Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,152

lazily, but the way he holds himself is so assertive and sure that when he turns his head, tossing me a quick glance over his shoulder, it doesn’t even shatter it.

The outside of his apartment is dark, my heels digging into the dirt before his stoop. I watch quietly as he pulls out a set of keys, unlocking the door and giving it a soft shove. It’s no brighter inside, and for a moment, we stand there in the dark, breathing it in.

“No one would dance with me.” I shoot for a sardonic tone, like I’m making fun of myself, but it emerges more maudlin than intended. In truth, I don’t know why I say it at all. There’s something about being alone with him that always makes my tongue a little too loose. Sometimes he calls me a bad liar, but I’m not. I’m good at lying.

Just not to him.

I hear the shift of feet, and then the room is bathed in the soft light of the overhead lamp. Heston’s shrugged out of his jacket, back turned, and I watch the curve of his broad shoulders as he takes his phone from his pocket, head bowed as he thumbs at the screen. When music starts playing, he sets it down, turning to me.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” he starts, pushing the coffee table aside.

“Oh, I-I didn’t mean…” I’m struck speechless by the way he looks at me, his blue eyes somehow both hardened and gentle. He holds my stare as he rolls up his sleeves, and I’m powerless to do anything but set down my purse.

I’d unpinned my hair on the drive, and when I reluctantly step up to him, he reaches out to brush it back, revealing my bare shoulder. His eyes fix on the skin there, even as his hand rests on my waist, the other raised to fold my palm into his. I peer up at him, expecting to find something awkward or unpleasant when our gazes finally meet.

But I should have known better.

Heston straightens his shoulders and smoothly leads me in a tight, expert waltz.

I try to keep the smile off my face, but it breaks free, causing me to slightly misstep. “You’re way too good at this.”

There’s a mirth in his eyes that takes me aback to see. “Better than you,” he says, turning us in a swift move to avoid the armchair.

“Uh huh.” I give him a conspiratorial smirk. “How are you at twirling?”

He answers by pushing me out on the next step, sending me spinning. I feel the dress flare out as I whirl, a laugh escaping my chest as I turn. He lets me indulge myself, spinning me until my laughter grows breathless. Maybe it’s not under the bright lights of crystal chandeliers, or on the marble expanse of a ballroom floor, or done for all to see, but I find it doesn’t matter.

It’s exactly what I wanted.

That’s what I want to tell him when I finally stop, but the words get caught in my throat. The dizzying feeling is only half from the twirling. The rest is from the way he’s looking at me, eyes bright and hungry. Without putting any words to it, I reach behind me, fumbling for the zipper on my dress. His eyes darken at the sound of it lowering, and then follow as I push the straps off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

His mouth parts only enough that I can see the pink hint of his tongue prodding at the seam. “You need it?” he asks, voice gravelly and quiet.

“No.” I step out of the dress, bringing me right to his front, and peer up into his heavy eyes. Pushing my hand up the hem of his shirt, I say, “I just want it.”

His jaw goes tense and releases right before he ducks down to take my mouth in a hard, scorching kiss. I revel in the sound he makes, something desperate and pleased, as I wind my arms around his neck. His hands find the small of my back, and this time he spins me in the hall's direction, walking me back.

When I land on the bed, the first thing I reach for is the button on his jeans. Heston’s with me, tugging his shirt over his head and pushing me back, curling over me as he licks into my mouth. Somewhere between there and my back meeting the mattress, he manages to get my bra unhooked. His hands