Page 18
15
My words are coming faster than they ever have as I bang out page after page on my manuscript. Honey has been transformed completely. After she takes it upon herself to give Max a stellar b**w j*b while he’s driving his royal blue, Shelby Mustang GT500 with white racing stripes down the hood, she informs him that she’s going to fight by his side. The only thing she asks in return is that he f**k her hard and never leave her. No… she doesn’t ask… she demands it of him.
I’ll never leave you, Max vows.
Who would have thought that Max would ever entertain the thought of monogamy?
My phone rings, startling me and completely f**king up my concentration. Sighing, I grab it and see it’s Lindie calling from New York.
“You’re disturbing me,” I grumble into the phone when I connect.
“Well, if you’d return a call, text, or email once in a while, I wouldn’t be forced to perform such a dastardly deed,” she throws back at me. “So how are things going?”
“They’re fine,” I tell her, my eyes glancing over the last few paragraphs I just wrote. “I’m going to need another few weeks though. ”
“No can do,” she tells me. “Your editor said no more extensions. ”
“Well, if they want a completed manuscript, they’re going to have to f**king wait,” I snarl, having no time to argue about this shit. God, I long for the days of self-publishing.
“Are you drinking?” Lindie asks suspiciously.
“Not at the moment,” I tell her as I stand from my desk, walking over to the glass doors that lead out on to the deck. The sun is hanging bright this morning, casting silver sparkles on the blue-green of the Atlantic. They twinkle merrily; sometimes a strong ray of light causes a sharp burst of brightness that hits me in my eyes and dazzles me.
“Tell me you got your shit together, Gavin,” she implores. “That you do not need this extra time because you’re sunk deep in the bottle. ”
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I reassure her. “I’m fine. I’ve just added a new character to the book and it’s taking me a bit longer. ”
“Wait a minute… you can’t do that. They’re expecting a very specific story line. ”
“And they’ll get the same story line,” I placate. “Just with a little bit more added. ”
“Don’t f**k this up, Gavin,” she tells me straight, and that’s why I pay her. To keep me straight.
“Stop worrying. Get me two weeks and you’ll have a masterpiece,” I promise.
We talk some more about the publishing schedule, another manuscript she wants to pitch for me, and updates me on the status of her negotiating a movie deal for the trilogy. It all goes in one ear and out the other, because all I can think about now that I’ve stepped five feet away from my laptop is Savannah.
The anti-heroine who would be heroine. She’s the reason I need the extra few weeks on my manuscript. Not only has she thrown my story for a loop, but she also has me wanting another taste of her. And I don’t think just one more taste is going to satisfy me for some reason.
I had always figured I’d head back to London when I was finished with this manuscript, but now I’m not sure if I’m ready to give up her brand of sweet just yet.
“Are you listening to me, Gavin?” Lindie asks in exasperation.
“Not a word,” I tell her honestly. “I need to get back to writing. ”
“Don’t forget… you have a book signing in Chicago next month. ”
Fuck… I did forget. The last thing I want to do is go sit at a table while a long line of people wait to meet me. “Email me the details so I can put it all on my calendar. ”
After I hang up with Lindie, I stare at my phone for a moment. I look back to my laptop and the manuscript that is begging for me to massage it, and then look back to my phone. Before I can stop myself, I text Savannah.
What are you doing right now?
Slipping my phone in my pocket, I decide to go downstairs for a snack, but I get an immediate chime and pull my phone back up. She responded.
Reading your book. You?
My thumb grazes over the screen… over Savannah’s words, and I think about our dinner last night. Her story—about how she was nearly raped and the hell she went through to get vindicated—amazes me. It made me realize that I had truly misjudged her. I didn’t give her credit for this calm, inner strength that she seems to possess. Over the last several months, I had let myself refuse to believe that any woman could possess those traits.
And yet, here was a woman that was absolutely gorgeous, sweetly innocent, yet with a backbone of steel who made my c**k hard all the time. My attraction to her went through the roof after she shared her “secret” with me, yet at the end of the night, when I took her back home and walked her to the door, I did so with the absolute conviction I was not going to be f**king her that night.
Before she even had a chance to unlock her door, I bent down and with one hand cupping her face, gave her a very short, very chaste kiss before I said, “Goodnight, Sweet. ”
Confusion filled those beautiful eyes, and she said, “I don’t understand. ”
“I’m saying goodnight,” I affirmed. “And I’ll see you next Tuesday. ”
I turned to leave her, because if I looked at her another moment, I was going to drag her down to the wooden porch and f**k the hell out of her. And that wouldn’t have been right… not after she just told me about getting attacked and mauled by a man that clearly felt he had the right to take what he wanted.
Just like me half the time. I take without any regard to the consequences I would leave behind. I’ve already done it once with Savannah and, if I did it again, it would almost make me feel like I was no better than that monster Kevin.
“Did I do something wrong?” Savannah had asked before I could make my way off her porch.
Turning back to her, I took her face in my hands. I leaned down and kissed her again. This time not so sweet, not so chaste, and my dick got all excited for what it thought might be coming. But I pulled away, kissed her nose, and said, “No, Sweet… you happen to do everything just right. ”
Then I left her standing by her door. I tried to forget her for a while. In the two hours I was working on my manuscript, completely lost in my writing zone, I had indeed pushed her away. But for almost every other minute of my conscious time, she’s been plaguing my mind. I laid in bed last night, thinking of how badly I needed her yesterday… how I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from f**king her on the top of my kitchen table, and I thought about how hard I had indeed f**ked her and how f**king mind-blowing the orgasm I had was. Then I jacked off to the memory and was satisfied for a while.
Then that passed, and I was left wanting again.
I text her back. Let’s go for a ride.
She responds immediately. Shouldn’t you be writing?
I need a break. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.
The only thing she wrote back was, Okay.
Savannah opens her door, smiling at me shyly. I stand there a moment… drinking her in. She’s wearing her long, dark hair loose, spilling over her shoulders and down her back. Another pair of tight, faded jeans, a heavy cream, cable-knit sweater, and black riding boots with brown leather trim completes the look of a woman that’s set to go on a lazy car ride with me down the coast.
Which was my original intention. Just to get out for a bit… spend some time with her. See what other surprises she can hit me over the head with. See if maybe I can figure her out, look for cracks or falsehoods. Maybe even expose her for a flash in the pan, and maybe not a woman deserving of what may be growing into an obsession for me.
Instead, I’m overwhelmed with desire for her.
Desire, not lust.
Because they are two different things.
Lust suggests a carnal need to slake oneself until there is no further need.
Desire suggests a cra
ving… something that is pervasive and without end. Something that slowly pulls at you… warms you from the inside out and fogs your senses entirely.
This is what I feel for Savannah at this very moment, as she stands before me all sweetly naïve as to what I really want. It’s the first time that I want something that I don’t think I deserve in the slightest, and the selfish part of me… the part of me that doesn’t give a f**k if I end up shredding her in the process, decides to take it.
Stepping into her house, I crowd into her, causing her to step back a few feet so I can I follow her in. I shut the door behind me and bend down, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around my waist. Her arms automatically come up to grip my shoulders, and I take the opportunity when her mouth opens in surprise to kiss her, slipping my tongue inside.
This is the third time I’ve kissed her.
But the brotherly kiss I first gave her last night, and the slightly hotter kiss that I followed up with on the heels of the first one, shouldn’t even count.
No, this is truly our first kiss and I go in deep and possessing, demanding she yield to me.
She does… immediately, her fingers digging into the muscles at my shoulder. Her mouth moves against mine, her tongue battling… tasting oh so sweet, feeling divinely warm. A tiny little moan slithers up from her throat and coats my tongue with her own desire, and I start walking through her living room.
I pull my mouth slightly away, but I leave my lips resting lightly against hers. “Where’s your bedroom, Sweet?”
She leans in and runs her lips up my neck, one hand going up to the back of my head to grip my hair tightly. “Straight back, second door on the left. ”
Savannah’s fingers tighten in my hair, and she tugs my head to the side as I walk down her hallway. Her tongue flicks against my earlobe and then she bites it, causing me to groan at her boldness. I may have to change her nickname to Spicy, because she’s not all sweet I’m finding.
I make it through her bedroom door, briefly taking note of the pale, yellow walls and white eyelet and lace comforter on her bed, complimented with a slew of white-and-yellow little pillows with lace trim and silk bows.
So sweet.
So Savannah.
I walk to the end of the bed, lift a knee up to crawl on it with her still clinging to me, and then bend forward until her back hits the mattress. She releases her hold on me, laying her head back and looking up at me with hot eyes.
“I thought we were going for a ride,” she teases me, and I find I like being teased.
“Change of plans,” I tell her as I sit back on my haunches, studying her loveliness. Prior to this moment, I was trying to lump Savannah into a category based on my experiences and hurts. She was either the heroine or anti-heroine type, and now I’m not sure what she is.
She’s just something… else.
I think about what she told me last night… about the hell she went through after nearly being raped. I wonder if the horror of that moment… when she had no control over her situation, when she was clawing at her would-be ra**st with a fevered desire to protect her innocence… I wonder if those memories come back to her when another man touches her.
It makes me doubt what I’m about to do to her, and my selfishness takes a back seat.
“Do you want me to do this?” I ask her hesitantly.
“It depends… what are you about to do?” she asks coyly, and without her saying another word, I can tell by the look on her face, by her shy words that are tinged with longing, that she wants whatever I give her.
But I need to make sure. Lifting my hand, I skim my fingers up her neck and wrap my hand around her throat lightly. I use my thumb to stroke her jawline for a moment, then lift my hand and trail my fingers back down her neck and to her collarbone just peeking out from her sweater. “I’m going to possess you, Sweet. I’m going to take my time doing it. I’m not going to let you up out of this bed until I’ve had my fill of you, and honestly… I’m not sure how long that will take. I’m going to control your body… make you scream… make you writhe against the bed, love. I want you to beg me for it… and only if your words are sweet enough for my ears, will I give it to you. So, I ask again… do you want me to do this?”
Sugar on the Edge Page 18