Had Paul left, too? Blinked out with the rest of the stuff?
Technically, she’d ordered him the day she’d ordered Sir Kendall and Hyko. But not really. And he was from her world. He was real.
And she loved him.
He couldn’t be gone. She wouldn’t allow it. She got back up and hop-ran all the way around the house to the front. His monster truck was still there. But of course it would be—it wasn’t due to blink out for two days.
She burst up the porch, panting, feeling so wild. And just before she reached it, the front door opened. There he was, standing inside the door.
Paul.
He was free of all the ropes and bindings. Even the poison muscle immobilization whatever was out of him—she could tell from his clear, beautiful eyes. And he was still in his boxers.
“Oh, god, Paul.” She barreled right in, unable to contain her need for him.
“You’re okay.”
“Yes, it’s all okay.” She wrapped her arms around him, pressed him to the wall, right next to the coat hooks, and kissed him. She never wanted to let him go. She loved this man! What had she been thinking, that she had to give him up? That’s what a loser did.
“Alix. You feel so good.” He pulled her to him, kissing her back, the hungry kind of kiss that was so quintessentially Paul. He closed her hair in his fist.
She pulled away. “Sir Kendall! Is he okay?”
“He made it,” Paul said, pulling her back, kissing her more.
Again she pulled away. “Hyko will never read the blue paper. But he escaped from the ropes.” Breathlessly, she told Paul what had happened. “I didn’t want to kill him, but I needed to stop him, and he seemed so unstoppable.”
“They have amazing doctors over there,” Paul said. “I bet they save him. And you know what? It means you put them on equal footing. Think about it—they both blinked back totally messed up. They’ll keep doing what they do over there. They’ll live out their lives in their spy versus criminal thing. Without the code, thanks to you.” He smiled. “You did it. I can’t believe how amazing you are. I knew you’d come through.”
Happiness shivered through her. He’s known she’d come through. And deep down, she’d known, too. She was enough. She’d just had to fix her mind to it. “I couldn’t let him win.”
“You fight for the people you care about.”
“And the people I love,” she said.
A smile spread across his beautiful, beaten-up face, the face that would take weeks to heal.
Because he was real.
The look he gave her now heated her belly. And suddenly she felt nervous. Here she was with this man whom she’d dreamed about for so long. They were alone, and there was nothing separating them now. She’d always been good at doing big, bold things, but she’d never had this, a man who loved her, a man she loved back. And now she was in this new responsible mode. She needed to not mess this up.
He came to her.
“Wait.” She put her hands on his chest, bracelets jingling. “There’re some last things we need to do.”
“What?”
“Come on.” She turned and limped away from him, up the stairs.
“What happened to your foot?”
“Just my toe,” she said. “Come on.” She led Paul into her room. Her laptop lay on the floor where Hyko had dropped it, screen still lit. She grabbed the sledgehammer and smashed it, again and again, pulverizing it. “Now it for sure won’t work.” She turned to him. “The basement. We have to finish destroying all the computers. Nobody else can ever get hold of that code.”
He went to her, touched her cheek. “Right now?” He drew his hand down her neck, breath ragged.
She closed her eyes, softening to his heat, his nearness. “I have to be responsible about this whole thing.” Didn’t he get it? “We destroy the computers once and for all.”
He gave her a look. “Okay, Alix.”
Together they went down to the basement.
“Let me,” he said when the got down there. “You sit.”
She handed him the sledgehammer and sat on the couch. He went at the equipment, smashing the old machines, muscles shiny and glowy in the dim light. Things sparked and smoked. Metal panels crashed onto the floor. The table with the monitors and the pizza box went over.
When he finished, he turned to her, all sweaty and hot. She shook her head and pointed to a still intact panel.
He swung the sledgehammer at it. Sparks flew.
He turned back to her. “It’s done.”
She pointed to another one of the machines. He rolled his eyes and smashed it into even more pieces—smash-smash-smash—reducing it to debris and wires. Sweat glistened on his back and darkened the band of his boxers. He looked madly sexy, smashing things.
He turned back to her. “Now?’
She smiled and pointed at the fan in the wall. But it was a little bit of a joke.
He threw the sledgehammer aside and went to her, pulled her up with sweaty, calloused hands. He seemed to be shaking, vibrating with energy.
Her heart raced.
“What is it, Alix? Tell me what you want.” He kissed her forehead, breath warm on her nose.
It had never been real before. But how to say that?
“Tell me what you want.”
“You—I want you,” she whispered. Such a simple answer, a simple word, but it was a big, true thing that she wanted him—not as an emotional Band-aid or solace or takeout—she just wanted him. She felt naked saying that.
Paul seemed to still, and his eyes shone, as though what she’d said had moved him greatly, and then he kissed her tenderly. She wanted to give him everything.
The air whooshed out of her as he pushed her against the wall and covered her with a passionate kiss. She dug her fingernails into his sweaty shoulders, drinking in his heaviness, loving the feel of him mashing into her, dominating her.
She felt so open to him, as though she was giving him something she’d never given anybody before: herself.
His cock pressed against the V of her legs, through seemingly endless layers of fabric. She soaked up his heat, enjoying the rough slide of his whiskers on her cheek. She pressed her hands to his shoulders, exploring the lush curves of his muscles.
He tugged at her top. “Off,” he said.
She pulled off her top. With shaking hands, she undid her jeans, bracelets jingling. He came to her, to kiss her and cover her as she did it, but she pushed him away.
“Let me.” She’d always hidden—behind jokes, behind the chaotic frenzy that was her life, behind the pawing of male hands. She wouldn’t hide from Paul. She wanted him to see her, to actually see her. She would rise to meet him. And just like that, she was naked in every way.
He came to her, looked into her eyes, and brushed back her hair. “You are beautiful and perfect, don’t you know?”
“Paul—”
“I see you. And I love you, Alix. I love you.” He slanted his lips over hers and slid his hands up her arms, not covering her, just touching her.
But then he pulled back and gave her a stern look. His cock strained under the fabric of his boxers. “Though there is a problem here, actually.”
“What?”
He lowered his eyes to her wrist.
“What?”
He said nothing, simply moved to the side and pointed to the table, stabbing his finger into the tabletop.
The bracelets? Her pulse raced. The bracelets?
“Now,” he said raggedly, seeming to vibrate with need. It was so crazy, how that one command made everything easy and crazy and fun again. She’d felt frightened to be responsible for everything, like she was alone in it. But here was Paul. They got each other. They loved each other. She wasn’t alone.
She schooled her features, but really, she felt like smiling a thousand smiles. She went over, pulled them off, and smashed the bracelets onto the little table.
“God, I love you,” he said.
She grinned wide. “I love you, to
o, Hardass Paul.”
He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back against the wall, kissing her, then kissing handfuls of her hair, and then kissing her cheek. “I love your hair, and your outfits, and the way you look when you’re about to laugh, and your earlobe, too.” He took her earlobe into his mouth and sucked. Plain old happiness thrummed through her as she pushed her fingers down his slick spine and under the elastic band of his boxers. “And your fierceness and loyalty. And how hot you are.” He pressed a hand between her legs and cupped her there, sending undulations of pleasure clear though her.
“Oh, yeah,” she whispered.
“And I would do anything for a condom right now.”
She spoke into the kiss. “Maybe there’s one here. Maybe in my shorts pocket.”
He smiled. His expression seemed softer to her now. Debonair, like Sir Kendall’s. He bent over and picked up her shorts and handed them to her. She rooted in the pocket and whipped out the condom.
“Awesome,” he said. “Open it.” He fell to his knees and nudged apart her thighs. “Wider,” he panted. Heat bloomed between her legs as she slid her foot out. He licked her tender sex, invading her, dragging her awareness forward with every hot stroke. She felt like she might break apart right there. She’d never wanted somebody so badly in her life.
She found she could barely work her fingers to open the little packet. Was he purposely overwhelming her? She closed her eyes, lolling in the bliss.
He began to kiss upward, reaching her belly “Did you not have a task?” he whispered.
Right. She finally liberated the condom from the crinkly packet. He stood and took it from her and put it on. Before she could so much as catch her breath, he had her pressed up against the wall with the full force of his body. She touched him everywhere. She’d never felt so ravished, so loved, so enclosed. He grabbed her knee and lifted it, pressed close to her.
“Yes,” she said. Yes to everything.
He looked into her eyes as he entered her. The honesty was so crazy, letting him see her as he took her. She’d never allowed it before. Really, it was like she’d never had sex before.
He drew out and thrust back in, harder, pressing her against the rough concrete wall, pushing her into a kind of oblivion.
She ground her hips against his.
“I dreamed about this,” he said, pushing aside her hair, exposing her throat, kissing her madly as he fucked her. “I dreamed about it.”
So had she. But the real thing was so much better.
EPILOGUE: THREE MONTHS LATER
The Christmas lights around Alix’s living room blurred as the tears came. She stood behind the couch, glad nobody could see her face go all red and twisty with emotion. She’d seen the clip of Paul’s win against Bearbaum so many times—hell, she’d been there in person. But it still choked her up, the way he’d overcome his past and transformed a source of weakness to one of strength.
She worried about Sir Kendall, too, having gone back to wherever he came from. Would he be happy there, having experienced their world? Or would he feel relieved to be home? She hoped they hadn’t done him any harm. Paul told her that he felt sure Sir Kendall had gone back stronger, somehow.
In one week there would be real guests at her bed and breakfast. She’d even changed her hair back to platinum blonde, slightly more conservative than the pink. It seemed more proper for the hostess of Veronica’s. This weekend, however, was her trial run with some of her favorite people in the world—Paul, Karen, her sisters, and her parents, plus Tonio and Vera from the motel, too. They were playing the clip from Paul’s comeback fight for her parents. They had actually asked to see it.
Paul had objected, but now he was excitedly answering their questions about the various moves and counters—pointing out when Bearbaum had tagged him in the jaw, the takedown. “Getting inside, that’s the hard part,” he said. “And there he goes. Here he tries for a leg.” There was still something different about his face; the hard look had softened. Like a tiny bit of dashing Sir Kendall had seeped up to the surface.
Karen came around to the back of the couch and hooked an arm through Alix’s. “A man your folks approve of,” she whispered. “And that dinner you made. And the place is actually ready on time. What the hell have you done with my Alix?”
Alix snorted, watching Lindy gnaw away on a bone in the corner. “You thought I wouldn’t have it ready in time. Shows what you know.”
“You didn’t think you’d have it ready, either.”
Alix shrugged. “There’s that.”
On that summer day, after Sir Kendall and Hyko had disappeared, after she and Paul had sex twice and ate a luxurious meal, Paul showed her where Sir Kendall hid the magic book. Together they burned it in the fireplace. The last of the magic code. She figured it’s what Aunt Veronica would’ve wanted. Well, it’s what she wanted. She didn’t need a string of goodies to magically appear on her doorstep.
Cheers from the TV. The fight was over.
Paul’s speech now. They’d just given Paul the belt.
“Oh, man,” Alix whispered.
Karen squeezed her.
Up on the screen, camera bulbs flashed and microphones were shoved in Paul’s face. Coach Walton mopped Paul’s forehead as Paul spoke. “I just want to thank my fiance, Alix, the woman I love, who showed me what I’m really fighting for. And the brother of my heart, Sir Kendall, who’s out there somewhere fighting the good fight. And Coach Walton, for giving me another chance...” He thanked more people, and then Alix again.
Tonio caught her eye. “And there it is, the sappiest post-fight thanks ever uttered in the ring.”
Alix’s mother turned back to Alix. “I thought it was very touching and heartfelt.” Her father and her sisters just smiled. Oh, everybody loved Paul.
But none so much as Alix.
Paul stood. “We have dessert. And decaf is brewing.”
“I can get it,” Alix said.
“Let me help you.” Paul went with her to the kitchen.
“They loved seeing that fight,” she said to him.
He was working on cutting the pie. “Quick, get the coffee.”
“Are you rushing this evening along? Are you rushing the dessert course?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m rushing the dessert course. I want you all to myself.”
She snorted. “What would Hardass Paul say about that?”
He turned and smiled. Playfully, she held up her hands. He came to her and pressed his palms to hers, then curled his fingers gently around her fingers, kissing her pink fingernails on one hand, and then her pink fingernails on her other, making her bracelets jingle like crazy.
~ The End ~
Thank you for reading!
Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed Mr. Real. If you want to learn about new book releases and freebies, please feel free to hop on my newsletter list.
Acknowlegments
This book has benefited from the kindness of many generous and talented helpers along the way. My wonderful critique partner, Joanna Chambers, read the manuscript a crazy number of times and gave me insight and excellent ideas. Cameron McClure, the best agent and creative ally a writer could ever hope for, offered incredible support and smarts. And thank you also to early fabulous reader L.B. Gregg, as well as Holly Mercer. And to my wonderful writing group: Elizabeth Andrew, Marcia Peck, and Terri Whitman, who always challenge me to be better. I’m also grateful to critiquer extraordinaire Jeffe Kennedy for late-draft insights. Also, thanks to Jeffe, Laura Bickle, Marcella Burnard, and Katie Reus for being there with wisdom and wonderfulness. Editor Robin Harders helped push the book to the next level. Sharon Muha provided helpful computer insights and proofreading, Brenda’s Eclectic Editing also provided proofreading, plus countless fine edits. Guido Henkel created the formatting guide I’d perish without. And hugs to my twitter pals, who are always there to answer questions about everything from boy bands to cotton candy. I’m thankful also to my many friends who answ
ered random questions and patiently gave opinions on never-ending cover dilemmas. Also, kisses to Nicole Peeler and Gini Koch as well as Laura and Jeffe for the blurbing. I’m grateful also to Carolyn Jewel, and Shiloh Walker for many small kindnesses, and to Moira Rogers, a.k.a. Bree and Donna, for their generous guidance through all this madness. And finally, thanks to my husband. Mark, a brilliant writer and critiquer and brainstormer, and the best partner in crime and life and creativity a girl could ask for.
About the Author
Carolyn Crane is the author of the Disillusionists trilogy, a work of urban fantasy, and assorted novellas. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband and two cats, and works a day job as a freelance writer. She has waited tables at a startling number of restaurants, and if you invite her to your party, your cheese plate will be in grave danger. During rare moments when she’s not at her computer, she can be found reading in bed, running, or helping animals.
I love hearing from readers. Visit me at www.authorcarolyncrane.com
Come tweet with me: https://twitter.com/#!/CarolynCrane
Let's talk books at Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3084517.Carolyn_Crane
And/or let’s friend: https://www.facebook.com/carolyn.crane2
Also by Carolyn Crane
Mind Games (Book #1 of the Disillusionists)
Double Cross (Book #2 of the Disillusionists)
Head Rush (Book #3 of the Disillusionists)
Kitten-tiger and the Monk, a Disillusionists novella (2.5) in Wild & Steamy, an anthology of novellas
Devil’s Luck, a stand-alone Disillusionists novella (3.5)
Coming up:
The Mr. Real prequel novella in Fire & Frost, an anthology (early 2013)
Friar Jack (Code of Shadows: #2)
Derangerous (Code of Shadows: #3)
DEVIL’S LUCK: excerpt of Chapter One
Fawna Brady stood at the front of the crowded sideshow tent, watching breathlessly as the Great Bertolt turned his face upward toward the flaming knife he held in his hands. He opened his mouth—like a baby bird waiting for food, she thought—and then he plunged it straight down into his throat. Just the hilt was sticking out of his mouth.
Mr. Real Page 33