Page 36 of Devoured By You

“Aw, come on, honey. Just one kiss.” He made a move. I skipped out of his way, picked up a glass containing a vile green liquid someone must have thought better of, and tossed it in his face. His expression turned thunderous.

“Why, you fucking—”

The music halted. Addison inserted herself in between me and the guy with green liquid dripping off his chin.

“You heard her. Out. In fact, all of you, out. Party’s over.” She stepped up close to him and jabbed him in the chest. “You’d better hope I don’t see you around this ship, buddy, or you’ll find yourself swimming back to Miami.”

I loved how Addison had stepped in, even though she’d known I could easily handle this guy by myself. These girls were my family. My ride-or-dies. We stood beside each other through thick and thin.

Unlike my birth family…

“Yeah, and she knows the CEO, so you might find yourself off-loaded at the first stop,” Kelsey interjected.

I elbowed her. The last thing I wanted to do was share this debacle with Blay, who still hadn’t called me.

“Frigid bitch,” Greg muttered as he walked down the hallway.

“At least I’m not a boring twat,” I shouted after him.

The rest of the guys filed out, a couple murmuring apologies for their friend. As the guy Addison had been snogging left, he moved in to kiss her. She stepped back. “Blame your buddy,” she said. He shrugged and left. Addison slammed the door behind him and locked it.

“Well.” I grinned. “Who said we can’t throw a great party?”

Chapter 14

Blaize

Sexting is fun.

By the time I’d placated Scarlett and extricated myself from her clutches, thirty minutes had passed. Thirty minutes I could have spent in bed with Jill. My feelings about the beautiful author swung like a pendulum from “Not a good idea to entangle myself in a relationship, however brief” to “Fuck, I want her, and I’d damn well have her, too.”

The problem was that I didn’t know where she’d gone when she’d left me behind with Scarlett. Nor did I have her cell phone number. Lucky for me, I had loose morals and the right contacts. In seconds, my team had furnished me with her suite number and her phone number.

After removing my phone from the inside pocket of my jacket, I changed my mind. This called for a personal visit.

I made my way down the stairs to her deck, but as I approached her suite, music seeped through the door. It sounded like a party in full swing. I lifted my hand to knock on the door, but something stopped me. What was it she’d whispered in my ear? See you around. Not Call me, or I’ll be waiting, or anything resembling an invitation to turn up at her suite, unannounced, and drag her away from her friends. Again.

No. I’d leave her to it. Better to keep things casual. By coming here, I was signaling a greater interest than intended. I had more than enough on my plate without embroiling myself in what would probably turn out to be an unholy mess.

I didn’t do seconds.

The rule had kept me out of trouble more times than I could count, and given the forced proximity I found myself in, it was even more important to hold fast to that decree.

I’d had her. It was wonderful. And it was over.

As I made my way back to my suite, an ache spread throughout my chest. Probably indigestion from having to play nice with Scarlett when what I’d much rather have done was pitch her overboard.

And the worst of it? This was day fucking one. If this carried on, by day fourteen, they’d have to put me in a padded cell.

I entered my suite to Aspen pacing, phone jammed to her ear, barking orders rapidly into the speaker. She barely acknowledged me, too busy giving whoever was on the other end of the phone an earful. Poor bastard. Most of the time, Aspen was sweet and fun and easygoing, but piss her off or cross her and she’d rip out your throat. As the only daughter in an extended family of eight sons, she was the biggest ballbuster of us all.

She knew it, too.

I disappeared into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. Pulling off my tie, I shrugged out of my jacket and unfastened the top button on my shirt. The digits on the clock beside my bed read 10:15—the middle of the day for me. I might as well work. It wasn’t like there was anything else to do.

Or anyone else to do.

Perhaps I should have knocked on Jill’s door. Then again, if she’d wanted me to join the party, she could have texted. And she hadn’t.

---