WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU HAD TO SHARE THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS WITH A WHOLE LOT OF OTHER WOMEN?
When she shows up at a doorstep in New York City on a rainy night, destitute and bleeding and wearing burn marks on her hands, Devon takes her in. He nurses, clothes and feeds her in a turn of events that would change their lives forever.
But Devon, an artist by day, is a hustler by night to make ends meet. His clientele is diverse and very rich. Some of them can even be cruel, as evidenced by the marks on his beautiful body.
As Abby is swept up in Devon's unpredictable world, a tragedy strikes that neither of them could have foreseen.
BURN is the first volume in an explosive and very sensual New Adult romance series. It is approximately 28,000 words. Abby and Devon will not get their 'Happily Ever After' at the end of this novella, but their story and the shocking twist at the end will be continued in BURN 2.
WARNING: There is plenty of sexually explicit content in this New Adult novella. It is not meant for those under the age of 18.
BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:
Devon creeps in at about four in the morning. Abby is already asleep, but she is a light sleeper and she awakes as soon as he closes the main door with a sharp click.
She doesn't say anything as he enters the bedroom. She can see his silhouette against the backdrop of the window. He is breathing rapidly and looking at her as she lies there in his bed, pretending to sleep.
He gazes at her for a long, long time. Then he moves noiselessly to the attached bathroom and closes the door behind him. She can see the slat of light coming on beneath the door. She listens for the sounds of a shower being turned on, but there is none.
He is in there for an unusually long time. There is no sound of a toilet flush or running water or anything associated with someone being in a bathroom. She sits up in his bed, unable to go back to sleep. She's worried about him. Is he all right?
"Devon?" she calls softly.
Of course, the bathroom door is shut and he may be unable to hear her.
She gets out of bed. She is in one of the long T-shirts he has bought for her earlier that she now uses as a nightgown. Her feet are bare, but the bedroom is carpeted. She pads to the bathroom door and presses her ear against it.
"Devon?" she calls again.
When there is no answer, she turns the doorknob slowly. It rotates without meeting resistance. She pushes open the door, and winces when the hinges creak painfully.
Devon is slumped in the bathtub. His mouth is open and his eyes are shut, and he is snoring slightly. His head rests against the rim and his long legs are folded. He is shirtless, and the shower is not on. His body is twisted slightly so that she can see his back.
What she sees makes her gasp.
His pale back is crisscrossed with angry red striations, as though someone has repeatedly beaten him with a stick. An opened jar of emollient cream lies beside the bathtub. He has obviously been trying to apply it to his injuries.
Has he been beset by muggers, just as she has?
"Devon?" She shakes his arm gently. "Devon?"
"Wh-what?" he splutters and opens his sleep-encrusted eyes. For a moment, he cringes when he sees her, and then he remembers where he is and relaxes. "I must have fallen asleep. Did I wake you?"
"Devon, what happened to you?'" She indicates his back. "Did someone hurt you? Were you mugged?"
"Mugged?" He looks startled. "No. I wasn't mugged." He seems uneasy now that she has seen his back.
"What happened then?" she insists.
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