shucks off
his shirt and pulls down his pants. His enormous erection springs free, and I see the moisture dripping
down the side of it in a steady stream. The tip is swollen and angry looking.
He kisses me as he lines himself up with my hole. Before I even get a chance to tell him I'm a
virgin, he slams his hips into me, breaking the barrier of my virginity.
I scream out and clutch up against him, my nails digging into his back like a feral cat. He groans
deep in the back of his throat as he slides into my tight channel and pulls back slightly to look down at
me with a look of questioning amazement on his face.
“Are you a virgin?” he growls.
I nod, a blush rising to my cheeks as I fight for breath, the intense pressure of him stretching me
still stinging.
He holds himself still inside me, his jaw taut. The pain begins to fade away as Warren curses,
“Fuck, Faith. Fuck.” The muscles in his neck are taut, but he leans down to drop reverent kisses on my
face.
“Only mine,” he whispers, and I feel his cock jerk within me. I don't know if he's speaking to me
or himself or maybe both of us, but I let his possessive words wash over me.
He pulls back slightly to stare into my eyes as he starts moving inside me gently. I moan as the
pain fades away and turns into pleasure.
He kisses me again—deeply and slowly this time. “I’m going to fuck this little virgin pussy raw
and make it mine, baby. All mine,” he tells me as he picks up the pace.
His dirty talk sends a flood of moisture rushing between my legs, and he groans when he feels it.
“Fuck, Faith, you like the way the devil’s claiming you? You want me to fuck my cum deep inside
your pretty little pussy? You need me to fuck it raw and dirty, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I moan out, my muscles clenching at his words. Holy shit. I can’t believe how much
hearing those words in his growly, possessive voice turns me on.
He doesn’t stop there, though. “You want me to breed you?” he goes on. He’s huffing and puffing
now as he saws his cock in and out of me. “You want me to fill you up with my babies?”
“Oh god!” I grit out. It's totally irresponsible for us to be having sex without a condom, and I'm
not sure I want kids right now, but hearing him talk about breeding me is turning me on to no end. In
this moment, I want exactly that.
“Look at me, Faith,” he tells me as he continues to pump his hips against me. His eyes are wild as
he growls, “I'm going to put a baby in you, and then I'm going to put a ring on that finger and you're not
ever going to run from me again. Do you understand me? You belong to me.”
“Yes!” I moan. I’d agree with him if he told me the sky was green right now. I’m too far gone in
the pleasure he’s giving me.
“Who do you belong to?” he prompts me.
“You!”
“Say my name,” he orders me.
“Warren!”
“Again,” he grits out.
“Warren!”
“Again,” he growls.
He punctuates each word with a deep thrust until I'm chanting his name over and over again, that
pressure building within me into something deliciously hot.
“Warren!” I scream out one last time as I begin to quake around him.
“That’s it! Call out my name when you come on my cock, sweet baby.” My entire body seizes up,
and then I’m shattering beneath him. Warren lets out a deep, guttural groan, and then I feel his hot heat
spilling inside me.
He grunts as his cock continues to spurt within me staining my womb with each pulse. I feel the
tremors going through his own body before he gathers me close to his chest and then collapses into his
chair with me straddling him.
He keeps himself seated deep within me as we shake in the aftermath together. I feel his hands
brushing my hair back from my forehead, and then I feel his lips place a gentle kiss there.
He lets out an incredulous laugh. “If I’d have known that’s what was holding you back,
sweetheart, I’d have told you how I really felt from the beginning.”
He cups my cheek, his eyes so soft they make my insides melt. “I was trying my best not to scare
you away, though. You already thought I was the devil.”
“I didn't think you were the devil,” I protest.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You asked me if I was the devil the first time we met.”
“That's not what I meant to ask you.” I shake my head, but before I can say more, he strokes his
thumb over my lip.
His eyes rove across my face before he murmurs, “It doesn’t matter. Maybe I am the devil, but
you're my redemption, sweet angel.”
I cup his face in my hands, his stubble scratchy under my palms. A grumble of satisfaction rumbles
up out of him. “If you're a devil, then you’re my devil.”
His eyes blaze with that blue fire before he grabs the nape of my neck and kisses me again,
branding me with his lips.
And it’s true. If he's the devil, then I'll gladly burn with him.
Epilogue

Two Years Later

Warren

“THANK YOU, MATT.” My wife smiles at my head of PR before she closes the door to our
office and saunters over to me with a sexy sway of her hips.
Of course, I rehired Matt back at my wife’s insistence. That and the fact that I really do need him
to field some of the bullshit PR stuff I don’t have the patience for. He was completely nonplussed
about his termination anyway. I’ve fired and rehired him at least ten times since he’s worked for me.
He knows the drill. He knows it comes with the territory of working for the devil.
I have to say, though, I don’t seem to be scowling at him—or any of my other employees quite so
much lately, and it’s all due to my beautiful wife.
Faith.
She grounds me. She makes me a better man. She’s so good and kind and sweet, and even though I
can still be a bastard, she soothes me in a way no one else has ever been able to.
And she truly is a valuable asset to the company, so much so that I made her partner. She’s not just
my partner in life. She’s also my business partner now. She has a great head for finance, and together
we’re unstoppable.
I watch the way the filmy white fabric skims over her thighs as she sashays over to me with a coy
smile on her face. The little vixen knows exactly what she's doing to me in that dress. It doesn't help
that she has a pair of faux wings made into the back of the thing, making her truly look like an angel.
We’re already dressed for our annual Halloween party tonight. While costumes aren’t mandatory, it’s
become a bit of a tradition for Faith and I to dress up as an angel and devil, respectively. The press
gets a kick out of it, and our marriage is great for business. We’re known as a power couple—and we
are.
Whereas Faith is dressed as an angel, I, on the other hand, am dressed in all black—as usual—
though I refuse to wear a headpiece of horns. I've been the devil this long with nothing but my suit on.
I'm not going to start dressing up now.
I have to say that the party has grown on me. After all, had it not been for the thing in the
beginning, I never would have met my angel.
 “That dress is too short, wife,” I growl as my eyes skim up her beautiful legs.
She grins at me saucily, proving my suspicions correct. She wore it just to get a rise out of me.
Faith loves it when I get all growly and jealous and possessive of her. What she doesn't realize is
that she could wear a paper sack and I'd still be like that over her. “Do you want me to have to kill
someone tonight?” My voice comes out rough.
She finally reaches me and straddles my lap, pressing her pretty little pussy against me through
our clothing.
I grip an ass cheek in each hand as I look up at her sternly. “If anyone touches you, I'll kill them,” I
warn her.
She knows it's true too. I'm insane when it comes to her.
“Hush,” she purrs at me. “No one's going to mess with me. They all know who I belong to.”
I grunt. I suppose that's true. I splay my hands across her pregnant belly. She's barely showing, but
it gives me an archaic sense of satisfaction seeing her belly swollen with my child for the entire
world to see.
Only a fool would mess with her. Everyone in the entire city knows she's mine. I wasn't exactly
subtle about my claim when I announced her as my wife and business partner just a week after the day
I popped her sweet little cherry in my office.
Maybe it was quick, but I couldn't wait to have the entire world know that this angel is mine.
Thank goodness she was okay with it.
It still blows my mind when I remember the reason she held back from me. I can’t believe she
really thought I just wanted to fuck her and that's it. I don't see how she couldn't have seen my
obsession with her. Everyone else certainly did.
Matt was the first one to say “thank fuck” when he found out I had gotten her. “Now maybe you'll
tone down the assholism and go back to your normal level of asshole.” He’s said it half-jokingly, but I
know he was serious too.
Faith begins rocking her sweet hips on me, humping my prominent bulge through my pants. I hiss
in a breath. Precum leaks from my tip. “Faith, honey, if you keep that up, we're not going to make it
down to the party,” I warn her.
“I don't care,” she moans as she licks the shell of my ear. “I need you.” Her voice is a breathy
whine that sets my blood racing throughout my veins.
Fuck the damn party. There's not a man alive who could resist Faith’s siren call. I lift her ass with
one hand and pull my aching cock free from my pants with the other.
I hook her panties with one finger and pull them to the side, and then I'm lowering her down onto
me.
We both groan as her hot heat engulfs my hardness. “Oh, fuck, baby. You're going to have me
nutting in no time with that perfect little pussy between your legs.”
“Warren,” she moans out my name, and I already know what she wants. My girl loves it when I
talk dirty to her, and I'm more than willing to give it to her.
I punched my hips up into her and fist a hand in her hair. “You want me to give it to you deep and
nasty, dirty girl?”
I feel her pussy ripple around me at my words as she moans and throws her head back.
Her hair tumbles down her back. Those pretty white, feathery wings make her look otherworldly.
I resist the urge to crush them and instead hold onto her hips as I spear myself into her again and
again, hitting her just where I know she needs it.
I feel my balls churning just as I feel the first fluttering of her pussy around my cock, signaling to
me that she’s right there. She's so wet it's dripping down onto me, making a filthy mess of my balls,
and fuck if that doesn't turn me on even more.
“You ready for me, baby?” I ask her.
She doesn't get a chance to answer because I punch up one last time and angle my hips to hit her g-
spot—hard.
Male pride rushes through my chest when she screams, her arms clutching around my head as a
tremor passes through her entire body.
I grunt and moan out my own release hoarsely, my seed pulsing into her, marking her as mine yet
again. I'll never get tired of claiming her this way, of knowing that I'm the only man who's ever going
to be inside her like this.
She collapses on top of me, and I cradle her against me as we both fight for breath. When our
breathing slows down, my chest expands with all the love I feel for my precious angel.
I stroke her hair back from her face as I tilt her chin up to meet my eyes. “Do you remember what I
said to you that day you showed up to be my intern?”
She gives me a dreamy smile before she answers, “Every devil needs an angel.”
“That's right,” I kiss her tenderly.
Every devil needs an angel, and Faith is mine.

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