Just Out! THE DEVIL AND VIA by MARIE TREANOR

Sun, sex and Satanism — and Via is the chief sacrifice…

The seventh child of a seventh child, Via has always lived a life just shy of normal. That life is also a mess. She hears things other people don’t, and has prophetic dreams she can never quite remember. Eager to escape, she jumps at the chance for a cushy summer job in Italy—where her life goes from merely messy to downright disastrous.

Taxi driver Giancarlo knows what it’s like to feel vulnerable, and can bear any burden—except pity. Rescuing Via from the clutches of a nightmarish satanic cult comes easy. Shielding his heart from her determination to become his lover is a different story. But in her irresistible arms, he begins to believe it’s worth the risk.

Then Via discovers why she is the target of Marinuzzi, a murderous Satanist. He wants her newly unleashed psychic gifts for himself, and he’ll do anything to convince her to give them up, including trap Via into an impossible choice.

A choice that would save Giancarlo’s life—but take away his reason to live.

Here's an adult excerpt to tempt you :)

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He said, “Do you know how much I’ve wanted to kiss you?” She stumbled. Her grip tightened as she regained her balance, and he added softly, “All over?”

Her laughter was a little breathless. Under his finger on her wrist, her pulse raced, and he knew he still affected her. He felt exultant. If he got any harder, he wouldn’t be able to walk. But he made no effort to hide his erection, and when he saw her gaze flicker down to it and linger, he was fiercely glad.

“So, where is this apartment of yours?” he asked as they passed the café.

“Next turning,” she said, and coughed a little as if to hide the trembling of her voice. Was she scared of him or—surely not now—just as desperate as he was to make love?

“Are you going to invite me in?” he asked.

She smiled nervously. “For coffee?” she teased.

“I was thinking of the hot sex again, but coffee’s a start.”

She laughed, and he caressed the soft skin between her thumb and forefinger. At the side of the bakery, she led him through a gate and up a rickety flight of steps to a tiny garden. There, while he gazed over the darkened roofs, she unlocked the French doors.

“Quick,” she said, “before the mosquitoes get in.”

He brushed past her into the house. She snapped the light on, saying, “Coffee, then?”

“Stuff the coffee,” said Giancarlo roughly, reaching for her with both hands. Her shoulders were soft and warm under his fingers, setting the blood pounding afresh in his tortured body. Her green eyes looked huge as they gazed up into his, betraying hope as well as anxiety and, when he slid his fingers under the straps of her dress, a desire surely as fierce as his own. “I want my kiss,” he whispered, easing the straps away so they fell down her arms. With one finger, he traced the neckline of her dress as it dropped lower across her breasts, stroking as far as the bra would let him.

Her skin was flushed, her breathing too quick and unsteady. He bent his head, noticing with fierce triumph that her lips parted for him, as if of their own volition. A moment longer, he let his lips hover there, increasing the anticipation. Then, closing his palm over her breast, he took her mouth in his.

A sigh that was almost a moan broke from her. She opened for him at once, sweetly responsive. She tasted of coffee and tiramisu and something simply Via, and he couldn’t get enough of her. He caught her tongue around his, twisting, dancing, drawing it into his own mouth. As he deepened the kiss, she moaned again, pushing her body into him so hard that he stumbled back against the door. Her lips and teeth were suddenly wild, sucking and biting him to insanity while her body writhed against him.

Without breaking the astounding kiss, he grasped her by the waist, lifting her, turning her so he could hold her captive against the door and grind his hardness into her. At the same time, he pushed down her bra, seeking and finding her pebbled nipples, stroking over and over with his thumb, then pinching till she all but sobbed. Her hands were on his back, burrowing under his shirt, running all over his naked skin until he wondered if he was actually capable of drawing back now.

As if she heard his desperate thought, she gasped against his lips. “You said if you kissed me, you wouldn’t stop.”

“That was last week,” he said, and dived back into her mouth. He roved his hands over her hips, down her thighs, feeling with ferocious joy every tiny movement of her responsive flesh. His fingers caught the hem of her dress and tugged.

Tearing his lips free of hers for a moment, he whispered, “Do you know what I want to do?”

Laughter trembled on her swollen lips. “I could hazard a guess!”

He reached between her legs, making her gasp again. She was so hot, the wispy cotton covering her so wet, that he groaned with the genuine anguish of utter loss. But he wouldn’t stop, not yet. “I want to push my cock right inside you now, fuck you till you beg for mercy. Would you like that, Via? Would you?”

Her fingers grasped his arms. She pushed against the hand on her pussy, twisting. “Stop talking, Giancarlo,” she said shakily. “Just do it!”