Author's Note: I do not own Young and the Restless characters of Devon Hamilton Winters, Hilary Curtis/Ann Turner, or any other Genoa City character in this piece. Lord knows if I did, they would be in better hands- hands that love and adore their story potential.

Prologue: Surveillance

One scorching New Year's Eve kiss led to this moment, led to this inevitable Valentine's Day.

At first, she thought the kiss's origin came from too much sparkling champagne. That night, alcohol turned her wicked, almost wanton in a naive courtesan way. Repressed confidence seductively slipped underneath form fitting satin, sifted though short sleeved hot pink dress that maxed out her credit card.

She hadn't really wanted to stay in her hotel room watching Time Square glitter ball drop on upgraded suite's sleek flat screen. She wanted to see him, see him see her in the dress.

"Think about who you want to be kissing at midnight," Jack had commanded.

As though Eve's very serpent slithered and whispered into tipsy ear, on a holiday surely named after her, Hilary caught Devon outside. They said nothing. No further words could be exchanged. Not when naked, hungry eyes conveyed all, laid full house on the card table. No longer pent up and frustrated, Hilary and Devon kissed and kissed and kissed right outside where anyone could have seen them. Anyone.

Two dissolved faces discovering and searching, turning opposite diagonals, tasted elixir, a magical elixir too addictive to be classified as ordinary. That first kiss evoked magic far beyond any man's lips ever devoured. This was her destiny. Licentious ambrosia melded their turbulent tongues together. Exhaustion couldn't form when desperate friction told them not to part. Never part. His busy hands traced her back, her nape, her updo. She stayed massaging his bald head, pleased to have coveted wish. It was then she realized alcohol alone wasn't the culprit. She wanted this, wanted him.

Like some manic Cinderella spell, lips broke apart. Pledge made in darkness. They vowed to keep their emotions clandestine, especially away from Lily, who still tossed vicious barbs left and right at Hilary and from Neil, whose steadfast forgiveness seemed suspect.

"He was the first one to forgive you," Devon had said. His fingers alternated tasks- stroking her blush coated cheeks and combing curtained mass of soft black hair.

"I don't know, Devon. He gives off vibes," Hilary admitted. "Please don't take this the wrong way, I know you love your father, but I think his form of forgiveness may be a facade."

He thought it strange, but trusted her intuition. He would do anything to stay more than friends. Yes, a camaraderie grew, but ardent devotion blossomed fiercely, an unquiet resistance that wasn't merely lust derived.

Hilary yearned to get past former vengeful motives, start a fresh life without Ann Turner's bloodthirsty quest catching up and hovering above happiness. Determined Devon replenished her esteem with compliments galore. Katherine's inheritance could offer expensive gifts and baubles, but he knew she needed to hear affectionate words, feel his comforting prose embrace around old wounds yet revealed.

So from that first tantalizing New Year's kiss, cupid struck twosome conducted boyfriend and girlfriend activities in the outskirts of Genoa City: candlelight dinner dates, tennis matches, ice skating, movies, holding hands, just being a normal couple. Make out sessions hotter than experimental teenagers figuring out how lips and tongues moved. Hilary and Devon's cataclysmic descent into kissing territory wasn't fearful. Not awkward. Their joined mouths shadowed future with passionate clarity and stunning tenderness.

Something rare and poignant brewed between them, electrocuting surface, frothing with tiny invisible magic escaped into the air, pulsing and building, building up to her suite.

She stood, barefoot, holding red roses matching full matte lips. Underneath her black satin robe, Devon's lacy red gift awaited.

Her heart pounded a fervent song for him. He knew the tune. Undeniable feelings flew into her expressive eyes and captured him, sustained him. She must sense his own inner beating, desiring to join, become one. For months, sweet kisses aroused and tested bounds of patience. He knew from bones to skin that she was worth waiting for.

"Are you sure?" She asked, hesitant. Hesitant of him changing his mind, of finally figuring out she wasn't worth being a secret. He could have any woman in the world, could afford any woman.

Still he came to her.

He came to her dressed in a gorgeous silk cranberry shirt with matching cranberry tie, all heather grey suit, well tailored. God, he was so fine. Too fine for her.

"Usually the man asks that," he said.

They laughed, breaking tension tide.

"I don't want to come between you and your family, Devon." She kept seriousness alive, fighting her whetting appetite. "If you change your mind, I understand and support your decision."

"Hilary, it is what's inside of me that matters. When I'm not around you, I'm lost. I'm disjointed. You fill my thoughts, my dreams. All I do is think about being with you. I want to eat up every second surrounded in you. Can you seriously say you want this to end?"

He came closer, letting invisible gravitational pull lure him. She smelled better than high priced flowers. He needed to drown in her. Forever.

Doe eyes widened, watching vital undercurrents float inside velvet orbs. His hand reached over, caressed her robe sleeve. Her eyelids surrendered, hiding desires she knew he saw.

"No," she responded, sounding breathless as though he had just kissed her.

She let him inside and shut the door. He turned the lock.

"I love you," he confessed. It had been inside him many weeks, torturing his everyday. Inner feathers tickled vocal cords, teasing words to oblivion. He breathed, feeling so alive for the first time, repeating for emphasis, for his piece of mind, for hers. "I'm in love with you, Hilary Curtis. Utterly and completely in love."

She took his larger brown hands in hers and smiled. No flushed and smiled together.

"Devon, I love you. I think I have always been in love with you, but I let anger and fear get in the way."

"Well, nothing is standing in the way. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever."

He cupped her face and she touched the back of his head.

Their lips met in cordial greeting. Gentle affection fast transformed into amatory gratification, surpassing self-control, surpassing realest reality. They were in a cortex of their own making. And it felt indescribable, way too raw to be elicit seduction.

"God, I want you," Hilary gasped.

He stroked her face, leaning his forehead against hers, overcome with great emotion.

Within seconds, he lifted and carried her towards the bed.

Surrounded by candles and silk, slowly removed clothes revealed all.

Devon took in his Valentine's Day gift, struck by her glorious lithe form. Crimson red lace left little to his starved imagination. He found himself alternating between licking, laving, and nibbling dewy mahogany skin, its beautiful, unique flavor sating his inner agony. His big, large hands cupped and caressed. His firm, pliant mouth and ravenous tongue taking place, setting her on fire.

Hilary was losing it, losing battle with sanity. He had her. Really had her in a way no one else could compare.

"Don't close your eyes," he demanded, honeyed seduction coating his voice, making her body shiver with requited need. "I want to see your beautiful face looking at me."

She looked at him then, her hooded gaze looking drugged, hazed. Sight that both stunned and awed, weakening languid senses. With him perched on her flat stomach, his godlike hands in the midst of rubbing up her smooth legs and parted thighs, he was easily the most handsome man on earth. He stole remainder of her breath away.

She touched his iron chest, brushed at impressive biceps, teased all his fetching artisan tattoos, savoring lion last. For he had all the capabilities of the wild African beast- strong, graceful, virile. Yet gentle kisses and wet bites showed her his soft, tender side. She was seeing it, feeling it.

Soon, they found each other, connecting hotly, eager for pleasurable gratification. Their hands combined together above her spread out dampened curls, moist inserted fingers and mimicking their lower bodies. His drooping eyes seduced her, enveloped her as he moved and surged further. She met him thrust for rapturous thrust, calling out his name, begging him never to stop.

Bodies rolled and curled. She clawed his back, raking excited nails aligning his spine. He marked her neck, showering suckled kisses and carnal nibbles.

They reached stimulating, scorching hot ecstasy, an intensely erotic bliss that should have been their secret alone.

Yet from inside the dark closet, yards away, someone watched with knotted brows and a twisted scowl, balling enraged fists.