That was as far as he got, because in that exact instant the world stopped.
It wasn’t gradual. Not subtle. It was a full, visceralhalt—like my brain short-circuited and my body forgot its basic functions.
Near the back of the room was a staircase—elegant, spotlighted, and unfortunately positioned directly in my line of sight. And standing at the top of it, descending slowly—deliberately so—eyes locked on mine…
Was Ethan.
But notjustEthan.
Ethan dressed in the most exquisitely sinful way I had ever seen him in my life.
His summer-warm skin gleamed—actually gleamed—candlelight dragging gold across it with every step. And there was so much of it on display. An alarming, illegal amount. Because the only thing he was wearing was the smallest, most perfectly arranged Greek robe.
Golden straps wrapped up his calves in tight, crisscrossing lines, drawing my gaze up the firm cut of his legs. The miniature skirt hit high on his thighs—far too high—and a single white sash crossed over his otherwise bare chest, leaving every line ofmuscle exposed. His curls were a chaotic, beautiful mess around his face as he moved, each step unhurried, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
And then—because apparently my sanity wasn’t fragile enough—he had wings. A small, fluffy white pair of angel wings perched on his back, soft and ridiculous and devastating, because the rest of him looked like sin carved into flesh.
This wasn’t a costume. It was a provocation.
And I was speechless.
“Hey, are you alive?” Henry’s voice came from somewhere to my right.
Still no words. No breath. Just Ethan continuing his slow descent. Heads turned as he passed—double takes, outright stares—and that small, tantalizing smirk on his mouth.
A hand waved in front of my face. “Ash?”
“Oh my fucking god,” I whispered. My body reacted before my brain caught up, heat unfurling low, the kind that made thinking nearly impossible.
“What—” Henry shifted beside me, following my line of sight. “Oh boy.”
Ethan reached the first floor and started toward us—toward me—while the crowd seemed to part for him like he was some goddamn deity stepping down from Olympus.
“Ash.” Henry’s hand landed on my shoulder, firm. “Ash, pull it together.”
“What?” It didn’t even sound like my voice.
“He’s getting closer. Pull it together,” Henry hissed, shaking me like he could physically shove sense back into me. “Pull it together. Pull it together.”
Whatever he was trying to aim for, it wasn’t working.
“Okay—fine. Then at least close your mouth?”
My jaw clicked shut on command just as Ethan stopped in front of us, chin tipped up to hold my gaze.
“Hi, birthday boy,” he said, voice even raspier than usual.
A sound came out of me—something caught between a hum and a groan and absolutelynota dignified greeting. I cleared my throat like that might erase it.
Ethan’s perfectly plush lips curved. “Save me a dance?”
My throat refused to function, so I lifted my glass and gave what I hoped passed for a nod.
He grinned—slow and intentional—and that’s when I noticed the golden leaves woven into his curls.
JesusfuckingChrist.
“Gotta make the rounds,” he murmured, then winked. Naturally. He turned, walking away with the kind of confidence that guaranteed I’d be watching. His entire back was bare, the tiny skirt downright obscene, pulling my gaze down the line of his spine to the flex of the back of his thighs.
