Nightfall (Devil's Night, #4)

by Penelope Douglas

Will was naked in plain sight today. I breathed hard, but I didn’t move, remembering the last time I saw so much of him. He had been fit, his body unmarked back then, but before I could stop myself, I peered around the corner again, taking in the sight of him now, years later. He’d changed on the outside, too. I let eyes fell down his body, the soap spilling down his skin and little bubbles dotting his stomach and arms. I gazed, heat rising up my neck as he tipped his head back, smoothing hot water over his hair, steam billowing around his golden, wet skin. Tattoos covered both arms, drifting onto his chest and back, and they lined his collarbone and hands, but I couldn’t see them well enough to decipher everything. I made out his basketball number on the back of his right hand, his Devil’s Night mask on his left arm against the backdrop of Thunder Bay, the cemetery, the Ferris wheel, and St. Killian’s easily visible. His other shoulder and arm featured a cascading vine of leaves surrounding a skull, words written on the forehead I couldn’t make out, and the rest of his body was covered in big and small pictures as well as words, some even draped around his collarbone like a necklace. I wanted to see everything. I wanted to touch him.