by K. M. Scott
Sliding his hands down to cup my ass, he pulls me to him and I feel his already hard cock. “I’d planned on telling you all about the plans I’m making for our trip, but that can wait. Right now, I’d rather be balls deep inside you than talk about anything else.”
“More research for your writing?”
Ian shakes his head as he sensually drags his lips down my neck. “Not exactly.”
I don’t stop him, and for a few moments I’m able to push the reality of what I have to tell him out of my mind. His love for me comes through in every touch of his hand and every kiss. Gently, he pulls my skirt down my body and kneeling in front of me, Ian looks up with his dark eyes and gives me one of his sexy smiles I love so much.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that I get to spend time in one of my favorite places in the world with the woman I love.”
As he slides his hands up my thigh and presses his lips to my sex, my body begins to soar. I want to be able to lose myself in him like always, but I can’t forget that at some point I’m going to have to tell him the truth and ruin all his plans.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ian
When I told Kristina I wasn’t even sure anyone would find Silk, I wasn’t kidding. Forget about the needle in the haystack. Selling a book online seems akin to the task of finding one particular tiny piece of hay in a haystack. How anyone sells any real number of books baffles me, but Sheila had said that some authors were doing it, so I figure I’ll jump in with both feet and upload Silk to all the major sales outlets that sell my historical fiction books and will take my self-published one.
It’s almost too easy. I know nothing about formatting a book to be published, but with a little reading about it online, I’m ready to go. I agree to read a friend’s book in exchange for a simple very sexy cover and then it’s time to upload.
For two days I watch our book just sit there as nobody finds it. I’m not really surprised given the nature of the major sites. Again, Silk is just one tiny piece of hay in their big haystacks. Then on the third day, there’s one sale. One. As I check the sales totals each day, I have to wonder how anyone makes any kind of living this way.
It’s definitely not something that grows organically, but for my first foray into erotica, I’m happy. A few more people buy it, and slowly reviews trickle in that show readers loving Kate and Sean as much as I loved writing them. It’s no bestseller, but I’m pleased.
Then just about five days after it’s published, I happen to be surfing through the channels as I wait for Kristina one night and see a reporter on one of the entertainment news shows say that actress Kristina Richards mentioned the book she’s reading now is Silk. Stunned to hear that, I ask her about it when she arrives.
“They were asking me bunches of questions. Did you see the whole thing? What part did you see?” she asks in an excited voice as I pour her a glass of wine.
“Not much. Just the part about the book. Was there anything else they asked you that I should know about?”
Taking the glass from my hand, she shakes her head and asks in a shaky voice, “Like what? What else would they ask me?”
She’s nervous. It’s clear in the way she’s acting, but I don’t know why. “You didn’t say anything about us, did you?”
Kristina sighs, visibly relieved by my question. “No, no. Is that what you were worried about? I told you I won’t say anything.”
“Did you say you knew the author of Silk?” I press further, still wondering why she was so nervous a minute ago.
“No. I just mentioned it in the hopes that maybe if they included that on their program that it could help it get seen. Has it?”
“Not in any appreciable way yet,” I say with a smile, still incredulous about how anyone makes a living as an author this way.
Kristina gives me a tiny kiss and smiles up at me. “I’m not a huge name, so maybe nobody cares what I read in my spare time. The interviewer did ask me what it was about, so I told her. Did they include that in the show?”
“No, not that I saw. It might have helped. You know what they say. Sex sells.”
My joke makes her giggle and she nuzzles my neck. “Mmmm…yes it does.”
Taking her in my arms, I kiss the tender skin just below her ear and ask, “Have you been thinking about our trip? Are you excited about it?”
Her neck and shoulders tense up, and I lift my head to see her beautiful blue eyes clouded over. She forces a smile, but something’s wrong. I can see it. Nodding, she answers, “I haven’t thought much about it yet, but I’m very excited. I’ve never been to Rome.”
I want to break the tension that’s settled in between us, although I have no idea why it has, so I ask, “Not even for a film? I thought movie stars travelled around the world.”
Scrunching up her face, she says, “Some might, but I haven’t yet.”
There’s a pregnant pause as I watch her silently struggle to decide whether or not she wants to continue talking. She’s hiding something from me, but what? Backing away from her, I lean against the counter and fold my arms across my chest.
“Is something wrong, Kristina?”
“No. Why would something be wrong?”
Every person in the world who has something they’re hiding has asked that question in response to being asked if something is wrong. I don’t know what it is, but if she won’t tell me, my gut says it’s bad. I walk past her into the living room, hoping that when she follows me she’ll tell me what’s wrong.
I watch her as she comes toward me on the couch. If any poker player ever had a tell like she does, they’d lose their shirt every hand. My girl is a terrible liar.
“Why did you walk away like that?” she asks as she sits down next to me, cuddling up to my side.
“Just seemed like the thing to do so we don’t get into a fight tonight.”
I turn to see her blue eyes wide with surprise. “What would we fight about? I don’t understand.”
Studying her body language, I believe her, strangely enough. The worried tone in her voice says she doesn’t understand what we’d fight about because I suspect she doesn’t realize how clearly guilty she looks and whatever she’s not telling me is much worse than the sin of omission she’s committing.
“We promised to be truthful always, Kristina. Something in the way you’re acting tells me you’re not being truthful.”
That sweetness I love in her slips away, leaving a frown on her beautiful mouth. “I think I better go.”
“Wouldn’t you rather just tell me what’s wrong?”
She says nothing and stands to leave. “I have to go home, Ian.”
Fuck if she hasn’t called my bluff. I no more want her to leave than I want her to keep secrets from me, but if I have to choose between the two, I’ll deal with the secrets if only she’ll stay. I jump up from the couch and stop her.
“Don’t go.”
She hangs her head and whispers, “I have to. You don’t trust me.”
I don’t want to let her go, but she tugs her hand from my hold, and for a long moment, I stand there watching her leave like the jackass I am as my mind plays tug of war over begging her to stay and letting her walk out.
With every step she takes, I feel like I’m losing part of myself. Why did I do this? Do I really need to know every thought she has every minute of the day? What am I? Some insecure teenage boy?
“Kristina, stay.”
I walk toward the door to catch up with her, but something about her is different now. She doesn’t want to stay.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed like that. Stay and we can talk about Rome and how much fun we’re going to have together there.”
Kristina turns to face me with a look that chills my heart. Part anger, part sadness, her expression tells me I’ve made a mistake. “I’m going to go home now. I love you, but I need to go.”
She leans forward and kisses me deeply, making me hate myself all the more for the bullshit I’ve caused tonight.
I want to feel her beneath me as I make love to her. I want to show her I know I made a mistake and can make up for it.
I hold her hand, not ready for her to leave, and quietly say, “I’m sorry.”
“I know. I am too. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
And with that, her fingers slip from my hold and she walks slowly to the elevator as I stand there knowing I fucked up. I could run after her and plead for her to come back, but my silent accusations have made her walls go up, and there’s nothing I can do tonight to bring them down.
* * *
I open my eyes and how much I miss Kristina floods my brain before I can even put together a coherent thought about anything else. She should be next to me, making that adorable snoring noise she makes when she sleeps and blushing when she realizes I’ve been watching her and loving that cute pout her mouth does.
Scrubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stretch my arms and legs, missing the ache in my muscles from making love I always have after spending the night with her. God, I’m such a fuck!
The need to call her presses down on me, so I roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand. Three rings and the worry that I’ve fucked up worse than I thought begins to dawn on me. My call goes to voicemail and just hearing her gentle voice tell me she’ll call me back as soon as she can makes me wince in pain.
I don’t leave a voicemail and instead go straight for the text. Not that it’s my best way of communicating by any means, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Tapping away with my thumbs, I do my best to tell her how much I miss her without unraveling emotions all over her phone.
I’m lying here in bed missing the feel of your body against mine.
She doesn’t text back immediately, and my demons begin to take over. I’m sure she’s with someone else. That guy she met at the bar she told me about. The guy who I saw kiss her on her doorstep that night. It doesn’t matter who he is. He isn’t me.
Five minutes later, I’m out of bed and dressed to go to her place. I screwed up and I know it, so I need to do something about it.
My phone vibrates against the top of the nightstand, and relief floods my mind. I look down to see her text back to me.
I miss you too.
Snatching my phone up, I quickly text back. Come to me. We can spend all day in bed. I need you.
I hit SEND and wait for her reply. Minute after minute ticks by, but she doesn’t answer. I feel like she’s punishing me, but if she is, I deserve it. I silently will my phone to vibrate like I have some control over any of it. Hell, I barely have control over myself.
After the tenth time of me telling my phone to give me her text, it vibrates and I look down to see what she’s said.
I think it might be better for us to spend the day apart.
Each word feels like someone’s stabbing me in the gut. Apart. I hadn’t been wrong. She was hiding something from me.
Knowing me like she does, she has to expect me to do something. My legs move even before I make the decision to go to her. Grabbing my coat, I have to slow myself down so I don’t run full speed directly to her apartment. As it is, I’m barely able to keep myself to a walk as my feet pound the sidewalk toward her building just blocks away.
Ten minutes later, I’m in front of the brownstone where her apartment is and look up to see her staring down at me from her living room window. She doesn’t look frightened or angry that I’m there. And she doesn’t look surprised.
If anything, she looks pleased to see me.
I tear up the stairs from the sidewalk and find the front door open for me. She unlocked it knowing I’d come. I take the stairs inside by twos and in less than a minute I’m at her door. I hear her. She’s waiting for me to knock, to come to her.
Two sharp bangs on the door and she opens it. “Why are you here?”
“You know why. For the same reason you came to my apartment that other night.”
She bites her lower lip and knits her brows like the thought causes her pain. “I don’t want to think of that night.”
“Let me in, Kristina. Let me show you how much I missed you.”
Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath in and lets it out, her shoulders sagging from her inability to stay angry at me. Without a word, she steps aside for me to come in.
I walk past and wrap my arms around her when she closes the door, needing to feel her against me. She doesn’t move away to deny me this pleasure and leans her head back against my chest like she needs this too.
Quietly, in a small voice, she says, “Tell me how much you missed me.”
Sliding my hand up the front of her neck, I feel the warmth of her skin against mine. I’m overcome with how much I missed this. Dipping my head, I press my lips to the shell of her ear and whisper, “I woke up this morning and my skin hurt because I needed you so much, but I didn’t feel the ache I always feel after we make love.”
She covers my hand with hers and whimpers softly as she arches her back. Her breasts graze my arm, and I feel her nipples hard from excitement. I love how responsive she is to my touch and my words.
“I feel like a part of me is missing when you aren’t with me. Like someone’s torn away something necessary and I can’t go on without it, Kristina.”
“Whatever this is we have between us makes me crazy, Ian.”
Turning her to face me, I lift her chin so she has to look at me. “There’s nothing wrong with being in crazy in love, Kristina.”
“I don’t want to be crazy. Crazy gets people hurt. I don’t want to hurt you or have you hurt me.”
I place a soft kiss on her lips and whisper, “Sometimes love hurts. That doesn’t mean it isn’t love.”
She asks with a frown, “Why did you act like that toward me last night?”
I don’t know why I acted like that. Because I thought she was lying. Because I worried she was holding something back. Pressing my forehead to hers, I answer her as truthfully as I can. “Because I’m fucked up and being with me means you see that. I just want to know you won’t run away because of it.”
“I would never hurt you intentionally, Ian.” She leans her cheek against my hand and looks so sad. “I swear.”
“I know. You’re sweet and gentle and I’m a fucked up mess without you.”
“Maybe we should take a couple weeks off.”
Grabbing a fistful of her hair in my hand, I tug hard as my fears threaten to overrun me. Her eyes fill with tears, and I frantically say, “No. I don’t want to take any time off from us, Kristina. Tell me you don’t want to either.”
“Please let go. You’re hurting me!”
I loosen my hold on her hair and kiss her hard on the lips. She fights against my kiss for a moment, but then her mouth softens and meets my passion with hers.
“Tell me you don’t want us to end,” I say with a lump in my throat. “Don’t leave me, baby.”
Kristina grabs at my shirt and tears it off me. Buttons fly everywhere and she sobs against my chest, “I hate the idea of losing you. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you.”
“Then why did you say we should take some time off?” I ask as I begin to undress her.
Shaking her head, she fumbles with my pants to get them off while I tug her jeans down her legs. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just thought maybe if we weren’t together that we wouldn’t get hurt.”
We’re caught up in this cycle of madness and need, and I know it’s spinning out of control. I don’t want to stop it, though. I can’t. The idea of my world without Kristina makes me break out in a cold sweat. I need her. I love her. And even though I know she’s hiding something, I don’t care.
All I care about is being inside her.
She wraps her arms around my neck, clinging to me as I push her back against the hallway wall. Open and needy for me, her body envelopes me as I thrust my cock deep into her cunt. We fuck with abandon like Kate and Sean, and as she whimpers my name over and over, I begin to feel like I’m flying.
> This is the high she gives me. The high I’m desperately addicted to. The high I can’t do without.
Panting as I take her toward her orgasm, she pleads in my ear, “Ian, promise you won’t ever let me go. Please promise.”
The fear in her eyes warns of some problem we’ll have to deal with eventually, but at that moment, I don’t care. I don’t care what she’s done. All I care about is having her in my life. I grip her hips tightly as the first sweet squeeze of her cunt on my cock tells me she’s just about there and answer in a groan, “I promise. I couldn’t live without you.”
She throws her head back as her release tears through her, and as she bucks wildly against me, I come with one last hard plunge into her, the two of us drenched in sweat and holding on to one another.
When her body ceases to tremble, she rests her head on my shoulder and says in barely a whisper, as if the words are too frightening to speak out loud, “I thought I could be without you. I was wrong. What are we going to do, Ian?”
I gently stroke her back. “There’s nothing to do. This is what we are.”
I’ve never said more truthful words than those. There is nothing the two of us can do. Maybe her therapist was right and she becomes addicted to people. I thought that was bullshit psychobabble, but I’m as addicted to Kristina as I am to how she makes me feel. I don’t know anymore. Nothing I’ve ever been addicted to ever felt like this.
* * *
A little more than a week later, the story of our love exploded and hit the New York Times bestseller list. Silk by T. Anderson, some unknown erotica writer who self-published the story Kristina inspired that first night as I watched her movies and fell for her, hit #5.
I stand in my kitchen after letting her in and casually announce the news. “Silk hit the Times list.”
Kristina’s face is the purest example of confusion as my news sinks in. “Do you mean our book?”
My smile stretches wide at that. “Yes. Number five.”
“Oh my God! Ian! That’s wonderful! How, though? You used a pen name no one knows.”