Cover by: @authornataliaava
🔞🔞WARNING {18+}🔞🔞
Sequel to: In Need of a Muse.
⚠Book Two CAN'T be read as a standalone.
Timay finds herself back where she started, distracting herself with meaningless sex, the only difference this time, she's runn...
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I run my hand along her smooth skin that is exposed in the slit of her dress. I inch my hand closer to her inner thigh with a smirk twisting my lips as hers, part. I lean closer until I feel her pulse racing beneath my lips, allowing them to linger against her heated skin.
She sucks in a breath, hand gripping mine tracing patterns against her thigh that's beginning to tremble.
I'm not doing this to be funny and I'm not doing this cause I have zero self-control which I don't when it comes to her, I mean you'd know if you got a taste of her. She's fucking addictive.
I'm doing this shit cause one, it's exhilarating and two, she's the only part of this event I find fascinating.
I've always hated attending these events but not this time.
In a few minutes, the host will get up, give some speech about the importance of literature – which I agree with – and proceed to call the authors up on stage and have them share their writing journey. After that, like every other event, they'll open the dance floor, turning this into just another excuse to drink on a Thursday evening.
I know Timay's attended a few of these before but nothing like this.
"Are you ready to go up there?" I whisper in her ear.
"Go up where?"
"On stage."
"The fuck am I going up there for?"
"Aunt Lyd gave you talking points about this," I smirk, her orbs widening. "You didn't pay attention, did you?"
"How could I when your hand was almost down my pants, Noah?" She deadpans, my smirk widening.
"I thought you could multitask."
"There's no such thing," she grits out. "You think you're multitasking but in reality, you're just pausing one thing and shifting focus to another."
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Timothy Wood's voice interrupts all conversations, gathering the attention of all the guests except one.
Timay's glare is focused solely on me, her eyes narrowed into slits that attack my soul, "you know who he is, love?" I ask, hoping to direct her glare elsewhere. You don't understand. She has her glare nailed. It's the kind of glare that penetrates your soul, making you squirm in your seat. Her glare can intimidate the toughest man, making him shrink down to twice his size.
Fuck, an assassin would beg her to kill him just to prevent the uneasiness that settles into your bones with the feel of her stare fixated on you.
I know, that's going to far, but you understand now, right?
"He owns one of the largest and most successful publishing houses in New York with divisions worldwide. He's the giant of all publishers... Most authors long to have his publishing house name on their books and he was aunt Lyd's mentor."
