Page 34 of Devoured By You

“How can I fix this?” I asked when Scarlett paused for breath.

“I’ll tell you how you can fix it. You can come with me right now and demand that your chef make me something edible.” Her plump red lips stretched into a villainous smile, and she ran a crimson nail down my chest. “Before I tell my followers what a shit show this cruise is turning out to be.”

Fucking hell.

I caught Jill’s eye, an apology in mine. She touched my shoulder and leaned up on tiptoes to whisper in my ear. “Focus on your business. Like you said, it has to go well. I’ll see you around, maybe.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving me with a ranting actress, blue balls, and a niggling feeling that fate had stepped in to save me from myself.

Chapter 13

Jill

A lack of orgasms makes me extra salty.

Scarlett Rose was off my Christmas card list. I’d been a fan of hers, until I’d witnessed what no fan ever should. Peeking behind the curtain was a mistake, especially when it revealed a wailing banshee of a woman complaining about first-world problems that, if I had to guess, were vastly over-egged.

I couldn’t see the caliber of chefs on this ship serving up overcooked steak and soggy asparagus. She was clearly one of those impossible-to-please women who lived to complain about pretty much everything.

She’d not only ruined my buzz, as well as the several orgasms that would have come my way if Blay and I had finished what we’d started. But she’d touched him, too. If I saw her prancing around the ship, I’d stick out a leg and laugh as she belly-flopped into the pool.

Ahh, dreams. If only.

With my plans for multiple orgasms thwarted, I made my way back to my suite. The sound of music greeted me before I’d even opened the door. Inside, a party was in full swing. Addison was dancing on the bed with some guy, her boobs jiggling, his eyes out on stalks. Kelsey was making drinks and chatting to another two guys, and Raya was lounging on the couch outside on the balcony with four other men.

“Hey!” Addison blew me several kisses. “What happened to Mr. Billionaire?”

“He had to work.” I pretended it didn’t bother me.

It bothered me.

Not the work, per se—I knew who he was and the importance of his role—but the reason he’d been pulled away. A fucking stupid reason from a childish actress who needed a slap.

Would you look at that? Seemed being deprived of orgasms made me extra salty. And violent. Who knew?

What really bothered me was the possessive way she’d touched him.

“Boring,” Addison sing-songed. “Grab a drink. Kelsey’s making cosmos.”

On cue, Kelsey thrust a martini glass at me, brimful of sweet cranberry juice and, if I knew Kelsey, included several shots of Belvedere. Addison had progressed to gyrating against her hapless captive, not that he seemed to mind one bit.

“What happened?” Kelsey asked me before taking a huge gulp of her cocktail.

“Scarlett Rose. Who are all these people?”

“Scarlett Rose? As in the actress?”

“One and the same.”

She whistled. “Wow, is she as pretty in real life?”

“Yeah, gorgeous.” I jerked my chin. “I didn’t know you’d planned a party.”

“It’s not a party. It’s a gathering.” She nudged me. “And if Mr. Billionaire is off sucking up to the Hollywood elite, maybe you should bag yourself a backup.”

She’d misunderstood what had happened, but that didn’t stop the sharp edges of anxiety from digging into the lining of my stomach. What if, instead of sucking up to Scarlett, she was sucking up to him? Or rather, sucking him. I mean, he had form, right? He’d freely admitted he wasn’t into relationships. And men who didn’t do relationships didn’t do monogamy, either. Just because he’d been about to take me to bed did not mean he wouldn’t find himself tempted by Scarlett. She might be a complete bitch, but she was a beautiful, sultry, temptress bitch. What heterosexual man wouldn’t have his head turned by a beauty such as her?

I’m pissing myself off. I wasn’t the jealous kind. Or I thought I wasn’t, anyway I glanced into the mirror behind the minibar. Phew. No green tinge to my skin. That was something, at least. Now all I needed was the pressure on my chest to bugger off.