ELLA

The door cracks open and reveals sin. Not Agnes with my crash-out ice cream, Devlin, filling the frame.

My heart slams against my ribcage at the surprise.

Why is he even here?

His eyes hit me first, then drops to the thin fabric of my bra. The black lace is basically pointless as the fabric is so sheer I might as well be naked.

I feel the heat crawl up my throat.

I hate that I like it.

“Can we talk?”

I lean against the jamb, one hip cocked, pretending my pulse isn’t slamming ...