Devil in the Details Read Online Jenika Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Novella Tags Authors: Jenika Snow Advertisement

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But when David had brought it up to me, pestered me if I were being honest, I gave in and decided it couldn’t be that bad. One night. A few hours. It wasn’t like I didn’t need to let loose. The work I did day in and day out could drain you to the marrow.

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting in my date, but it wasn’t the woman sitting in front of me.

Olive was funny and witty, her snarkiness a turn-on. She was gorgeous, with a mane of dark hair that curled at the ends and eyes so blue I idly wondered if the color was real.

Going on this blind date, I had no intentions of seeing her again. I agreed to come for the sake of my brother, but shit, I wanted to see Olive again. I wanted to get to know her, to know what she liked and disliked, what her strengths and weaknesses were. I wanted to know a lot of things about her. In fact, the short time I’d been in her company, I couldn’t stop wondering what she looked like naked... how she sounded when she came.

My thoughts turned fucking obscene and filthy pretty damn quickly. It made me feel a little bit ashamed I was letting them go there, but not ashamed enough to try and stop them.

She pushed her empty beer glass aside and exhaled slowly. Her cheeks were red, her eyes glossy.

She was drunk.

“I should’ve stopped three beers ago,” she said, and there was a slight slur in her voice.

“You’re letting loose. I get it. Believe me.”

She smiled slowly, and I knew for a fact that she didn’t realize how fucking hot she looked when she did it.

I wanted to tell her too, wanted to invite her back to my place. But she was drunk, and no fucking way was I going there. No fucking way would I even contemplate taking advantage of her. She deserved better. And I wanted her fully with it when I asked her out for a second date.

Which I planned on doing.

And I wanted her fucking sober when I finally had her... which I would.

I’d already decided that. No matter what, this wouldn’t be the only time I saw Olive.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Olive

The first thing I noticed was the fact that my head pounded. Was there a sledgehammer behind my eyes? I didn’t want to open them, because I knew it would just make the pain even worse.

The second thing I realized was the feeling of warmth on my face.

You have to open your eyes at some point. Can’t stay in bed all day.

I couldn’t remember what happened or how I got back in my bed, but then again, I did remember being loose with those beers and shakes.

I groaned and rolled onto my back, breathed out slowly, and took note there was a spicy masculine scent that enveloped me. My eyes were still closed as I spread my arms and legs out, doing a snow angel on the mattress. The sheets were chilled but warmed considerably as the seconds moved by. The sheets felt soft, softer than I remembered having on my bed, but I was so hungover I didn’t think too much about it.

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking a few times, as the brightness was like knives inside my head. Everything was blurry for a moment, and I blinked a few times again. My vision started to clear as I stared at the ceiling. I tilted my head to the side as I realized the ceiling was white… too white from what I remembered. There weren’t any water stains either, which my bedroom definitely had.

I slowly sat up, mindful of sudden movements, because my head was bitching me out. I lifted my hand and covered my eyes, closing them as I let the pain subside marginally.

And then as I sat there, it all came rushing back to me—well, in bits and pieces, like a fragmented movie that was trying to right itself but just couldn’t make the connection.

Pope.

All those orange-fucking-freezes.

I groaned again as the memory of those drinks had my head pounding and my stomach churning.

I inhaled, and the scent of what I now realized was all Pope filled my head, somewhat easing that ache marginally.

Slightly spicy.

A hint of wildness.

All male.

I dropped my hand to the mattress and looked around the room. Everything was so masculine, with dark undertones against white walls and white linens.

The scent of coffee finally pierced my brain, and I looked toward the partially open bedroom door. Then the sound of pans banging had my heart doing a little hiccup behind my ribs. My throat was suddenly tight, my mouth dry. He was down there. Waiting for me. And here I was, scared as hell.

I gripped the sheets and pulled them up to my chest. Did we have sex? I pulled the sheet out and looked down. I had my bra and panties on, and a glance to my left showed the rest of my clothes folded neatly on the dresser. I didn’t feel like I’d gotten it on last night, but I’d been so drunk, who the hell knew for sure? And would I have put my panties back on afterward?


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