Читать книгу The Devil She Knows - Kira Sinclair - Страница 12

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WILLOW WOKE SLOWLY, a delicious smile curving her lips before she’d even opened her eyes. Stretching, her body protested in the strangest places.

And then she remembered.

She sat bolt upright, clutching the lavender sheet to her naked chest.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed out to the empty room.

It hadn’t been a dream. She’d really been that wanton and unabashedly reckless.

Her face flamed with delayed embarrassment. The things she’d done...and let him do to her.

With a groan, she dropped back into the pile of pillows, shielding her face with her arm.

Was it a good thing that she was alone? Or should she be pissed that he’d left while she was asleep? Maybe she should call Tatum and ask her just what morning-after protocol called for.

Memories of last night flashed across her closed lids. A dark head between her open thighs as pleasure spiraled ruthlessly through her. Silky strands clutched between her demanding hands as she kept him right where she wanted him.

His body sliding sinuously against hers in a relentless rhythm that drove her crazy.

Her body hummed, electrified by nothing more than the ghosts of what they’d done to each other and the lingering scent of sex that still clung to her skin.

“Well, that’s certainly a nice vision to walk in on.”

With a startled yelp, Willow jackknifed up off the bed. Her hair fell into her eyes, obscuring her vision. The velvety-smooth sound of his chuckle slipped down her spine, sending tingles of awareness with it.

Her internal muscles contracted with remembered pleasure and the need for more. Willow ignored their demand.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she realized two things at once. First, the sheet was puddled in her lap leaving her bare from the waist up.

Snatching at the edge, she pulled it up to her chin.

His sinfully sculpted mouth twitched and the dark slash of a single eyebrow rose. “Little late for that, isn’t it?”

Ignoring him, Willow gathered the sheet around her like a shield. It was about the only one she had left.

Pushing away from the door frame he’d negligently propped himself against, he moved into her private space with a powerful grace that made her want to hate him. His black pants were slung low on his hips, leaving the top slashes of the V of sculpted muscle visible.

She remembered running her tongue down those matching creases straight to the Promised Land they pointed to. Her skin flushed hotter.

He sank to the bed beside her, his hip dipping the mattress so she had to brace to keep from rolling against him.

Silently, he held out a mug to her. Steam curled up from the surface, bringing with it the delectable scent of coffee.

Willow narrowed her eyes, staring at it for several seconds before deciding she was really going to need the jolt.

Because the second thing she realized was that she knew exactly who had slept in her bed last night. She didn’t like him. And he’d lied to her.

She fortified herself with several sips before stretching to the opposite side of the bed and setting the mug down. Better not to have this conversation with hot liquid in her hands. He might just end up burned.

He watched her, warily. Obviously he was fully prepared for the conversation they were about to have. Just one more reason to be pissed. Had he known who she was from the first moment?

Shifting away from him, Willow glared. “Your name isn’t Dev.”

His mouth tightened, but that was his only reaction to the accusation in her voice. “Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Interesting. That’s what my birth certificate says.”

“That’s not funny, Wick.”

“Do you see me laughing, Willow? And don’t call me that.”

No, he wasn’t laughing. At least not on the outside. She couldn’t help but think he was probably hooting and hollering on the inside about the coup he’d just pulled.

As if ruining her sister’s marriage and betraying her hadn’t been enough for him, he’d decided to weasel his way into getting what he’d always wanted—her, naked.

Although, she had to admit, she’d been pretty eager to shed her clothes last night and hadn’t put up much of a fuss.

Guilt and regret mixed with her anger, blunting it in a way that was far from satisfying. Trust her conscience to surface just when she needed righteous indignation.

She’d had a one-night stand with a stranger. A masked stranger. She hadn’t exactly expected to wake up with a paragon of virtue. But she hadn’t expected to wake up with Wick, either. The only man who’d ever tempted her to sin.

A groan rolled up through her chest, but she cut it off before it broke free. That alone should have told her who touched her. No one had ever made her feel so electrified and alive with nothing more than a look.

He’d always had that effect on her. But she hadn’t seen him in ten years and had no reason to expect him in Sweetheart—let alone beneath the devil’s mask.

“Why not? What’s wrong with Wick?”

“It isn’t my name. Never has been. The only people who’ve ever called me that are the people in this town. And, as you can imagine, I don’t like the reminder very much.”

They’d called him Wicked Wick. She remembered hearing her sister purr his name, the single word filled with the kind of raw sensuality that, at seventeen, she hadn’t completely understood.

Oh, she did now. An unwanted shiver of memory erupted in goose bumps across her skin.

To hide her reaction, Willow climbed from the bed, making sure the sheet stayed tightly wrapped around her body. With the bed between them she felt a little steadier. Until those midnight eyes full of banked heat and promise raked across her.

“Why are you here?”

Standing, Dev rounded the bed, never breaking his hold on her gaze. She grudgingly gave him credit. After that one brief singeing glance, he kept his focus squarely on her face.

He closed the space between them. Willow shifted, trying to get far enough away that she could think clearly. And deal with the situation. But there was nowhere for her to go.

Her back hit the edge of the dresser. Behind her, several bottles and trinkets trembled at the contact. Straightening her spine, Willow pulled the shreds of her composure around her like a shield. She refused to let him see that he got to her.

But he didn’t stop. His body crowded into her space. Her back bowed under the pressure of his presence. The heat of him overwhelmed her. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t have to.

The wide expanse of his naked chest spread out before her. She couldn’t swallow. She wanted to touch, but somehow found the force of will to clench her fists tighter into the sheet instead.

Even in the light of day, the dark, wicked edge that made him irresistible was there. She fully understood why every girl within a certain age range—and several outside of it—had thrown themselves at Wick...Dev...when he’d lived in Sweetheart.

Not even she had been immune to the draw of him. She’d hardly been worldly, but that kind of tense beauty was hard to miss. He’d always exuded a sensuality that just begged to be tamed.

Apparently the pull had only gotten stronger. At least, on her.

The flat of his palms pressed against the mirror behind her. She reacted to him, every cell coming alive with remembered pleasure and hopeful anticipation.

Traitor.

This man had ruined her sister’s life. And if she wasn’t careful he’d hurt her, as well. Again.

Dark blue eyes bored into hers. She couldn’t read his expression. Gone was the sensual, giving man of last night. He’d been replaced by someone harder and more perilous.

Whatever he called himself now, he had no moral compass. Because if he did, he would have told her last night exactly who he was. Not given her a name she wouldn’t recognize.

“Why am I here?” His voice was soft and dangerous. A prickle of unease shot down her spine. “In your bedroom or in town?”

“Either. Both. Ten years is a long time. Why are you back now?”

“I’m in town because I’m the landscape designer for the new resort.”

Willow pulled in a shallow gasp. A devilish grin played across his lips, but it didn’t quite fully form. He was holding back. And enjoying her shocked reaction.

Bastard.

What kind of game was he playing? And why was he using her? Had last night been some kind of sick payback for what had happened between them?

God, she hoped not. But she was afraid she’d played right into his hands.

He lifted a lock of her hair, running it through his thumb and finger from crown to tip. The back of his hand brushed against the side of her breast. Willow sucked in a breath. His eyes sharpened. And her body burst into life.

His voice was a caress all its own, low and sultry. She couldn’t help remembering the sinful words he’d whispered to her last night. “I’m in your bedroom because you asked me to take you to bed.”

God, she wanted him. Still. Even knowing what he’d done and how he’d deceived her last night, her body craved his touch.

Somehow she found the strength to say, “You should leave.” But the words trembled. She hoped he didn’t hear the waver.

Something sharp flared deep in his eyes. His mouth tightened and beside her head the fingers pressed hard to the mirror flexed dangerously. His eyelids slid down, hiding the rest of his reaction from her.

He smoldered with anger. This close to him, she could practically smell the brimstone and fire of it. But he didn’t move. Instead, he let his hot eyes travel across her face for several seconds.

Willow couldn’t breathe. She waited.

“We aren’t done, Willow.”

“Oh, yes we are. You ruined my sister’s life, Wick. Dev. Whoever the hell you are.”

His head recoiled as if she’d hit him. Bringing them nose to nose, he stared into her, straight down to her soul. “You know exactly who I am, angel.”

“Last night was a mistake. If I’d known who you were it never would have happened.”

“I know.”

Everything inside her stilled. Those two words managed to cut through the fog of desire he was weaving around her.

“What do you mean, you know? Exactly when did you figure out who I was?”

“The moment I got my hands on you. And once I touched you, I knew I couldn’t let you go until I’d had more.”

“So to hell with what I might have wanted?”

“Don’t kid yourself, angel. We both know you got exactly what you wanted last night. A taste of the wild side with a depraved devil. I did the right thing and kept my hands off you once before. I wasn’t about to make that same mistake twice.” He pushed away from her.

She felt the loss of his warmth and hated herself a little bit for the weakness.

“You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

His mouth twisted. “Actually, no, I’m not. This town just has the ability to pull the worst out of me. Believe it or not, Willow, I had no intention of seducing you last night. I was just as overwhelmed by the friction between us as you were.”

His unexpected and candid confession left her speechless. The words deflated some of the self-righteous anger she’d been using to combat her own guilt and embarrassment.

He’d even taken that.

But before she could say anything more, he snatched the rest of his clothes from the chair in the corner and walked out.

Although not before getting in one last parting shot. “You’re old enough to know better than to believe everything you hear, Willow. You have no idea what happened between Rose and me. But I promise you, it was nothing like last night.”

* * *

WILLOW TRIED TO go on with her day, to pretend nothing had happened, but it was difficult. In a bid for distraction, she barricaded herself in her design studio and tried to lose herself in the dress she was making for a country music star who had recently crossed over and become a pop sensation. She was also marrying one of the most well-known quarterbacks in the NFL.