GOD, HER HEAD HURT. Willow groaned and tried to curl her body into a ball. Everything hurt.
There was something wrong. She was in trouble. Alarm and confusion crashed down over her, flooding her body with a burst of adrenaline. She had to move. Get away. But she couldn’t remember why.
A soft hand brushed against her forehead. She whimpered, not because it hurt but because it felt so good. Soothing. Safe.
Slowly, her eyes opened and she stared up into a dark blue gaze.
“Hang in there, angel. Help’s on the way.”
She nodded. Reality was seeping back in, a black-edged nightmare. Or maybe this was a dream.
No, her body hurt too much for that.
The hard floor pressed against her. Her head was cradled in Dev’s lap. Rolling her eyes, she saw another pair of legs sticking out from beneath her worktable. Following the line of them, she realized they belonged to Erica Condon, who was unconscious, her arms twisted behind her back and tied together with a white strip of material.
She licked her lips. “How?”
Dev bent down, pressed his lips against hers in the softest touch and whispered, “Shh.”
Sirens wailed in the distance.
“I was already on my way back when I got your call.”
She’d called him? She supposed it made sense since he was probably the last person she’d phoned. She hadn’t exactly been in a chatty mood the past few days.
“You were already on your way back?”
Closing his eyes, Dev pressed his forehead to hers for several seconds before nodding.
“I love you, Willow. And I’m not willing to walk away. Or let you push me away. I’m going to stay and fight this time. Even if you don’t want me to.
“I screwed up. I should have told you about Natalie, but I was afraid. When I came to Sweetheart, I thought what I was looking for was closure. A chance to put the past behind me and lay to rest the ghosts of my mistakes and bad choices.”
He pulled away, that dark and dangerous gaze caressing her face. A shiver raced through her body.
“I came back for you.”
His arms tightened around her, bands of hard muscle that made her feel safe. Her body relaxed, sinking into the comfort and security of him.
Circling her arms around his neck, Willow pulled him back down to her. Her words kissed his mouth. “Tell me again.”
“What?”
“That you love me.”
With a groan, he closed his eyes and brought them skin to skin. She enjoyed the gentle rasp of his stubble-roughened jaw against her cheek. “I love you so much it hurts,” he promised.
Threading her fingers into the hair at his nape, Willow whispered, “I know. I was so afraid. You broke my heart once, and I wasn’t sure I could live through it again.”
“You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But what about your business? You have a life in Atlanta, Dev. And my studio is here.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“I could move to Atlanta.”
“No.” Dev shook his head, a stubborn glint shooting through his eyes.
“You hate Sweetheart.”
The pad of his thumb slipped across her bottom lip. “No, I don’t. You’re here and that’s all that matters. But, believe it or not, the place has kinda grown on me.”
The wail increased. A sharp whine sounded as someone squealed into the alley at the back of the store.
He had just enough time to say, “We have plenty of time to figure out the details, Willow,” and then people were flooding in the back door.
Sheriff Grant and two of his deputies. A couple of paramedics. Chaos swirled around her, but through it all Dev was right beside her, refusing to let her go.
* * *
DEV CRACKED OPEN Willow’s bedroom door. Even as he worried about disturbing her, he couldn’t stop himself. It had been difficult to let her out of his sight.
She’d scared the hell out of him and he wasn’t sure how quickly the need to reassure himself that she was fine would fade. Or if it ever would.
He’d lost so many people...the thought of losing her, too, still scared him. But not enough to let her go.
His eyes scanned the bed, surprised to find it empty. The covers were a rumpled pile, but Willow wasn’t beneath them. A quick jolt of alarm shot through him as his eyes swept the room.
He found her standing in front of the wide windows facing out onto the street. Her arms were wrapped around her body and she stared, a sad, faraway expression on her face.
On quiet feet, he padded across the room, slipping his arms around her and pulling her back against his body.
She melted into his hold. Warmth crawled through him.
“Do you need one of the pain pills the doc gave you?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Just a little achy. Nothing some ibuprofen can’t fix.”
He stirred against her. “Let me get you some.”
Her arms wrapped around his, locking him in place. “In a minute.”
Her body was lax, her heat slipping through the thin nightgown and silk robe into him. But he could practically hear the wheels grinding together in her head.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed. “How did everyone miss it? Erica worked for Hope.” Willow pointed out the window to the house down the street. “She lived right there for years. How did none of us know?”
A heavy weight settled in his chest. He hated that anything ugly had touched Willow. She was so giving and protective.
Erica Condon had stalked her and attacked her, but that didn’t stop her from worrying about the woman.
“She’d had years of practice hiding secrets. Grant said she broke down, years and years of suppressed anguish and resentment pouring out of her. She was emotionally and physically abused.”
“How could we not know?” she asked again, sorrow filling her words.
“You aren’t responsible for the world, Willow. She’s going to get the help she needs. That’s all we can do for her.”
With gentle pressure, he turned her away from the window. Staring at Erica’s house wasn’t going to help her.
His hands slipped beneath the robe that she’d left open. He circled her waist, enjoying the soft glide of silk against skin.
God, he wanted her. He couldn’t be this close to her and not want her. But she’d been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours and the last thing she needed was him pushing her.
So he pulled back, putting several precious inches between them. He searched her face, looking for signs of strain or pain. When he didn’t find any, the constricting weight that had been sitting on his chest since he’d gotten that call finally began to ease.
“Are you hungry?”
Slowly, she nodded.
“Do you want me to make you something?”
The tip of her tongue swept out across her lips. His gaze was pulled there. He was human, after all. Her lips were wet and tempting. His fingers tightened at her hips, trying to find a slippery hold on the control he was quickly losing.
“No,” she said, taking a single step to close the gap. Her body pressed against him, soft curves meeting hard planes.
Her head tipped back so that she could look him square in the eyes. And what he saw there made him swallow.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice gravelly with his need to touch her.
“You.” Her simple answer drew a groan from deep in his belly.
With one last valiant effort at control, he tried to push her away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
But she wouldn’t let him. Rolling up onto her toes, she brought their mouths together. “You won’t. I trust you, Dev. I need you. Please.”
He couldn’t refuse her anything, least of all something he wanted just as desperately.
Picking her up, he brought them together. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist and she clung to him. Her eyes filled with passion and he felt the answering heat building deep inside.
She was beautiful, her dark hair a cloud around her face. The robe slipped from her shoulders, falling to the floor in a puddle. Her skin was pale and soft.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his mouth finding her. Her scent, honeysuckle and Willow, filled him.
She grabbed on to his hair, tugging until he looked up at her.
She was his. Finally. His own angel. He loved her, tarnished halo and all. She knew everything. Saw straight through him. And still wanted him. Loved him. Accepted him, flaws and all.
Dev had no idea what he’d done to deserve her, but he had every intention of appreciating the gift he’d been given.
Turning, he placed her in the center of the bed. He started at the curve of her foot and trailed his mouth upward. Soft, worshipping kisses. She writhed beneath him, panting.
“You’re killing me,” she ground out against the building fever.
His lips curved against her skin. “I don’t think anyone’s ever died from delayed gratification.”
Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. “You really are a devil.”
“Yeah, angel, but you love me.”
Willow pulled away, putting several inches between them so she could stare straight into his eyes, into his soul. And she let him see all of her.
In that moment there were no masks. No disguises. No walls or barriers or past between them. More than just skin to skin, they were naked. And he’d never loved her more.
It had taken them ten years, but they’d finally found each other again. And he had no intention of ever letting her go.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Closer by Rhonda Nelson!