Page 31 of Devoured By You

“Gives you something to aspire to.”

A chuckle vibrated through his chest. “What have I agreed to?”

“Dinner with my friends. And I must warn you, they’re a rabid bunch.”

His smile lit me up from the inside. “At least I’ll have you to protect me.”

Chapter 12

Blaize

Girl’s got far too many brains

for an ass like that.

Several people stopped me as I walked to dinner with my arm possessively around Jill’s waist. I shared a few words with each one before politely excusing myself under the guise of disliking unpunctuality. The truth was, I only had eyes for Jill, and every person we met took my attention away from her.

In other words, I was dead to rights on the pussy-whipped stakes.

It wouldn’t last. My brief obsessions never did, although my interest usually waned before the sun kissed the horizon the next morning. I put it down to the fact that Scarlett’s demands had interrupted us. After dinner, I’d persuade her to return to my suite. A night buried inside Jill would slay my thirst once and for all. The ship was big enough to avoid her if things got a little awkward. My instincts told me that Jillian Rowe wasn’t the clingy type. She had far too much pride to hold on to a liaison that had run its course.

I put my hand on the small of her back and eased her into the restaurant. The greeter stood up straighter as we approached the podium, but before she could say a word, a squeal of excitement almost punctured my eardrums. A woman raced over to us and nearly smothered Jill in her ample chest, then released her and gave me a thorough appraisal.

“I gotta hand it to you, Jill. You sure know how to land the hot ones. You don’t happen to have a brother, do you, Mr. Kingcaid?”

“Addison,” Jill hissed. “Behave.”

“Please call me Blaize.” Jill gave me a quizzical look, which I noted to ask her about later. “As a matter of fact, I have two brothers, and one is on the cruise. Unfortunately, he’s here with his wife. My other brother lives in France and is also spoken for.”

Addison pouted. “Ugh. The good ones are always taken.”

“Who said they’re good?” I arched a brow, squeezing Jill’s hip before sliding my hand to her firm ass. Seriously, the girl had far too many brains for an ass like that.

“Well played.” Addison dipped her chin. “Bad ones are much more fun.”

Spinning around, she made her way over to a table where two other women were seated, their sharp gazes assessing me.

“Blaize Kingcaid.” I stuck out my hand, shaking both of theirs. “Did I pass?”

One of the women, a petite, pretty blonde, hinted at a smile. “Early days. I’m Kelsey, and this is Raya.” She gestured to a dark-haired woman with navy-blue eyes and a friendly smile.

“They’re very protective,” Jill whispered in my ear.

“I can tell. Should I be concerned?”

“That depends.”

I didn’t ask “On what?” I didn’t need to. It was obvious: on whether or not I treated Jill right. Out of nowhere, a vortex of unease settled in my stomach. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. If I woke up tomorrow with my usual urge to put as much distance between my conquest and me, I’d make life more difficult than it needed to be. Avoiding one woman was doable. Avoiding four, even on a ship this size, wouldn’t be easy, especially if they were out for blood.

“Come, sit.” Addison patted the seat beside her. “Prepare yourself for a grilling.”

I slid onto the circular leather bench. Jill followed, hemming me in. Too late to escape now. But as her warm thigh brushed mine, and the smell of her newly applied perfume filled my nostrils, I realized that escape was the last thing on my mind.

As the champagne flowed, her friends relaxed, and by the time the servers brought our entrées, they’d forgotten all about grilling me on my suitability for their friend. Instead, they’d switched their attention to grilling me about Scarlett Rose after Jill had let it slip that she was on board. The public’s fervent interest in that woman astounded me. Then again, she had the best PR money could buy, and they earned every cent.

Unlike what I’d shared with Jill, I kept my opinion to myself and remained suitably vague. The arrival of food helped my cause in moving the conversation away from the A-list actress and on to safer subjects. Jill pressed closer to me with each course and as the last of the dishes were cleared away, she was practically sitting in my lap.

“You’re making me hard,” I murmured to her, low enough that Addison wouldn’t overhear.

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