The Write Escape

by Charish Reid

  Antonia quickly found her footing in the dark, breathless from part fright and part arousal. “Goddammit,” she muttered, brushing the curls from her face.

  Before she had time to gather her thoughts, Aiden stormed off toward the door. When he swung it open, a flash of lightning brightened the sky, revealing his heaving bare chest. His face was tense with thin-lipped irritation. “What?”

  “Oh! Dr. Byrnes... I’m a, erm, where’s the young woman...” Antonia heard a familiar voice stammering from the kitchen. It was old man Creely.

  “Mr. Creely,” Aiden said in a softer tone. “I’m sorry, please come in.”

  Antonia searched the dark kitchen with her feet, feeling around for her discarded sweatshirt. She swooped it up and slipped it over her head before running to the front door. Mr. Creely regarded the both of them with a curious stare.

  “Mr. Creely,” she said, still out of breath and slightly disheveled. “Please get out of the rain, I’ve got a fire going.”

  She pulled the elderly man inside and closed the door behind him. He stood in the foyer and shook out his umbrella, his hand still gripping the neck of his raincoat. “I won’t be stayin’ fer long,” he said.

  “Would you like a drink?” Aiden suggested. He was shirtless and standing at an awkward angle. Antonia looked down at his groin and guessed why. Jesus, he’s trying to hide an erection.

  “Oh no, I’ve got something at home,” Creely said with a chuckle. “I was just checking on the lady. It’s a powerful gale out there and with the lights out, I hoped you weren’t too afraid.”

  She gave a nervous laugh and waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing to be afraid of,” she said. “Dr. Byrnes was thoughtful enough to stop by with whiskey.”

  “Yes, yes, I see...” Creely looked around at their intimate scene. Aiden’s shirt draped over the fireplace rack should have been a good reason for his half-naked appearance. “Well if you’re okay, I’ll see m’self out. The power ought to be back by the morning.”

  “Yes, well, please be careful out there,” Antonia said. She certainly appreciated the thought behind his visit, but was anxious for him to leave. There was plenty of unfinished business between her and her first guest.

  “Well,” Creely said slowly. “If you’re alright...”

  “Doing pretty well,” she said in a chipper tone.

  Aiden walked him to the door and closed it behind him. With both of his hands planted on the door, his head hung in embarrassment. “Jaysus,” he muttered.

  Antonia sank into the couch and burrowed into the cushions with shame. “What do you suspect he’s thinking right now?”

  Aiden gave a wry chuckle and made his way back to the living room. “If he likes you, and I reckon he does, he probably thinks I’m a lech.”

  They looked at each other. There was a clear and apparent line that they had crossed. There was no going back and they probably needed to talk about it. “You’re not a lech,” she said with a smile. “Could you pass me the whiskey?”

  He gathered their glasses and the bottle, taking a seat beside her. As he poured them both another shot, she drew her knees to her chest and snuggled against the arm of the couch. There was a considerable amount of space between the two of them and perhaps that was a relief. Maybe Mr. Creely’s interruption was a blessing in disguise. She’d actually been about to have sex with a man in her kitchen during a blackout. That’s how babies are made.

  “What are you grinning about?” he asked, handing her a glass.

  Antonia shook her head. “I think we were about to do something rather foolish.”

  Aiden returned her smile. “You think?”

  “Unless you brought something else besides whiskey?” she asked. “Like protection?”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t,” he admitted. “Like I said, it certainly wasn’t my intention to, uh, you know.” He cleared his throat.

  Antonia scooted to his side of the couch and settled against him. He gathered her to him, wrapping an arm around her waist. “To get into my pants?” she offered.

  “Right. That.”

  “It was quite alright,” she said, resting her cheek against the soft springy hair of his chest. Antonia didn’t want to admit it, but that passionate make out session was what she needed to affirm what she should have thought about herself. She was still sensual and still desirable. Antonia just needed to be herself and let the chips fall where they may. Aiden awakened something in her that she’d ignored out of hurt.

  “What would you like to do tomorrow?” Aiden asked.

  She stifled a yawn and snuggled closer to him. “I don’t know. I think I might write some more.”

  “Have you found some more inspiration?” he asked. She heard the smile in his voice.

  “I have,” she replied. “Bryon is going to make out with Augusta.”

  “Sounds like a right wolf, that one.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aiden woke up to the morning light shining through the living room. The clattering in the kitchen reminded him that he was still in Antonia’s home. After that magnificent storm from last night, it was now a quiet sunny day. He stretched his legs along her couch and twisted his back to work out the kinks.

  “Antonia?”

  “I’m making something to eat,” she said from the kitchen. “I don’t have eggs, but I’ve got pizza.”

  He smiled. No doubt, one of his frozen margherita pizzas. “That sounds wonderful.”

  Aiden was famished and thirsty with all the drinking they’d done on empty stomachs. It’d been fine enough at the time, when it seemed like Antonia would be on the menu. He sat on the couch staring into the now dead fireplace. My god. The kiss they had shared in the dark kitchen was far better than any naughty fantasy he could have dreamt. Antonia’s body was so right in his hands. He remembered cupping every delicious curve as he picked her up and hugged her close. Everything about her fit perfectly against his mouth and in his hands. While Mr. Creely’s poorly timed interruption was infuriating, he was relieved he didn’t do anything foolish. Another wave of relief swept through Aiden. One tangled with powerful lust. He was glad they’d been interrupted because he wanted to make love to her during the day. He wanted to see the warm glow of her brown skin bathed in light. He wanted Antonia with an overwhelming intensity that he hadn’t known in ages.

  “It’ll be done in a minute,” she said, peeking through the doorway. She was still wearing that baggy sweatshirt that covered her figure, but she looked more refreshed than he felt. “Do you want some tea?”

  “I’d love some tea,” he said brightly. “And a gallon of water as well.”

  She laughed. “You’ll have to make it,” she said. “I don’t know how to work the kettle and I think I might have broken it last night.”

  Aiden retrieved his now-dry T-shirt from the fireplace and walked to the kitchen, ruffling her messy hair as he went. “We’ll see what we can manage,” he said with a yawn.

  In the small kitchen space, he moved around her, examining the kettle and filling it up with tap water. When he plugged it up, she scooted around him to pull the pizza out, setting it on the stove. The well-timed dance between the two of them didn’t go unnoticed by Aiden. He swiftly grabbed her in his arms and pulled her close to him. Her reaction was a startled laugh that brightened her eyes. “What are you...”

  He raised one of her arms high and wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. “Do you dance?”

  She looked up at him, her brown eyes twinkling. “Not without music,” she said. “And not waltzing.”

  “But you’ve danced with a man?”

  “Well, since they invented a dance called the twist, women have had the freedom to dance with partners without intricate steps.” God, she is a keeper. Aiden noticed Antonia’s feisty wit emerged the more she relaxed.

  “You mean y
ou don’t wear corsets and foxtrot with a chaperone nearby?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I do not.”

  “Then I’m going to teach you a quick two-step,” he said. He led her around the kitchen as she tried not to step on his toes. “One and two and one and two...”

  “Oh my god, this is silly,” she giggled.

  “You never know when it might come in handy,” Aiden replied. “Least that’s what my mam told me when she signed me up for classes.”

  Antonia kept her face down, staring at their feet as they moved together. “How old were you?”

  “I was eight,” he said with a rueful smile. He was the only boy in his grade who was dropped off for dance classes while the others were learning how to fight in a boxing ring. Now that he was older, he understood his mother was making an early attempt to lead him from a different path than his father. He smiled at the memory and realized the skill proved to be mighty helpful with women.

  “My mom made me take piano lessons when I was eight,” she said with a chuckle.

  “That is also very helpful,” he said, trying to twirl her. She tripped over her own feet and stumbled against him. “You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

  She glanced over her shoulder with a demure smile. “Yes, that’s definitely it.”

  As he released her to check on the teakettle, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. “Sorry, hold on,” he said. “It’s probably my mother.”

  But his screen displayed a different, more surprising name. It was Robert. “It’s my boss,” he said.

  “You should take that,” Antonia said, holding a large butcher knife over the pizza. “It could be mysterious tenure stuff.”

  Aiden rolled his eyes. “He demanded I go on holiday. Mysterious tenure stuff could wait a little while.”

  She smiled as she cut herself a slice of pizza. “Still. You have to think about your future.”

  Antonia’s gentle chiding was pleasant to his ears. It was as if they’d been dancing around the kitchen, making breakfast pizza, for years. He let his gaze linger on her smile as he answered the phone. “Hey, Robert.”

  “Oh, good, Aiden, I’m glad I caught you. How is Tully Cross?”

  “It’s fine, Robert. We had a good storm last night, but it will dry out soon enough. What can I do for you?”

  “I won’t take up your time, but Penny and I are leaving for Greece tomorrow and I need to make sure things are in order before we leave. I came across a call for chapters in an American Literature anthology that might be up your alley.”

  “Oh yeah?” Aiden said absently, keeping his eyes on Antonia as she pulled her slice away from the pan. Cheese stretched with every tug, until she took the strings of mozzarella between her thumb and index finger and dropped them into her mouth. When she licked her fingers, Aiden licked his lips. She tilted her head back and let the corner of the slice rest against her tongue before taking a large bite. How can anyone make eating pizza look so sexy? Her eyes closed as a low groan escaped her throat.

  “This is so good,” she whispered.

  He nodded. He was a believer in Goodfella’s thin crust pizza, but it couldn’t have been better than his current view of her mouth.

  “Yes, the ad was calling for an interesting mix of international voices to juxtapose certain themes in American Literature,” Robert continued. “Identity and nationality seems quite important to them.”

  Aiden switched gears and returned to his phone conversation. “How exactly?”

  “I’ve emailed it to you,” Robert said. “I think you should take a look at their criteria, but I imagine your conference paper could easily transition into a longer length article.”

  “And possibly a chapter,” Aiden finished. “Yeah, I’ll look at that today.”

  “How is the writing going?” his mentor asked in a cautious tone. “Have you been able to get back to it?”

  He chuckled at Robert’s concern. He hated that the old man felt he needed to check in, but he appreciated the support nonetheless. “I have.”

  “You seem a little distracted. Have I called at a bad time?”

  As he continued watching Antonia nibble at her pizza, without a plate, he smiled. Her curls balanced precariously atop her head as she leaned over the stove, dropping crumbs over the burners. He wanted nothing more than to get off the phone and join her. And after they finished their meal, he could drive at a breakneck speed to Letterfrack for condoms. “No, not a bad time,” he said. “I’m actually at my neighbor’s cottage having breakfast.”

  “Oh, how pleasant. A local?”

  “She’s from America,” Aiden said and paused. “I met her a few days ago.”

  Robert waited a beat before replying. “I see... Then I am interrupting.”

  Antonia licked her thumb again. Her lush lips circled the saucy digit as her eyes fell shut. It was like watching her eat eggs all over again. Aiden forced his body to relax. “Only slightly. But I will read your email today and let you know if it’s something I could do.”

  “Of course, of course. Don’t trouble yourself too much if you’re, uh.” Robert coughed. “Otherwise occupied.”

  “Thank you and safe travels to you and Penny.”

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll pass the sentiment along to Penny. I’ll see you at the conference, Aiden.”

  “You will.”

  When he hung up, he tucked his phone into his back pocket and reached out to Antonia. The back of his fingers grazed her soft cheek while she chewed her breakfast. “I could watch you eat for hours,” he whispered.

  Her mouth twisted into a frown. “That turns you on?”

  “Watching your mouth does,” he said, taking another step toward her. “I don’t care what it’s doing, I just imagine it doing other things.”

  The crease in her brow relaxed as she gazed up at him. “What other things?”

  He took what was left of her pizza and set it on the stove, all while focusing his stare at her lips. “You’re the romance writer,” he said. “I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

  Antonia’s face broke into a wide grin. “Let me get back to you on that.”

  His fingers traveled to her pointed chin and tilted it upward. “You do that, darling,” he said before kissing her. Her body relaxed against his as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Aiden held her close and kissed her deeply until his erection reminded him that he had to remain responsible.

  Antonia broke away from his lips to glance down. “He’s back.”

  “He’s persistent,” Aiden said with a desperate laugh. “I’m sorry about that.”

  She glanced up at him, their faces only an inch apart. “I don’t think apologies are necessary.”

  “I’m not always a horny teenager,” he said. “I’m usually much better at—”

  “Stop,” Antonia said through her laughter. “It’s not the insult you think it is. Now, are you hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “Let me cut you a slice of this,” she said, reaching for the knife.

  He took it before she could and kissed her cheek. “My dear, I can always serve myself.”

  She glanced up at him with a confused expression. “I just...”

  “And I can serve you too,” he said, separating a slice for himself. “I like to do both.”

  Antonia shook her head and chuckled to herself.

  “What?”

  She cast him another glance. “Oh nothing,” she said with a bemused grin. “I just thought of something my mother said.”

  “Men should serve you pizza, in bed, when the occasion calls for it?”

  “Something like that.”

  He ate his slice in a couple bites and watched her expression shift from confusion to amusement. “Would you mind if I used your computer to check my school email? My boss sent me something about an anthology se
eking submissions.”

  “Sure, it’s in my bedroom,” she said. “Is the tea ready?”

  “Yep,” Aiden said, walking to her bedroom. Her bed was a mess of books, mostly paperback romances, notebooks and notecards. When he found her laptop, he was careful not to tamper with her story, which was still open. Antonia was already on a page eighty-four. Aiden glanced out the door to see her pour a cup of tea and move to the living room. He knew he shouldn’t, but he scrolled through her document and began reading her book from the beginning.

  Aiden didn’t know any actual writers. Real ones at least. He’d written a dissertation, but instead of publishing it as a monograph, he’d let it fall by the wayside when he started teaching. This, however, would be something that the world could read. A thrill shot through him as his eyes swept over the text. It was obvious that the heroine, Augusta, was based on Antonia. The protagonist may have been brash and mouthy, but some of her mannerisms felt familiar. The way she nibbled on her lip when she needed to think. The way she rubbed the space between her eyes when she was irritated. He’d seen it a few times after interacting with Antonia. As Aiden settled against her bed, he continued reading the harrowing introduction to Augusta’s character. The research that Antonia did to accurately describe the Arab Spring held his attention. The actions her heroine took to hunt down her story made him want to read more.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered. “Shot in the leg?”

  Augusta was going to cover this story at all costs and Aiden was right there with her. He scrolled ahead to get to the bit about Bryon and his mouth curled into a smile. Aiden didn’t want to think of himself as an arrogant bastard, but the description of the hero was quite familiar. Right down to the smiling green eyes and heavy black brow. He glanced at the doorway again. Aiden could never tell Antonia that he had read this much. It was almost akin to reading her diary. His eyes widened when he read the passage regarding the heroine’s physical reaction to Bryon’s closeness.