Free A Caress of Wings by Sylvia Day Page A

eyes bright and his charm evident. The blonde was riveted, her attention focused solely on him.
    Gasping for a deep breath, Siobhán forced herself to look away and continue toward the elevator, fighting an unknown stinging in her eyes that made her feel terribly exposed. She hated the pretty woman who could enjoy Trevor without restriction, and she hated herself for feeling that way. If the blonde made him happy, Siobhán wanted to be happy, too. She
should
be, if she hadn’t fallen so far from grace.
    Stabbing her finger into the call button for the elevator, she willed the car to hurry so she could retreat into privacy. As the doors slid open, she rushed inside, affording herself one last look at him.
    He’d stopped and was staring directly at her.
    Her breath caught and her heart ceased beating for an endless moment.
No,
she thought.
Please don’t remember me.
    “Hold the elevator!” he shouted across the distance between them, lunging into motion.
    Spurred by the need for flight, she pushed the button to close the doors, seeing his jaw set with determination as the two halves slid together and shut him out. Siobhán sagged heavily into the brass handrail of the moving car, her chest heaving. It had been a mistake to come. He’d been fine. She’d been fine. Coming here had only stirred things up again.
    When the elevator arrived on the garage level, she stepped out into the cool, dark space and headed toward her vehicle, her blood rushing through her ears. The outrageously powerful response of her body to emotions she shouldn’t be capable of feeling rattled the very foundations of who she’d been created to be. Because of
him
. Because being around Trevor did something to her she couldn’t fight or control.
    “Hey! Hold up.”
    She stumbled, startled to hear Trevor calling out behind her. The pounding of his booted feet grew louder as he drew closer at a dead run. She faced him, feeling almost dizzy with delight that he’d come after her . . . followed swiftly by fear of what the consequences could be.
    He was dressed in navy cargo pants and matching T-shirt, looking very much like the EMT he was. His hair had grown long enough to touch his collar in the back and drape over his forehead in the front. Her hands clenched against the desire to touch it again, to see how it felt with its new length. He’d ditched his luggage somewhere. And the pretty blonde.
    He skidded to a halt in front of her and grinned. “Hi.”
    She looked up at him, unable to resist smiling back. His eyes were bright and his mood boisterous. “Hi.”
    He held his hand out to her. “Trevor Descansos.”
    “Siobhán.” She shook his hand, feeling a tingle race up her arm from his touch. She abruptly remembered the taste of him and the power of his kiss.
    “Shiv-awn,” he repeated, caressing her name with his voice. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
    “Thank you.” She loosened her grip on him, but he wouldn’t let go.
    “I know this is abrupt, but do you have time for coffee? Or lunch? Or anything?”
    Something fluttered in her stomach. “I’m sorry. Have we met before?”
    “No,” he said emphatically. “Trust me, I’d remember. I saw you and you hit me like a two-by-four between the eyes. I know that sounds like a line, but I’m serious. So take pity on me and give me a few minutes of your time. Or a few hours. Could I talk you into a few days? Maybe a week or few?”
    She laughed, couldn’t help it. “Don’t you have plans?”
    His brows rose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “You had luggage.”
    “So you did see me.” Trevor pulled their joined hands up to rest over his heart. “I’m crushed. You ditched me.”
    “You had someone with you.” She didn’t mean to sound piqued.
    “Don’t be jealous. I was waiting for you. My whole life, I think. So . . . coffee? A meal?”
    “Your plans . . . ?” Her fingers flexed against his chest, feeling the hardness of his pectoral muscle