I smile as he closes the door. I really wasn’t expecting him tonight. I actually wasn’t sure how this would work. I’m surprised he’s here and I keep looking around, certain that some of my dad’s men will find him—or know he’s here.

I throw on a pair of pajamas. I should probably dress up since Devil is here. This isn’t exactly a normal date, though, and I want to relax tonight. I look at my jeans and T-shirts hanging in the closet and second guess myself, but finally say fuck it and close the door. I towel dry my hair and stare longingly at my blow dryer. My hair will be an untamable mess by morning, but I don’t want to delay being with Logan. I can admit that I’m happy he’s here—even excited. It’s probably not fair and makes me all kinds of horrible—but I’m glad that Wolf is out of town.

“What are you doing now?” I ask Devil when I finally track him down in the kitchen.

“I’m hungry,” he says with a grin. “You’re looking good, Torrent,” He takes a bite of a banana. The same could definitely be said about him. Eating a banana shouldn’t be sexy, but somehow on Devil it is.

“I’m pretty sure there’s something more filling in this kitchen than bananas,” I laugh, sliding into a stool at the breakfast bar. He pulls off a piece of his banana and brings it to my lips. I’m almost hypnotized by the look on his face and without thought find myself opening for him. He slips the sweet bite between my lips and I suck it from his fingers. I don’t think it’s my imagination that his eyes darken in color. My heart feels like it’s kicked into overdrive in my chest and I forget to breathe.

“I know,” he says. “There’s peanut butter.”

I blink, wondering if I misheard him.

“Peanut butter?”

“Angel, you haven’t lived until you’ve had a fried banana and peanut butter sandwich.”

“I… if you tell me you’re really the King of Rock n’ Roll, I’m going to go running now.”

“No Elvis here, but if you’re a good girl I’ll show you how well I can move my hips later.”

“I bet you would. You really are a freak, aren’t you, Logan?”

He winks at me and I find myself laughing. I haven’t felt like laughing in a while, but around Devil I tend to do it all the time.

“What’s all this? I thought you just put the peanut butter and banana together?” I ask, trying to pay attention to what he’s doing as he gathers ingredients.

“Sacrilege! The secret to making a sandwich fit for the King is the honey.”

“Honey? Do I even have that?”

“Found it in the cabinet. See peanut butter alone is more than filling. It’s enough to make you lick your lips and moan from pleasure, but if you add a little sweet honey so it sticks to the peanut butter making it slide down your throat while the flavor explodes on your tongue. And then there’s the cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” I’m whispering because his words conjure up images that have nothing to do with a sandwich or cooking.

“Anything thick, sweet and moan-worthy needs a little spice added so you always remember it.”

“Does it?”

“Definitely. A little something extra so you always remember it and come back for more.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re comparing your sandwich to your dick?”

“Actually it’s sex. All good cooking should remind you of sex.”

“Seriously?”

“Definitely, Angel.”

“What about fruitcake?”

I giggle when he screws his face up in distaste.

“I said good cooking, woman.”

“Well, hand me some bread and I’ll spread the peanut butter stuff on it. I’m suddenly hungry.”

“Now we’re talking,” he jokes, while handing me the bread. “You do that and I’ll add the bananas to the other side.”

I get one done and he takes his slice with the bananas and smashes them together—being really messy.

“Uh—”

“Sometimes the best things in life are messy, but when it all comes together it can be perfect,” he says and he leans over to kiss me.

It’s not a long kiss, it’s short and sweet, but it makes me feel happy. It makes me feel like I matter to him and I’m starting to believe I really do. Why else would a man go through as much as he has and still be in my kitchen tonight making me sandwiches… and mostly making me smile?

All signs are pointing to the fact that Devil likes me.

Like I do him…

“You have peanut butter on you,” I tell him when he pulls away.

“I do? Where?”

“Right here,” I tell him, grinning. I take my finger and smear some of the peanut butter I got on it from handling the sandwich and rub it on his nose.

He doesn’t do anything for a minute and then his eyes light in mischief and he grins really big.

“You know this means war, right, Angel?” he says and I start to get a little nervous and then he grabs me by the arms and pulls my face to his and rubs his nose against mine, making me laugh so hard I snort.

Yeah… I really like him.