Page 37 of Devoured By You

Because she doesn’t have your number, dickhead.

No, but I had hers.

Kicking off my shoes, I flopped onto the bed. A faint crack ran from the middle of the bathroom door to halfway across the ceiling. I let out a heavy sigh and sent a message to the maintenance team. One fucking thing after another.

I rubbed the back of my neck, squeezing the tight muscles. I pulled up an empty text, adding Jill’s contact details to the recipient box. The curser blinked at me, taunting, daring me to send her a message.

Fuck it.

Me: I’m sorry about before, Tilly.

Jesus Christ. Talk about lame. Is that really the best I can do?

Me: I enjoyed our night.

No better, dickhead.

Me: Until we were interrupted, that is.

A message in reply remained stubbornly absent, which should have been my cue to leave it alone. But I wasn’t a quitter. Jill could tell me herself if she wasn’t interested.

Me: Do you want to come over?

Me: I’d like you to come over.

Me: Strike “over” from that message.

Finally, three dots appeared. I held my breath, cursing when they disappeared, cheering when they reappeared. The reply, when it came, was not at all what I’d expected.

Tilly: I see you’ve added stalking to your resume. Also, sending multiple messages one after another is the most annoying habit. Can you not just send one containing everything you’d like to say?

I grinned.

Me: I’m sorry about before. I enjoyed our night. Until we were interrupted, that is. Do you want to come over? I’d like you to come over. Strike that. I’d just like you to come. On my face, preferably.

Her reply took eons to arrive.

Tilly: A litany of short sentences one after the other makes for difficult reading.

My grin widened. She was truly magnificent.

Me: Once an author…

Tilly: Is there an end to that sentence?

Me: Yeah. Once an author… came on my face.

Tilly: I think you’re trouble, Blaize Isaac Kingcaid.

My stomach turned over. She’d remembered my full name.

Me: To you, I’m Blay. And to me, you’re Tilly. Let’s be those people, if only for a little while.

Tilly: To me, you’re the guy who chose someone else. Twice.

Me: You’re making me work for it? Seriously?

Tilly: You call this work? I haven’t even started yet.