Page 52 of The Write Place

“No. Let me.” I take it from him and unwrap it, tossing the wrapper aside. I feel his eyes on me as I move back toward him, placing the condom over the head of him, slowly unrolling it down his length. I’m not sure he’s breathing when I straighten, my hand still around him.

His eyes meet mine, and I see the same reverence I’ve noticed when he is writing. My heart squeezes when I realize this is also how he sees me. He gently lays me back on the bed, as if I’m something precious to be handled carefully. I open my legs, and he lines himself up with my opening, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yes, Daniel,” I breathe, answering his unasked question. Just as his lips meet mine again, he thrusts into me, shallowly at first, but within a few thrusts he is seated all the way inside of me and my hips raise in time with his. He takes his time, his thrusts slow and sensual. His tongue follows the motions of his hips, gently parting my lips and sweeping in and out.

My breathing quickens as the pleasure builds. He lowers his lips to my neck and raises a hand to cup my breast. His breathing becomes uneven as his thrusts move faster and harder. My hips meet his stroke for stroke, and my hands roam his back, nails scraping lightly, willing him to move deeper.

“You feel,” he’s almost gasping. “I never imagined this. Not in all the time I’ve spent thinking about how this would be. It’s better. So much better.” We are both breathless, our hands roaming, exploring each other, learning where the other finds pleasure and lingering in spots that elicit moans and gasps.

Then there’s just our hips meeting each other, kissing then releasing, waves of pleasure building in the push and pull of it until he presses a kiss to my neck, pinching my nipple and I’m tumbling over the edge again, the muscles of my core clutching him and pulling him over with me.

Neither of us moves for a while, catching our breath. He pulls out slowly, and I’m struck by the absence of him. He rolls away for a second and I hear the condom land in the trash can next to the bed. He shifts to lie on his side, and a soft, warm hand spreads over my torso. He watches me, and I roll my head to face him.

He kisses me tenderly, his hand sliding up over my torso to rest on my jaw. He pulls back to look at me, leaving his hand. His thumb traces lines back and forth across my cheek. I roll to my side to fully face him.

“Can I fangirl for a minute?” I ask. “I don’t want to scare you away.”

“There is not one thing you could say to me that would tear me from you right now.”

I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of his thumb moving on my cheek. “Okay, well, when I was in college, I read Playing House curled up in my dorm room bed. I waited until late at night to read it because there were always people everywhere, and I wanted to read slowly and savor it without interruption. It was—maybe still is—the most sensual book I’ve ever read. I searched for a feeling like the one I had while reading that book in my relationships for a long time, but I never found it.”

He closes the distance between us, kissing me deeply. He breaks the kiss, but our noses still touch. “I guess I’m proud to have ruined you for all other men.” He’s teasing, and I laugh brightly.

“You did, actually,” I say through my laughter, and then I fall quiet. I look down at our bodies pressed together before I speak again. “When I texted you that I was reminiscing about a good book I read in college, it was yours.” The admission almost makes me feel foolish.

When he finally responds, his voice is rough. “You’re better than anything I could have imagined while writing that book.”

I lift my face to his, and he is looking at me with such longing that I don’t think twice. I bring my lips to his and we spend the rest of the night coming together over and over again.

Chapter 22

I wake up the next morning to autumn sunlight streaming through the windows and Daniel Evans nuzzling my neck, his brown hair tickling underneath my jaw, and for a second, I cannot actually believe that this is my real life.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks into the skin of my neck, his hand tucking beneath my stomach and pulling me so my back rests against the front of him. He’s hard again, as if we hadn’t spent all last night making love. I gasp slightly, and his low hum rumbles through me.

“Well, I was thinking that I can’t believe this is real,” I admit, “but now, what I’m thinking is completely indecent.” He chuckles softly, pressing hot kisses along my collarbone. His phone buzzes across the room and he groans.

“I was thinking completely indecent things, too, but now I’m thinking I am going to throw my phone into Lake Michigan.”

I giggle, rolling onto my other side to face him. He rests his hand on my hip, making no move to check his phone, which buzzes again. “You could turn it off,” I suggest. “For today. We could pretend this is a little vacation.”

He looks at me dubiously, and for a second, I’m afraid he’s going to tell me he needs to get back to work as soon as possible, but he brings his hand to the back of my neck and my eyelids flutter at the softness of his touch. He leans his forehead against mine and I can feel his warm breath on my face.

“If this is a little vacation, does that mean we have to go back to normal when I take you home later?” His voice is as soft as his touch.

I open my eyes and search his. “Is that what you want?” I ask, holding my breath.

“No.” He shakes his head, and I relax into the mattress. “I haven’t had nearly enough of you.” He kisses me deeply, and I bring my hand to rest on his bare chest. He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. “Unless that’s what you want.”

“Absolutely not,” I say breathlessly, leaning forward to kiss him more. His phone buzzes again, and he grumbles something incoherent as he throws the covers off of himself and crosses the room to look at it. I take the opportunity to drink in the sight of him, all lean muscle and smooth skin. He runs a hand through his hair, and I can clearly see the muscles of his bicep ripple with the movement. He purses his lips in frustration and types something quickly on his phone, and I can’t help but think of all the delicious things those lips and fingers did to me last night. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to restrain myself from jumping out of bed and selfishly throwing his phone into the lake myself.

His phone screen goes dark. “That’s it. It’s off for the rest of the day.”

“Will your editor have an aneurysm?” I ask, only half joking. He shrugs a shoulder.

“What’s she gonna do, fly out here and duct tape my hands to the keyboard?”

He grins when I laugh at the image. “Besides,” he continues, “I’m almost done.”

“That was fast,” I say, impressed. I sit up on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest and bringing the comforter up over them. “I was under the impression it took months to draft a novel.” He shrugs again, still standing there in all his naked glory. Not that I’m complaining.