He was on his side, arms flung out in front of him where they’d been wrapped around her. His hair was spread over the bed behind him, a few long strands winding down his chest between his arms. The sheets bunched around his naked hips, and his skin looked darker through the curtains’ shade, currently blocking the rays of morning sunlight.
She stared at him with a combination of horror and amazement. Horror, because what the hell had she been thinking? Had she gotten too wasted last night and lost control of herself? But no, she couldn’t pretend that was the case. She’d barely been tipsy on the walk home.
The truth was, their off-the-charts chemistry and his indescribable hotness had swept her off her feet, and she’d been more than happy to ignore the memories of the beast burning to ash after having its head chopped off. By claws. That grew out of Ash’s fingers.
Was she ever going to stop thinking about that night? Was she going to push away what seemed like the perfect man because of what was probably just a hallucination, brought on by shock from the shooting in the club?
But it didn’t feel like a hallucination. It felt real. But wasn’t that what all hallucinating people said?
And what about that whispering voice, telling her she was on the verge of discovering why she felt like she didn’t know herself?
Why did she feel like she didn’t know herself anyway? She wasn’t that complicated a person, but she’d always felt oddly vacant, and it made no damn sense. All the soul searching in the world couldn’t give her the answers she sought.
Would she ever make sense of that? Was it a byproduct of the hallucinations or the cause of them?
She may have been sidetracked from her recon last night, but it wasn’t too late to look for clues.
Leaning in, she inspected Ash’s hands as closely as she could without touching him, looking for signs of claws. A little voice in her head screamed that she was being completely irrational, but she ignored it. The memories were too real.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, his hands were perfectly normal. The only abnormal thing about them was how incredibly sexy they were. The veins on the backs were clearly defined, and his fingers were long and graceful. He had the hands of an artist. The hands of a man who could give her multiple orgasms.
She’d never realized she could be so attracted to a man’s hands, for god’s sake. But of course, with him, she was. She was pretty sure she’d be attracted to his ear.
Slipping out of bed, she skirted around the side to look at his back. His hair was in the way, so she gently brushed it aside. He gave a soft moan and stirred slightly, and Eva’s heart instantly melted. She stared at him with hearts in her eyes for a moment until she kicked herself back into focus.
His back was free of any sign that enormous wings might be anchored beside his spine. It was just a normal, human, muscular, sexy back that she wanted to lick and bite every inch of.
Fighting the urge, she tiptoed down the hall until she found where Ash had shed his pants after their first bout of lovemaking and pulled out his wallet. There was no ID, no indications of identity at all. Just a fat wad of cash. Suspicious, certainly, but nothing that said red skin or horns.
She found his phone in his other pocket. It had no passcode and was even less interesting than the contents of his wallet. No apps, emails, or pictures, and only three contacts: Bel, Meph, Raum. Were those his brothers? He’d never actually told her their names. What kind of name wasMephthough?Mefff. Weird.
Guilty conscience alive and humming, she jumped about a foot in the air when the phone rang in her hand at that moment. The call display said “Bel.” She froze, wondering if she should shove it back in his pocket and pretend she hadn’t been near it.
“Eva?” came a sexy, sleepy voice from the bedroom.
“Your phone’s ringing. Want me to bring it?” There. No lying involved.
“Sure.”
She went back to the bedroom where Ash was sitting up, dragging a hand through that gorgeous mane, and passed him the phone. Answering it, he climbed out of bed and strolled shamelessly naked across the bedroom.
“What do you want, Bel?”
“Where are you?”
Asmodeus found his discarded pants and donned them before wandering over to the grand piano, a smile curving his lips when he remembered eating Eva out on top of it last night. He sat on the bench and pressed middle C with his free hand, the clear note ringing through the quiet apartment. “Where do you think?”
“Did you get laid?”
“Yeah.”
“Congratulations.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Well, hell, it’s been a while. I feel like I should get you a trophy or something.”
“Do that and I’ll shove it up your ass.” He played a minor-major-seventh chord for ominous emphasis.
