There Is No Devil by Sophie Lark EPUB & PDF– eBook Details Online
- Author: Sophie Lark
- Language: English
- Genre: Holiday Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
MARA
I wake to the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. Cole
keeps all his windows open on the north side of the house. I smell salt
and iron, the scent of the bay. Fog drifts into the room, swirling around
the posters of the old-fashioned bed.
I slip out from under the heavy coverlet, naked, my nipples stiffening in the
cold. The fog condenses on my warm skin, making me slippery as a seal.
Cole has left a silk robe for me—the kind a vintage film star would have
worn. It swirls around my body, heavy, sumptuous, and ridiculously
extravagant.
He left slippers for me as well, but I ignore those, preferring to pad across
his thick Turkish rugs in my bare feet.
Walking through the halls of Seacliff is like walking through Versailles after
hours. It seems outrageous that I’m even allowed inside this place, let alone
that I live here.
I could never have imagined what real wealth looks like, what it feels like
to the touch. Palatial, empty, echoing space. Priceless art hung in distant
wings where months or even years could pass without a single person
viewing it. The aesthetic perfection of every last faucet and doorknob—
each made of the finest materials. Patinaed with age, but never becoming
broken or run down.
Motion sensors are everywhere. He already knows I’m awake.
Cole is the most observant person I’ve ever met. He uses technology to
enhance what he can see, what he can hear, until he’s god-like in his reach.
Inside this house, he could always be listening. He could always be
watching.
I want him to be.
I’m safe from the rest of the world when I’m under his eye, under his
protection. No one can hurt me, no one can touch me.
Except Cole himself.
I walk down the wide, curving staircase to the main level, the long train of
the robe trailing behind me like a wedding gown. I haven’t belted it. I see
the hunger in Cole’s dark eyes when he sees my bare breasts slipping in and
out of view within the folds of the liquid, shimmering silk.
He’s already dressed for the day, the soft black waves of his hair still damp
from his shower. Freshly shaved, the sensual curves of his mouth and the
sharp line of his jaw look impossibly youthful. He’s ageless. Eternal.
Beautiful in a way that hurts me, that grabs hold of my heart in my chest
and squeezes hard.
He holds out a double-walled glass, the layers of espresso, milk, and foam
seeming to float in space.
“I made you a latte.”
He must have started it the moment I opened my eyes. Perfectly timed to
the minutes it would take me stretch, slip out from under the covers, pull on
the robe, and pad down the stairs.
His precision terrifies me.
In the same breath, I feel deep admiration for what I—distracted and
impulsive as I am—could never hope to accomplish.
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