It had been a considerable amount of time since Devon left to meet with the general, and my nerves were eating me alive. I couldn't stop replaying his last words in my mind.
"You're staying here tonight."
I wondered if it was a wise decision to sleep with him. I mean-sleep in the same room. Not sleep with him.
Heat rushed to my face at the thought of everything that had happened between us. Devon was an incredible kisser, and the more I thought about it, the warmer I became.
I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand against my heated face.
Focus!
I needed a distraction.
Pushing off the bed, I decided to explore his room. I had planned to check out his bookshelf, but a book in the corner caught my attention. It was open, a pen placed in the middle as if he had abandoned it mid-thought.
Curious, I picked it up.
The pages were filled with neat, handwritten text-but the language was entirely foreign to me. I had never seen anything like it before.
Had Devon written this?
