She nodded eagerly. And that’s when recognition hit. She’d been Rose’s best friend. He’d never understood what had drawn the two girls together. Erica had been short, quiet and shy. Rose was gregarious and effervescent. On the surface, the two didn’t match. Secretly Dev had always thought Erica’s eagerness to please had been why Rose kept her around.
She hadn’t fit into the crowd he and Rose had run with. They’d all been wild and adventurous. Erica had been the quiet girl that everyone sort of ignored. Dev cringed, feeling guilty for the way he’d dismissed her when he was younger.
That guilt might have kept him talking with her, but when he glanced away to find Willow walking through the crowd toward them everything else faded away. She was dynamically gorgeous. His body hardened with the immediate need to touch her. To taste her. To know her in a way he’d been denied before.
The tight cut of her dress left her little choice but to take measured steps, constricting her movements and giving him a perfect view of her sinuous body as she moved.
Several men turned to watch her cut through the crowd. Dev recognized the heat and purpose deep in their eyes, knew his own burned with the same appreciation. An unbidden growl rolled through his chest. Tossing some random words over his shoulder, he left Erica gape-mouthed and headed straight for Willow.
No one else was getting close to her. Tonight, she was his. Finally.
He understood the gazes she drew, like iron filings to a magnet, the force of her unavoidable. The need to kiss her again, right here, right now, in front of every other male, broke deep inside. He resisted. Not only wouldn’t it matter, but Willow wouldn’t appreciate a repeat performance of the public display.
She was still a walking contradiction.
The dress labeled her a siren. But the way her body had trembled when he’d pulled her close to dance, her wary expression and the hesitation in her touch told him a different story.
Her sister’s lies had taken everything from him—including Willow. He’d worked for years to rebuild his life and feel comfortable in his own skin.
She stopped in front of him, staring up through inky-black lashes and blue eyes that were bright and deep. The skin of her shoulders, left bare by her dress, was milky-white and perfectly matched the feathers that arched from either side of her shoulder blades.
He wanted to touch, to run the pad of his finger across her skin to see if it was as smooth and delicate as it looked.
But he didn’t.
The enticing pink tip of her tongue darted out to nervously wet her bottom lip.
“Take me to bed.”
The mask shielded some of her expression, so he couldn’t tell if she was as surprised by her own proposition as he was. That was not what he’d expected to come out of her mouth. He’d actually been waiting for an excuse, for her to come to her senses and realize the danger of what she was doing.
Did she already know who he was? Was she taking advantage of the opportunity fate had plopped into their laps?
“If you want to, that is.” Her voice quivered.
“I’d be an idiot if I didn’t.” Something, possibly the integrity he’d fought hard to rediscover, made him ask, “Are you sure?”
She swallowed and took a single step closer. Slowly, her gaze rolled up to his. Her chin followed until she was looking him square in the eye.
The impact of her stare hit him like a fist. What he saw made every muscle in his body tighten. Pure, unadulterated hunger. It called to him. It stirred something deep inside that had been dormant for years.
“I haven’t been this sure about anything in a long while.”
3
NERVES CHURNED IN Willow’s belly. Ensconced in her own car, the red pickup keeping pace behind her, she had plenty of opportunity to second-guess herself. Maybe she should tell Dev she’d changed her mind.
But the moment they arrived at her home and he stepped from the large red truck, she couldn’t find the words.
Instead she blurted out, “That’s not what I expected,” nodding to the intimidating vehicle behind him.
Heavy lids slid down over glowing blue eyes. The left side of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. He stalked closer. “What were you expecting?”
Reaching for the lapels of his suit, Willow let her fingers run up and down the expensive material. It was soft against her skin. She loved the subtle texture of it. Touching it settled her as nothing else probably could have.
She looked up into his shrouded eyes, still obscured by the mask he was wearing, and the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach disappeared. She wanted this. She wanted him.
For once she was going to be daring and take what she wanted. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about the aftermath.
“Something low and sleek. Fast. Dangerous. Gunmetal-gray, like your tie.” She let her hand slip down the silky line before tugging at the knot to loosen it.
“What an imagination you have. This is a costume. That—” he gestured negligently behind him at the hulking red truck parked in her driveway “—is real.”
Her fingers trailed over the cut of his suit. “This is no costume. I know expensive hand tailoring when I see it.”
She watched as a sheepish grin touched his lips. “All right, I do have a Jag sitting in the garage at home. But it’s also red, so I don’t think that counts.”
“Oh, it counts.” She touched the mask covering his face and then glanced at the truck. “Have a thing for red, do you?”
He ran a finger down her hair. Tingles shattered across her scalp. “Maybe.”
Trusting he would follow, Willow walked into her home. Leaving the door open, she dropped her clutch on the table by the door and threw her keys into the bowl she kept there. The soft click of the lock catching sent a jolt of need through her.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment. His fingers slipped down the curve of her neck. Her skin pebbled in response to his caress.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Did she want him to say yes or did she want him to say no?
“What I want is you.” His voice was close, closer than she’d expected. “To kiss you here.” His fingers trailed across her shoulders. “And here.” His touch continued down her spine. Not even the barrier of her dress could prevent the heat of him from seeping deep inside.
His arm circled her body, pulling her tight against him. Her back pressed into his chest. Her head fell against his shoulder. Feathers arced out from between them, tickling her cheek.
He drew a line down the center of her body, through the valley between her breasts, across her stomach and to the juncture of her thighs. “And here. I want to know the sound you make when you let go. I want the taste of you on my tongue.”
“Yes,” she breathed out. She’d never wanted anything more.
Dev took a step back. She felt the loss of him immediately. She tried to turn, but the weight of his hands on her shoulders held her in place.
Gently, he found the complicated laces that connected her wings to the dress. She’d built loops into the back panel to keep them from drooping.
Willow hadn’t realized the weight of them until they were gone. It was a relief. Several of the feathers escaped, fluttering to the floor around them.
Irrefutable evidence that this angel has truly fallen, she thought.