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forty three
publish date:
2026-09-01 01:25:07
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The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss forty three
The dream clung to Henry Wynthorne like morning mist—Lavinia’s lips soft beneath his fingertips, her body arching into his touch, her breath catching his name. He woke with a gasp, sheets twisted around his legs, his body betraying him with want that felt like a curse. The phantom taste of her skin lingered on his tongue, and he pressed his palms against his eyes until stars burst behind his lids.Damn her. The thought came sharp and bitter. Damn her for haunting me when she won’t even look at me.He’d dreamed of the stars once—of floating weightless among distant galaxies, of discovering new worlds beyond Earth’s atmosphere. Those dreams had died the day his father’s health began failing, the day Uncle Peter made it clear that Wynthorne Enterprises needed its heir present, not chasing cosmic dust in some laboratory. Henry had been at his father’s bedside when the old man’s grip tightened on his hand one final time.“The company needs you now, son. Build it into something greater.”No
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss forty two
“I can get myself home perfectly well, thank you.” But even as she protested, she was swaying slightly on her stool, and when she tried to stand, she had to grip the bar for balance.“Clearly.” Henry’s tone was dry as he left money for both their drinks. “My car’s outside.”Something shifted in the car then, the air growing thick with tension and unspoken questions. Henry could feel it building between them like pressure before a storm, dangerous and electric.They pulled up outside her townhouse, and for a moment neither of them moved. The rain continued its relentless assault on the windshield, cocooning them in their own private world.“Henry.” His name on her lips was soft, confused, and when he turned to look at her, she was studying him with those glassy, unfocused eyes.Before he could respond, she was moving toward him, her arms wrapping around his neck in an embrace that was pure, drunken affection. She pressed against him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, and Henry
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss Forty One
The amber glow of The Meridian’s windows cast long shadows across the rain-slicked pavement as Henry Wynthorne sat in his car, engine idling, watching. He told himself he wasn’t following her—not really. He’d simply been driving past when he’d spotted her silhouette through the glass, and something had compelled him to park, to wait, to observe like some pathetic stalker in the night.Lavinia Hartwell sat at the bar, her dark hair catching the warm light, and beside her—Malcolm. The sight of them together sent something sharp and ugly twisting through Henry’s chest. Malcolm leaned closer, his hand hovering near her shoulder, and Henry’s knuckles whitened against the steering wheel.This is madness, he thought, yet he remained frozen, watching the scene unfold like a car accident he couldn’t look away from.Through the rain-streaked windshield, he could see Lavinia’s profile—the elegant curve of her neck, the way she tilted her head when she listened. She was laughing at something Malc
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss forty
For a moment, she thought he might actually answer honestly. Something vulnerable flickered in his expression, a flash of the younger man she’d once known who hadn’t yet learned to hide his emotions behind layers of professional composure.But the moment passed. Henry straightened in his chair, his features settling back into their familiar lines of polite authority.“Nothing’s bothering me,” he said with a casualness that didn’t quite ring true. “I simply want to ensure that our working environment remains… professional.”The word ‘professional’ seemed to echo between them, carrying all the weight of their shared history and the careful boundaries they’d constructed around their impossible situation.“Of course,” Lavinia said, her voice matching his tone of studied neutrality. “Completely professional.”* * *The afternoon brought an unexpected visitor, and with her, a complication Lavinia hadn’t anticipated.Verity Langford arrived like a burst of sunlight, all golden hair and nervo
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss thirty nine
The first thing Lavinia Hartwell became aware of was warmth. Not the tepid morning sun filtering through her bedroom curtains, but something altogether more solid, more present. Her eyelids fluttered open to find herself mere inches from Henry Wynthorne’s sleeping face, his dark lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones in the pale light.Her breath caught in her throat. Sometime during the night, they had gravitated toward each other like planets pulled by invisible forces, and now she could count the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, could see the slight part of his lips as he breathed. The urge to close that small distance, to press her mouth to his, struck her with such fierce intensity that she had to dig her fingernails into her palms to anchor herself to reality.Get up. Move. Before you do something irreversibly foolish.She extracted herself from the couch with the careful precision of someone defusing a bomb, each movement calculated to avoid disturb
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss thirty eight
“I was walking past the animal shelter on my lunch break, and she was in the window. The volunteer said she’d been returned twice by families who couldn’t handle a puppy’s energy.” Henry’s expression was almost sheepish. “Before I knew it, I was filling out adoption papers.”Despite everything, Lavinia felt a smile tug at her lips. “Henry Wynthorne, the impulsive dog owner. I never would have predicted that.”“Neither would I, to be honest. Which brings me to my problem.” He scrolled to another photo—the puppy apparently having destroyed a throw pillow, stuffing scattered across an expensive-looking rug. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve scheduled a vet appointment for tomorrow evening, but I’m terrified I’m going to do something wrong before then.”Lavinia found herself leaning closer to see the photos, her professional composure finally cracking completely. “She’s beautiful. What did you name her?”“That’s… actually another problem. I keep calling her ‘puppy,’ which hardly seems
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss seven
The whiskey burned Henry Wynthorne’s throat, but he welcomed the sensation. It was the only thing that felt real anymore. He sat alone in his father’s study—now his study—surrounded by leather-bound books and the weight of expectations he’d never wanted.Three months had passed since Verity Langfor
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss six
It was another week before Robert Wynthorne opened his eyes. Henry was dozing in the chair when a weak voice called his name.“Dad?” he said, jolting awake.His father’s eyes were open, clear and alert. The ventilator had been removed the day before when his breathing had stabilized.“Henry,” Rober
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss five
The next day, Henry arrived at the hospital for his father's follow-up appointment to find an unexpected figure sitting in the waiting room. Lavinia Hartwell sat with perfect posture, a thick financial report spread across her lap. Her dark hair was pulled back in its usual neat ponytail, and sh
The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss four
The hospital corridor had become a second home to Henry Wynthorne. The antiseptic smell, the fluorescent lighting, the hushed voices of doctors and nurses—all of it was now painfully familiar. He sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair outside his father's room, his tie loosened, dark circles under
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