He rested his forehead against hers, his thumb tracing circles at the small of her back, lightly over the material of her dress. And here he'd always heard the devil wore a blue dress. The writer of that song had been very, very wrong. Because he was fairly certain she'd done something to him tonight even though he wasn't sure what it was or how she'd done it. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.
"More honest with you than anyone else," he said honestly, his gaze dropping to her mouth for a split second.