There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

WE HEAD BACK to Cole’s house, which is beginning to feel like my house.
Not because I own it, but because I love it so much. I love the stark,
forbidding face, the jumble of pointed dormers and dark gables. The ornate
woodwork and the black stone.
Most of all, I love this perch high up on the cliffs, with the endless cycle of
waves crashing below.
The wind blows off the bay, wild and cold. It’s the chilliest November on
record. People keep making stupid jokes about how we could really use that
global warming right now. Janice said it to me this morning.
As Cole opens the door for me, I think perhaps I like the smell of his house
best of all.
He’s lived here alone for more than a decade. The scent is all his: leather and
clay, the spice of his cologne, ocean salt, wet rock after rain. And running
through it like a vein, my own scent as well. As perfect a pairing as any I’ve
created with food. More delicious than banana and bacon, or avocado and
jam.
The textures and colors of his house soothe me. Everything is muted and
dark, but so lovely. Cole could never bear anything garish or loud.
The deep chocolate boards creak beneath my feet. The diaphanous curtains
blow back from the open windows with a sound like a sigh, letting the sea
breeze into the house.
Cole heads up to his room to change out of his clothes. He’s fastidious and
doesn’t like to wear the same shoes and trousers that made contact with the
outside world. He’ll come down in a minute, probably wearing some oldfashioned
smoking jacket and a pair of velvet slippers.
I’ll have to change clothes as well, as I’m still covered in paint.
For the moment, my attention is caught by my laptop, still open on the table
where Cole left it.
I don’t care that he was reading my emails. I would have been incensed if
anyone had done it a few weeks ago, but we’re well past that now.