“You’re hell in a black dress…” the words came as he pressed her against the wall, mashing their lips, one hand slamming the front door, the other wrapping around her waist.
Her left hand grazed his neck. The right holding him to her by the shoulder.
She was his hell, so close but so out of reach. Completely unattainable.
But she’d broken, she’d come to him. And in that black dress…
If he hadn’t given in he’d never have gotten the image out of his head.
She was his personal hell, and he was so going to enjoy the trip.