The fire burned low. Shadows danced across their faces.
"I'm sorry for wearing the dress…" Evelyn whispered.
Lucifer didn't respond. He moved closer, his nose brushing the side of her neck.
"Are you really Calista?" he murmured against her skin, voice barely audible.
Her breath hitched. "What?"
But he didn't repeat it. Instead, he kissed her.
Slow. Searching. Like he was trying to remember something long buried.
She didn't pull away. Her lips answered his, soft at first, then growing hungry—like she'd been starving for this moment.
His hands tangled in her hair. He leaned forward until she was under him—but before he could deepen it, she bit her bottom lip, eyes burning into his.
And kissed him again—harder.
This time, she climbed over him.
Lucifer froze.
His eyes widened. "What on—"
But she kissed down his jaw, his throat, her fingers trailing the buttons of his shirt like a map she was dying to read.
He let her.
Because in that moment, he didn't see Evelyn.
