Page 27 of Devoured By You

Marlowe grinned. “We already have.”

“Ugh.” I covered my ears. “I don’t want to know.”

“You’ve got a dirty mind,” Nolen said.

My brother didn’t know the half of it. I wasn’t about to enlighten him, either.

“Can I get you two anything? I’ve got a ton of shit to do.”

More lies. I had one thing to do. Over and over and over again.

Marlowe plastered herself to Nolen’s side. “No, we’re good.”

“See you for breakfast?”

“Sounds good.”

I walked them to their suite, but as they entered, a thought struck me.

“Where’s Aspen? Please tell me she’s not stalking that rock star. If she pisses him off, she’ll piss me off.”

“She hasn’t. Not that I’m aware of, anyway,” Nolen said. “We just left her a few minutes ago. She said she was tired and turning in for the night.”

“Good.” One problem put on the back burner for now.

“Night, bro.” He shut the door, and the sound of giggles erupted from inside. I smiled. They were such a terrific couple who’d walked a hard-fought path to happiness.

As I set off for my suite, Nolen’s comment about Aspen hit me in the solar plexus. With the stress of the launch, the unexpectedness of seeing Jill at the reception, tasting her again, and then all this crap with Scarlett, I’d completely forgotten that Aspen had inveigled her way into my private space and taken the second bedroom.

Ah, fuck.

I broke into a sprint.

Chapter 11

Jill

Well, bugger me.

Talk about embarrassing.

Blay couldn’t have been gone more than ten minutes when I heard the door click open. I breathed a sigh of relief. My shoulders were starting to spasm.

“You’re a dead man, Blay Kingcaid,” I called out, laughter in my voice. Even though he’d tied me up and left me alone, I couldn’t be mad at him. Truth be told, I was turned on, my pussy throbbing and aching for him to finish what he’d started.

“Oh my God.”

My head whipped around, my eyes ballooning at the strange woman standing in the doorway to Blay’s bedroom. You have got to be joking. He had another fucking woman lined up. What did he think was going to happen? A goddamn threesome?

“Who are you?” I demanded, trying my best to sound authoritative despite the fact that I was as helpless as a newborn, tied to a bed, and stark bloody naked. Correction. Almost stark naked. I still wore the kitten heels.

“Who are you?” she countered.

I ignored her question. “Where’s Blay?”

“Blay?” She frowned. “Oh, you mean Blaize. No one calls him Blay.”

Arguing from a position of inferiority wasn’t helpful. “Can you cover me over and untie me, and then we can talk about who calls whom what?”