Devil’s Due by Eva Charles EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Eva Charles
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available for Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
Ughhhh!” I whack the edge of the frozen laptop. “Why won’t you
“Can’t beat those things into submission. I’ve tried.”
An ominous chill raises gooseflesh, as I struggle to make sense of the
voice. It can’t be. It just can’t be.
Curling my fingers into the leather blotter, I lift only my eyes, peeking
carefully over my lashes. A tremor builds as the animal filling my doorway
comes into focus. Long and lean, a broad shoulder braced against the wooden
frame, his right hand buried deep in the trouser pocket of a trim navy suit.
My heart bangs furiously on my chest wall, as though fighting to escape.
Like the rest of me, it wants to run and hide. But this is my office. My hotel.
And I will not be cowed by JD Wilder.
I try to summon some anger so my voice won’t wobble. My lips part to
speak, but my mouth is dry, my tongue rough and heavy, and the words don’t
“The hotel is stunning,” he drawls, in that seductive baritone he uses to
charm and cajole. “The photo layout in Charleston Monthly doesn’t do it
justice. You’ve done a hell of a job with the restoration.”
His tone rankles me. Arrogant? Condescending? I’m not sure. But the
annoyance stiffens my backbone, and allows the words to flow freely.
“How did you get in here?”
He says nothing.
“I’m sure you didn’t come by after all these years to admire the hotel.
Especially tonight. I’m surprised you’re not at Wildwood Plantation,
celebrating. Or commiserating.”
With two long strides, he eats up the space between us, bringing the dark,
musky scent of sin with him. When I dare to blink, my eyes flit to the
starched white collar grazing his neck. It makes a sharp contrast to a jaw that
hasn’t seen a razor in days.
We peer at each other across the desk. It’s awkward and uncomfortable.
And dammit, my heart hurts. Just a little.
“It’s been too long,” he murmurs.
I lower my eyes to ease the discomfort, but his hands are there. Large and
forbidding, splayed on my desk with both thumbs hooked under the carved
lip. Skillful hands that probed and teased, wakening my flesh with a practiced
touch. Luring me into dark, dreamy corners where there was only pleasure—
until there wasn’t.
I look away, my eyes searching desperately for a place to land.
Somewhere safe that won’t dredge up painful memories. But there’s no
eluding him. No escaping the flood of emotion that took hold of me when he
entered the room.
When I glance up, his jaw is set and his eyes dilated, as though they
haven’t grown accustomed to the dim light in the room. Or maybe he’s
remembering the white-hot nights, too.
The heat creeps up my neck, and I push the salacious thoughts away,
focusing instead on how out of place his callused fingers look against the
polished mahogany. But there is little reprieve for me.
“Gabrielle.” My name glides off his tongue, as though he speaks it all too
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