Prologue
He buried his long fingers into my sweater and pulled me roughly against his taut body. His skin was achingly hot, and where his skin touched me, goosebumps flushed on my skin. I refused to look at him, knowing it would be my undoing if I did. Instead, I looked past him, not knowing my eyes would catch sight of the tan, rounded flesh of his bare ass in the mirror. I shut my eyes then, my legs almost giving out, but his hands held me up, steading me in my otherwise state of instability.
"Look at me," he demanded. His voice was low, forceful. I kept my eyes closed, my heart thrumming against my rib cage. I knew he could feel it, my heart. After all this time, he was touching me, and I couldn't face it. I wanted to hide, cry, scream. Anything to keep me from doing what I really wanted. I couldn't give in to him, not now, not ever. "Detective," he paused. "Chloe…"
At the sound of my name, which he rarely used, I opened my eyes into his, and my stomach clenched in knots. His dark eyes searched mine; I couldn't tell what he was thinking, I never could. Despite his usually overwhelmingly cocky, outgoing personality, and his insistence of his complete and total honesty, I never could tell what he was about. There was a sort of sexy uncertainty with him that always thrilled me, even when I wasn't sure how I felt. As a partner, he challenged me and protected me, but as a friend…or more, I was confused.
"Please tell me, detective. What are you thinking?"
"I…I don't know…I'm so overwhelmed." I said, looking away from him again, this time studying the floor.
"I never lied to you detective," he said.
I was able to meet his eyes again. "No, you didn't. I had just thought your life was a big metaphor, not that you were actually..."
"Actually what?"
I shook my head.
"Say it, detective. I'm actually what?"
I pulled away, turning my back to him, shaking my head. "Dan told me to stay away from you."
"And you think you should listen to Detective Douche? Look at me Chloe." When I turned my head to look at him, he was closer to me, his dark eyes flashing. "Are you scared of me?"
That was the question, wasn't it? This man has stood by me for years, acting as my partner and friend. I had never felt scared or uncomfortable around him, but how do I feel now that I know the truth? He told me, thousands of times in fact, and yet I didn't believe him. Who would? There were things about him I couldn't explain, yes, but how could I ever think the answer was this?
Looking at him now, his face uncharacteristically serious, I felt the answer on my lips. But before I could respond, the elevator doors opened, and his face contorted into shock.
"Eve?"
"Hello Lucifer."