Devour Me
Her Best Friend’s Father #1
by Ayden K. Morgen
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Don’t get caught.
Never fall in love.
And steer clear of his daughter’s friends.
The rules were easy enough for Roman Gregory…until Mila Lawson set
out to break every single one of them.
When the twenty-two
year old lands on the ATF agent’s doorstep after a nasty breakup, he
knows all too well that she’s off-limits. At thirty-eight,
he’s almost twice her age, she’s hurting, and the blonde
bombshell is his daughter’s best friend.
Mila knows all
about wanting what she can’t have. For four years, she’s lusted
after Talia McPherson’s scary hot, terminally single father from
afar. After walking away from her cheating ex and what she thought
was her happily-ever-after, the last thing on her mind is
jumping into a new relationship.
Until she find herself living with Roman in Santa Cruz…
Now all she can think about is making all those dirty fantasies come to
life. With nothing left to lose, she makes him an offer he
can’t refuse: Two weeks of no-holds-barred sex. No strings. No
commitments. No messy emotions.
Roman has no business agreeing
to her insane proposition. He can’t have her. He shouldn’t even want
her. But he’s going to take her anyway… and he has no intentions of
stopping until she’s his completely.
If there’s one thing Roman knows for a fact, it’s that he doesn’t lose.
Ever.
Devour Me is the first of three steamy novellas featuring Mila and Roman.
“So I’m sorry about last night,” I say, holding his gaze, refusing to fidget under the weight of it. My hand trembles, so I quickly set my coffee cup on the counter and cross my arms. “I never drink that much. I, um, I’m sorry I passed out and you had to take care of me.”
He frowns at me, something shifting through his gaze so quickly, I can’t make it out. He looks…I’m not sure. Like I’ve thrown him off-balance again, like he suddenly isn’t sure what to expect from me. That little flash of uncertainty gives me the courage I need to finish what I have to say.
“I should probably also apologize for going into your room yesterday. It wasn’t fair of me to invade your privacy like that. You had your door closed for a reason, and I should have respected that.”
He stares at me, but doesn’t say anything. He does that a lot, just watches me. Ever since I first met him, he’s watched me like he can’t look away. He looks at me like he knows me inside and out, and still hasn’t decided what to do about me. It’s unnerving and hot at the same damn time, and I have no clue what it means.
“You said you should apologize,” he finally says.
“Hmm?”
“You said you should apologize.” He tips his coffee cup up to his lips and takes a sip, watching me over the rim. Those blue eyes rove across my face, not missing anything. “You didn’t say you are sorry.”
“Oh.” I wander toward the fridge, grimacing when my foot throbs.
“Is your foot still bothering you?”
“It’s okay,” I say, giving him a partial truth. It’s not too bad, but it honestly feels worse this morning than it did yesterday. I think it may be getting infected. That’s probably my fault for walking around barefoot all the time, but I like the feel of the floor beneath my feet. I love buying shoes, but I’m not big on actually wearing them.
I squeak when I’m suddenly lifted off my feet. My hands go to Roman’s shoulders, clutching as he swings me up into his arms like I don’t weigh anything. He doesn’t seem to notice my weight at all, actually. It’s honestly kind of hot. Damien was tall and lanky and he never picked me up. I’m only a size thirteen, but I always felt a little out of place next to him. Or maybe he made me feel out of place beside him. I’m not sure, but Roman doesn’t make me feel that way.
He turns and plops me down on the island. The marble is cold beneath me, my thin shorts not offering much protection. The chill fades quickly when he runs his hand down my bare leg, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. A different kind of shiver rolls through me, and then he’s propping my foot up to examine it, a furrow between his brows. I fight the urge to reach out and smooth that little wrinkle with my fingers.
“You need to keep this bandaged. It’s infected.” His fingertip runs across my instep and then he turns away.
He’s back in seconds, the first aid kit in his hands. He pops it open and rummages through, setting aside various items before he finds what he’s after. I open my mouth to tell him that I’m fine, but he glares at me before I can form the first syllable, so I shut up and sit patiently.
He cleans the cut with gentle hands, swabs ointment onto it, and then wraps a bandage around my foot.
“Thanks,” I whisper when he’s finished.
I expect him to let me go, but he doesn’t. He looks up at me, his big hand still wrapped around my ankle. He’s so close I can see little flecks of gold in his eyes, smell the coffee and minty toothpaste on his breath. I swallow hard at the heat in his gaze.
“You said you should apologize,” he repeats his earlier comment now that he’s done doctoring me up. “Are you sorry?”
“No,” I whisper, unable to lie to him. Maybe I should be sorry for invading his privacy or throwing myself at him, but honestly, I think I’d do the same thing all over again. I want him, and I know he wants me too. Taking big risks and putting myself out there has never really been my thing, but I want to take one this time.
He slides his hand up my calf.
“Are you sorry?” I ask, my gaze locked on the play of emotions across his face. They swirl through his eyes so quickly I’m not sure where his head is at…what he’s thinking…what he wants.
“No.” His hand lands against my inner thigh, making me jump. “Easy, baby,” he murmurs, placing himself between my spread legs.
“You apologized yesterday,” I remind him, trying to ignore the way my stomach flips at the word baby. I love it when he calls me that.
“I lied.” His mouth lands against my ear, his breath hot and heavy. “I’m not sorry for a fucking thing, Mila.” His teeth clamp down around my earlobe. The sting sends a bolt straight to my clit. “You offered me two weeks,” he says against my skin. “Did you mean it?”
“Y-yes.”
He nips at my earlobe again like he’s rewarding me for answering him. His hands skim across my thighs and then around to my hips. He grips me hard, holding me in place.
“I hope you’re ready for me, sweetheart,” he whispers. “It’s too late to back out now.”
Ayden is the Amazon Bestselling author of the Ragnarök Prophesies series.
She lives in the heart of Arkansas with her childhood
sweetheart/husband of fifteen years, and their furry minions. When
not writing, she spends her time hiking, reading, volunteering,
causing mischief, and building a Spork army.
Ayden graduated summa cum laude with her Bachelor of Science degree
in Criminal Justice and Forensic Psychology in 2009 before going on
to complete her graduate degree in CJ and Law. She currently puts her
education to use in the CJ and Social Services field.
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