The Devil She Knows. Kira Sinclair
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tipped off-center. And he was right there with her.
Silk-clad thighs slid slowly up his ribs. Dev settled heavily against the V of her open legs. He felt so good there.
His mouth found her breast and he sucked. The moist heat of him had her arching off the bed.
The rip of fabric tore through the room. A cool gust of air touched her sex. She didn’t care. If it meant he’d touch her then he could ruin every last pair of panties she owned. Hell, she’d sew more.
And then he found her. His fingers slipped through her sex, diving deep. She groaned with the bliss of his touch. He found her hidden spot and stroked. Over and over, until she was delirious with the need for more.
Her hands played mindlessly across his body, the pleasure of touching him increasing her own. He was solid and real. Hers to enjoy. Her mouth rained down kisses on every inch of skin she could reach.
Blindly, she fumbled in the bedside table for the box she kept there, not that she needed it often. Grabbing a condom, she used her teeth to open it and then rolled the tight latex over his pulsing hardness.
She wanted him inside her. Now.
Understanding her unspoken urgency, Dev gave her exactly what she wanted. Rearing back, he brought them together, positioning the swollen head of his erection at the aching opening of her sex.
Slowly, he pushed inside, letting her take him inch by inch. He stretched and filled her. His breath came in short gasps as he slid all the way home. His body trembled. She could feel the tremor straight to her center.
He was everywhere. Surrounding her. Over her. Deep inside. His hips flexed against her, drawing a moan and giving her just a little more.
And then he was moving. With slow, deliberate strokes, he pulled out and then thrust back again. Her hips pumped in time with his. He drove her crazy, bringing her to the brink only to push inside and stay there, motionless, while she writhed.
Every muscle in her body was wound tight. Every nerve ending quivered, waiting for the moment when her world would finally break apart.
When it came, the release hit with a force she’d never experienced before. Was it Dev, or was it the edge of danger? She didn’t know and didn’t care. Everything went black, the tiny bursts of color across her eyelids the only thing in her universe. That and the spot where they joined. The relentless waves of satisfaction.
The frenzy of his release pierced the fog. He thrust into her, his entire body bowing back with tension right before the snap. And then he was calling her name, a guttural groan that echoed deep inside her.
Watching him let go was beautiful, and she wished she’d let him take off the mask so she could see more. See all of him. Before, it had felt right, the barrier she’d kept in place. Now, after what they’d just shared, it felt wrong to have anything between them.
Her body pulsed. Pleasure and something more fizzled through her veins. He collapsed beside her. Willow’s body quivered, a spent mess.
Their legs tangled together, but she was too drained to try to unravel the knot. His arm, draped across her waist, tightened to pull her closer.
“You are definitely no angel.”
* * *
HE WAS IN serious trouble.
Dev stared down at Willow as she slept. He couldn’t settle. His conscience wouldn’t let him. What had he done?
She was going to be pissed when she realized who he was. And, really, he wouldn’t blame her. But the moment he’d followed her inside...he’d been lost.
The sight of her standing in the dark hallway, moonlight falling across her pale skin and those wings...he’d had to touch. And once his fingers slipped across her smooth skin he couldn’t stop.
When she’d told him to keep the masks on he’d been relieved...and guilty as hell. He knew, without a doubt, that the moment she saw his face that would be the end of it. And he’d waited to touch her for so long.
But that didn’t change the fact that he’d royally screwed up. It had been a very long time since he’d let his dick do his thinking. Damn thing tended to get him into serious trouble. The question was, how to fix this? If that was even possible.
With a sigh, Willow rolled onto her side. The skin between her eyes crinkled. Then she burrowed into his prostrate body and her entire face smoothed out into sleepy contentment.
Oh, yeah, he was in deep shit.
Her shocking-red hair spread across the pillow. Staring down at her, Dev was careful not to pull as he threaded his fingers through it. He wanted to know what it would look like without the artificial color. His memory of her told him it should be a deep, rich brown that reminded him of fertile, fresh-tilled soil.
She smelled so good. Pressing his nose close to the exposed crook of her neck, he breathed her in. Something soft, sweet and subtle, like honeysuckle on a perfect summer morning.
He wanted more.
And that was really the crux of the problem. One night with her wasn’t enough. But when she realized who he was...
The thought of that conversation had dread tightening his gut.
He had two choices. He could leave now and avoid the issue all together. Play this off as the one-night stand she probably thought she’d just had. But that really wasn’t going to work for him. Not only did he not want to leave, but he couldn’t avoid the confrontation.
Eventually she was going to see him in town and realize who she’d had amazing sex with.
Or he could stay. Brazen it out and try to convince her that he hadn’t set out to take advantage of her. That screwing her hadn’t been about revenge, but heat and long-denied attraction.
Sliding down, he tucked her body tighter, enjoying the way she fit perfectly against him. Her hair was still clutched in his fist, an unconscious attempt to hold on to what he fully expected to lose.
Had she dyed it for the costume or did she keep it red all the time? He hoped it was temporary. It didn’t suit her. At all. Not that it was bad...it just wasn’t Willow. Or at least, the Willow he remembered.
Although why he thought he understood her at all he didn’t know. Ten years was a long time. He was proof of that. Look at how different he was from the rebellious and angry boy he’d been.
God, he’d been a prick when he’d moved to Sweetheart, defiantly wearing the label on his sleeve. Consumed with pain he didn’t want anyone to see. His mom, a drug addict who’d only cared about her next fix, had died from an overdose. He’d been the one to find her pale body, lifeless and cold. And even if she’d been a shitty mother...she’d been his. And it had hurt.
Everyone looked at him and judged. The other kids he went to school with. The teachers who should have been a source of knowledge and help, but were too busy to notice he was lost. Although, it really hadn’t been their fault. It wasn’t like he was ever around long enough for anyone to put the pieces together.
Dev had lost count how many times his family had been evicted because neither parent could hold a job or bother to pay rent. Moving from place to place meant school to school. After his dad went to jail there’d been several months he hadn’t bothered going to class at all. And no one had noticed.
Before Sweetheart he’d never really had a home. A roof over his head, sure. Not a home. But his grandfather had given him one...at least for a little while.
No matter how long he’d lived there, he’d never quite let himself relax. Five years in one place was unheard of for him. And he just kept waiting for it to end. It was almost a relief, when the look in his grandfather’s eyes changed from exasperated love to enraged disappointment and the fairy tale was finally over.
Once again, everyone had judged him, looking for the worst and finding only what they expected.
But