devon-sinclair

What I can make people do . . . it__ not what they want to do. It may sound corny, but I want people to like me for me, not because I can force them to or because of who my mom is or who I am in the Family. You know?__e raised his green gaze to my blue one. __hat__ one of the things I like about you, Lila. You don__ care about any of that.___ust one of the things?_ I teased, trying to make him laugh a little, just so he__ forget his guilt and grief, if only for a few moments.__ust one._ His voice took on a low, husky note. __ could list all the others, if you want.__y gaze locked with his and my soulsight kicked in, showing me all of his emotions. And I felt them, too__ore intensely than I ever had before. His heart still ached with that soul-crushing guilt, and it always would. But that hot spark I__ seen inside him that first day at the Razzle Dazzle had finally ignited into a roaring fire, burning as hot and bright as my own emotions were right now.Devon hesitated, then leaned in, just a little. My breath caught in my throat.He inched forward a little more. I wet my lips.He came even closer, so close that his warm breath brushed my cheek and his scent flooded my nose, that sharp, fresh tang of pine. Clean and crisp, just like he was, inside and out. I sighed. Suddenly, my hands itched to touch him, to trace my fingers over the sharp planes of his face, and then slide them lower, over all of his warm, delicious muscles . . .__ila,_ he whispered.I shivered, loving the sound of my name on his lips__ips that were heartbreakingly close to mine_