Devoured: A Novel by Emily Snow

Author:Emily Snow [SNOW, EMILY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Erotica, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Women, General
ISBN: 9781476744087
Google: EDVXIxFX-ykC
Amazon: 1476744084
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 2013-02-21T05:00:00+00:00

The entire mood of the conversation with Lucas seems to shift after I realize he wants me at this very moment. “Sienna?” he whispers.

My eyes close and my back arches. “Yes . . . sir.”

“You have a license, right?”

“Why do you—”

“One word,” he says. “It’s a single word answer.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now you won’t have to spend the rest of your day at the DMV. They’re a pain in the ass.”

“Oh,” I say, opening my eyes. I push my hair back from my face with damp hands. I know there’s more that he wants to say to me. With my body still humming from the experience with the blindfold, now would probably be the best time for him to get it off his chest.

Instead, a few seconds later, Lucas sends me away.

I’ve done a lot of work—all through high school and college and my job with Tomas—and this is the first time my boss has actually uttered the words “You’re dismissed.”

“Dismissed?”

“Do I need to have you pull the blindfold back over your eyes? Leave.”

I’m shaken and suddenly a little lightheaded at the way his tone has hardened. Gone is the almost teasing voice he’d taken on while he was admonishing me over my lack of listening skills and drilling his schedule into my head. Now, he just sounds . . . like I’m the biggest nuisance he’s ever met.

“No sir, no blindfold,” I say, a sarcastic edge creeping its way into my voice as I stand up stiffly, and walk past him toward the French doors. When he shuffles his feet, clears his throat just slightly, I know he’s watching me leave.

He stops me before I step over the threshold, and into the sitting room outside the office. “Kylie’s left a list of her own for you in the smaller office on the bottom floor.”

I nod this time because there’s a massive lump in my throat and I don’t think I could possibly call him sir again without my voice breaking apart and giving away my disappointment. Gripping the Best Buy bag, I clench my teeth and do as he’s asked. I don’t even know why I’m upset to begin with.

Grabbing my laptop from my bedroom, I take it along with the new phone and tablet Lucas has given me. I find the stairs that lead to the lower section of the house in the kitchen and head down there. It’s cooler in this part of the house, like purposely colder, and my nipples harden under my thin cardigan.

This whole floor was probably a basement at some point, but the contractor who did the conversion managed to make it look as elegant as the rest of the house. When I pass by a piano room, my letdown from the Lucas debacle momentarily disappears and I creep inside.

I was never the pianist my mom was—she had wanted to perform before she met and married my dad—but I had taken years of lessons. One of my few incredible memories of her was sitting at the Steinway my grandfather had bought for her when she was a kid.

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