Page 29 of Devoured By You

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Page 29 of Devoured By You

Miracles happened sometimes. Right?

Aspen made something with the gin. She handed me a glass. I took one sip. Jesus. I’d be hammered after drinking less than half of that. I put it on the coffee table. Aspen sat beside me, cross-legged, her expression eager.

“What are you working on right now?”

Ah, hell. “Um, a follow-up to Pieces of Me.”

“Oh my God! For real? I loved Arton and Kenna. They’re getting a second book?”

Supposedly. “Yeah.”

I couldn’t help but notice that Aspen hadn’t asked me why Blay—Blaize—had tied me to a bed and left me here. Perhaps this wasn’t all that an unusual occurrence. My stomach cramped at the thought.

“That’s incredible. When’s it coming out?”

At this rate, never. “That’s up to the publisher. I just write the words.” Sounded so simple. If only.

“You’ll have to message me when you know.” She raised her hips and fished a card out of the back pocket of her trousers. “Here are my contact details.”

I slipped the card into my handbag. “I’ll make sure I—”

The door to the suite opened, and Blay entered. He took one look at the scene before him and blushed hot enough to start a fire.

“Ah, fuck.”

Indeed.

Before I could say a word, Aspen sprung off the couch, marched over to Blay, and punched him in the arm. She wasn’t gentle about it, either.

“Blaize Isaac Kingcaid, would you like to explain to me what I found when I returned to this suite ten minutes ago?”

Isaac. He didn’t look like an Isaac. Then again, he didn’t look like a Blaize, either. To me, he’d always be Blay.

“Firstly, ow.” He rubbed his arm. “And secondly, no. It’s none of your business.” He looked over at me with a grimace that appeared to be an attempt at an apology.

“None of my business?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Do you know who that woman is?”

“Are you high? Of course I know who she is. What—?”

“Don’t interrupt me. I hadn’t finished talking. That woman…” She pointed at me as if there might be a doubt about whom she was referring to. “That woman is J. T. Rowe, the greatest romance novelist in the world.”

A nice compliment, but far from true. Good to hear all the same, though. Especially at the moment, given my flagging confidence over the latest shite I’d penned.

“And you leave her naked and tied to your bed?”

I winced at the baldness of her statement. It’d been fun… until she’d walked in. “It’s—”

“You’re a disgrace to this family. Does Nolen know about this?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because I go around sharing my sex life with my nearest and dearest all the time.”

“Don’t come at me with sarcasm.”

I raised my hand as if I were in class and trying to get the teacher’s attention. “Excuse m—”

“I’ll come at you with more than sarcasm if you don’t take your nose out of my business.”

“Could I just—?”




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