My cheeks flame, and I close the book at once. “Don’t judge me.”
“To yourcats?”
“Why is that a problem?”
“It’s not a problem. Just a bit…” He grins that maddening grin. “…quirky.”
“Grumpy and Sunshineloveromance novels. Why do you think I named them Grumpy and Sunshine?”
“Because one’s an arsehole and the other one’s the furry equivalent of a clown on speed?” He comes around to the front and lifts my legs, taking a seat next to me and placing my feet in his lap.
So now I’m paralyzed with fear, lest my fuzzy-socked foot accidentally twitch and rub his—
“Aww,” he purrs, and it takes me a second to realize he’s talking to the cats, who’ve abandoned me for their new bestie. Rubbing Sunshine’s ears, he says, “Did you hear me talking about you, baby? I meant aniceclown on speed. Not a scary one.”
Even Grumpy is nudging Devlin’s hand, sniffing around for some love. The two cats can’t get enough, and now we’re all just piled on the too-small couch together like a too-big dysfunctional family, and when Devlin leans down and kisses Grumpy’s head, my heart lurches.
That… can’t be good. Hopefully it’s just a heart attack or something. Because Ican’tbe crushing on this man. Devil. That’s just not… possible.
“Carry on, mushroom.” Devlin taps the book still clutched in my hands. “Don’t leave poor Lennox hanging.”
I glare. A thing I’ve really perfected since the Devil entered my life. And he gives me the sexy eyebrow arch. A thingheprobably perfected when humans first crawled out of the primordial muck.
“If you’re going to mock my hobbies,” I snap, “then you can forget the whole thing and go back downstairs. Alone. Without meorthe catsormy grilled cheese.”
“No cats or grilled cheese? Please don’t banish me so, mistress.” He presses a hand to his heart, his eyes glittering like amber in the candlelight. “I’ll behave. I want to hear the rest of the story. Truly.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.” He stops petting the cats and squeezes my foot, thumb pressing against the arch, a touch that shouldn’t feel so damned erotic but does. “Please, continue.”
Sparing him one last glare, and also trying not to let the tingling warmth of the impromptu foot massage travel any farther north, I open the book and start again.
“Now that she was back in his arms, Lennox wouldnotlet Savannah slip away—not even for a moment. Laying her down in the hayloft, he climbed atop her quivering form and unfastened the buttons of her nightdress, recalling their first time so many years ago. He was a gentler man then, the war stripping him of almost all tenderness. Now, he loved her the only way he knew how, furiously and without restraint—”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Devlin shakes his head. “Loved herfuriously? How does that even work?”
“Um. Figure it out?”
“Is he angry about the loving of this woman?”
“It’s a euphemism, Devlin.”
“In ahayloftbesides?Thisis where he chooses to bed his so-called soulmate? In a place where farm animals fornicate and def—”
“…furiouslyand without restraint,” I continue, giving him a swift kick in the thigh. “A wild storm breaking upon the shores of her body, the desperate tide of him rising higher and higher, until—”
“Stop. Right. There.” Devlin shoves a hand through his hair and sighs, as if the whole thing is giving him a headache. “I think what the author istryingto say is Lennox and Savannah fucked each other’s brains out in the barn. Yes?”
“Yes, only the writer chose to be slightly more eloquent about it, unlike you.”
“Thewriter—and I use the term loosely—is mired in purple prose and badly in need of an editor. Or a match and some gasoline. Also, a career counselor—never too late to turn over a new leaf, I always say.”
“Ambrosia Divine is a New York Times bestselling author!” I slam the book closed. “I suppose you think you could do better?”
“Oh, I could absolutely do better thanAmbrosia Divine. That’s not even her real name, obviously.”
“Is that so,Devlin Pierce? I don’t seeyourfake name on any book covers. Obnoxious hashtags, sure, you’ve got that market cornered. But literature? Please.”
