EVELYN RUBBED HER palm where he’d touched her. It wasn’t much more than two people holding hands, but it had felt much more intimate. The demon inside her had come to life, humming, heating her core, planting an unholy need between her legs every time his thumb pressed into the soft webbing between her fingers. The demon inside her had begged for another part of him to press deep into her core. The wicked flesh between her legs pulsed with need. Her breasts strained against the confines of her new brassiere. She’d never owned one before, but now she was grateful for the concealing fabric, even if the stitching rubbed painfully against her nipples. At least he couldn’t see what his touch had done to her, and she’d never tell.
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