Devon's smile widened—slow, predatory, and utterly wicked—when he heard her whispered confession, the vulnerability in her voice hitting him like a drug, fueling the fire already raging in his veins.
His eyes darkened to near-black depths, pupils blown wide with a heady, intoxicating mixture of amusement and raw, unfiltered hunger that made his cock twitch back to life against his thigh.
He hovered over her for a long, deliberate moment, savoring the way she lay there beneath him—wrecked and wanting, her body a canvas of his making.
One powerful forearm braced on the mattress beside her head, caging her in, while the other hand trailed feather-light down her side, fingertips skimming the rumpled cream silk of her dress—still bunched obscenely around her hips from their earlier frenzy, the fabric stained with streaks of his cum and her own arousal, clinging to her sweat-slicked skin like a second layer.
