by Kate Tilney
Though I’ve always wished my belly was a little flatter or my thighs less round, the way Rhett’s firm hands rove over every inch of my body like I’m a radiant goddess makes me feel more beautiful than any model on a runway.
When I feel the the first pull of a pleasure tugging at my belly, I scream his name as it takes hold of my body, shattering me. I’d crumble to the ground if he didn’t have me pressed against the wall.
I need more. All of it.
Desperate for my chance at him, I push away. Before he can reach for me, I tug at his jeans, pulling them to the ground along with his boxers.
“Do you remember that scene in Darkness Becomes the Lord?” he whispers against my ear.
Visions of my heroine pressed against a wall as the hero takes her flood my head. “It’s one of my favorite scenes.”
“Ever tried it for real?”
My body tingles all over again at what he’s suggesting.
“As it happens I haven’t. How about we change that?”
“With pleasure.” He presses his forehead against mine. “I need to grab a condom.”
I grab his arm before he can leave.
“I’m on the pill. And I was tested last month. Clean bill.”
“Clean here too.”
Then, without saying another word, he grabs the back of my thighs and pulls my legs up to his waist. I wrap around him. I’m back against the wall as his thick, hard cock presses against my aching core. Shoving my panties aside again, he thrusts into me. My eyes flutter shut as I grip onto his shoulders. He moves inside of me, faster and faster, stroke after stroke. The sensation builds in my belly again as I feel him, all of him, moving inside of me. It grows and grows until I feel his backside tense against my legs. I come, hard, taking us both over the edge.
With a loud groan, he shoves into me once more.
I let out a shudder of my own. My breath coming quickly as I try to steady myself.
“That,” I say catching a breath at last, “was better than anything I could have written.”
“We’ll have to see if our next re-enactment lives up to the first.”
I’m still giggling when he pulls out of me and carries me to the bed.
Chapter Five
Rhett
I brush a kiss over Emmy’s bare shoulder. Her eyes flutter open and a sleepy smile spreads across her face.
“Morning, handsome.”
My lips move to the curve of her neck, nibbling the sweet spot below her ear that makes her giggle. Even though we reenacted at least half a dozen scenes from her books last night, I wake up hard and aching to take her again. Her hand slides down my back, and my muscles come alive under her fingers.
My mouth trails down her chest, capturing one of her pert nipples in my mouth. Her back arches and I cup her breast in my hand, massaging it with my fingers. She moans and her hands move up to grip my shoulder, urging me on. I’ve never tasted anyone so sweet, so intoxicating. The more I have of her, the more I want.
Pulling away, I flop onto my back. Emmy bolts up and stares down at me, clearly aroused and wanting more.
I fight a grin. “I have an idea for your new book.”
Here yes widen. “And you want to discuss it Now?”
“It’s for a scene. Maybe something between your hero and heroine. In the bedroom.”
Awareness spreads across her face right now. “Are you offering a demonstration?”
My hand trails down the curve of her body, my dick throbs. “I don’t have your way with words. It would really be easier just to show you.”
Reaching for her hand, I pull her on top so she’s straddling me. When she eases back so her lush ass rubs against my cock, I grab her thighs.
“Not that way.”
Before she can ask, I push her forward until she’s sitting on my face. Her slit inches from my mouth. She grabs hold of the headboard I carved with my own hands. I let out a moan.
Digging my fingers into her thighs, I slide my tongue up her inner thigh, the whiskers of my beard scratch against the smooth skin. She groans again from deep in her belly. I’d like to stretch this out longer, but I have to taste her again. I bring her to my mouth then, sliding my tongue through her folds until I find the sensitive numb. I tease it with my tongue before capturing it in my mouth.
She rides my mouth as I feast on her. I grow even harder with her taste in my mouth. Her body tenses. I glance up as she arches her back and calls my name, giving herself over to the pleasure. I could watch her come forever. I want to be the man who makes her come forever.
The overwhelming need to do just that shakes me. But I don’t give myself time to dwell on that. Just like I don’t give her time to recover.
With her hands still holding onto the bed frame, I move out from under her. Kneeling behind her, I grip onto her hair. The curls tickle my rough palm. I push the hair aside to kiss her neck again as I enter her from behind. She gasps as I ease into her slowly, filling her all the way. She wiggles her backside against me and my control breaks. I ram into her over and over. With every thrust, my heart beats louder in my ears. I can’t get enough. Never enough.
Once we’ve both found fulfillment again, we slide back down to the bed. She’s asleep a moment later giving me ample time to study her.
She really is gorgeous. But she’s more than her looks. Much more. She’s smart, sassy, and has more talent in that imagination of hers than anyone else I’ve ever known. My heart swells. I know I shouldn’t, but I can already feel myself falling for her. I don’t know where this can go, but surely if she feels the same, we can work out something. Can’t we?
I’m thinking about how to bring up the subject when I get up to take a leak. On my way to the bathroom, I hear the rumble of a truck pulling up outside the cabin. Who could be here this early? Tugging on my jeans and t-shirt, I step outside, closing the door behind me so I won’t wake Emmy.
My mother waves from the truck, flashing me a cheerful smile. I step forward to help her down. “I was headed up to the outpost for the day, and I thought I’d stop by to drop these off.”
Before I can ask what she’s dropping off, she reaches back into the truck and pulls out an oversized bouquet. There have to be at least a hundred flowers in it.
I groan. “Mom, you have to stop with the gifts. You’ll embarrass her.”
“They’re not from me.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Apparently the authoress has an admirer back home.”
My stomach twists. I try to keep my tone as light as possible, but my words are clipped. “What do you mean?”
“They were sent by someone back east. Took me half the day to follow the directions on the box.” She holds up a card. “It says, ‘Emmy, you magnificent woman. Be prepared for me to rock your world when you get back to civilization. Love and miss you. Byron.’”
I take a staggering step back before I stop myself. No. That can’t be possible. I reach for the card to read it for myself. There it is, exactly as my mother said.
Emmy has someone back home. Someone who loves her and wants to rock her world. Which makes me the other man. Bile rises in my throat even as my heart splits in two. Fury wars with disbelief and pain. My head spins. I feel like I might fall over if I don’t grab hold of something fast.
My mom’s brow furrows. “Is everything okay? You don’t look so good.”
I shake my head. “Something I had last night isn’t agreeing me.”
“Maybe a little time outdoors would do you good.” She gestures to the truck. “It’s a beautiful day, and I wouldn’t mind the company.”
I’m not sure a day of fishing or birdwatching will do much to cure betrayal. But I do need to get as far away from Emmy before I say or do something that won’t make me feel any better either.
I clear my throat. “Just let me get rid of these and grab my shoes. A day outside would be good.”
Emmy
Though I’m a little disappointed to wake up and find Rhett gone, I take advantage of his absenc
e. Wearing only his flannel shirt from last night, I pull out my laptop and write in the crumpled up sheets.
A few hours later I finish another writing session and lift my arms over my head to stretch. There’s nothing like a night—and morning after—of mind-blowing sex to get the creative juices flowing. And the writing tip and demonstration Rhett gave me this morning turned out to be more helpful than he could have imagined. Now my characters are every bit as satiated as I am.
At this rate, I’ll be done with this first draft in another day or two.
But I need a break. I send another email off to Byron then pull myself out of bed. I ate a muffin an hour ago and I’ve had more coffee this morning than anyone rightfully should. Glancing out the window, I notice the shining sun. I know better than to go wandering off into the wilderness alone, but it surely wouldn’t hurt to take a stroll around the cabin and outbuilding.
Maybe I’ll even find a certain hero and ask if the offer to show me around still stands.
Tugging on my leggings, I open the door and nearly stumble over a floral arrangement.
“Oh!” I gasp in delight.
Is this where Rhett went to this morning? The thought warms my heart and has those butterflies in my stomach flapping their wings at full speed. I reach for the note sticking out of the arrangement and the butterflies stop.
They’re from Byron. Normally that would give me a little thrill. It really is lovely. I just liked the idea of Rhett thinking of me.
I pick up the arrangement and a piece of notebook paper under it goes fluttering away in the breeze. Setting the flowers back down, I give chase and reach the paper when it hits the trunk of a tree.
My eyes go to the signature—Rhett. So he was thinking of me.
The butterflies are back until . . .
I’ll be gone the next few days. Can’t be reached by phone. My mom will take you to the airport and get you anything you need. Enjoy the rest of your stay. Rhett.
I re-read the message three more times until it sinks in. Rhett went away. Without saying good-bye. He doesn’t even say it here in the note. A sob catches in my throat.
I thought we had a real connection. Did what happened between us mean that little to him? A tear slips from my eye and splashes onto the page, smudging the ink.
Maybe I was so desperate to find a hero for my story, I imagined Rhett to be something he wasn’t. Another tear falls. No. That’s not it. He was everything I believed him to be. Until now. Something must have happened or changed since this morning. But I’ll never get a chance to ask him.
If I was going to write how much my heart aches into a book . . . I wouldn’t know where to start. I no longer have the words.
Chapter Six
Rhett
As predicted, a few days at my mom’s outpost doesn’t do much to ease my anger. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to get caught up with another unfeeling city girl who was only using me for one thing. Actually, in Emmy’s case it wasn’t just sex. She was using me as content for her next book.
She’d been pretty convincing with her talk of love being beautiful and powerful. But those were just meaningless words. Strung together by a woman who makes her living peddling love to fools like me.
The problem is, I knew better. But apparently being burned before didn’t stop me from playing with fire again.
After I told my mom the whole of it, she agreed to be Emmy’s point of contact for the rest of her stay. It may have been a coward’s way out, but I couldn’t go back and face her. I couldn’t handle her excuses.
I’m sitting at the fishing hole, paying little attention to my line, when I hear the rumbles of my mother’s truck approaching. That can mean only one thing. Emmy is gone. Dropped off at the airport and on her way back to civilization so that Byron guy can rock her world.
My mom jumps down from her truck and comes to sit by me on the rock.
“The cabin is tidied up, and she’s on her way.”
I grunt in response.
“I think she was disappointed you didn’t come to see her off.”
I turn and gape at my mother. “Seriously?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I had the distinct impression that you’re not the only one with a broken heart.”
I snort. “She has a boyfriend.”
“Actually, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“You saw the flowers and the card.”
“That I did.” My mom shakes her head. “They were from her agent. A nice older gentleman in New York City who is happily married to an investment broker.”
Her words slice through me. “You mean . . .”
“She wasn’t cheating on anyone—you or a man back home. Apparently you inspired her to write a damn spectacular story that already has her publisher buzzing about an expanded release.”
“Which would rock her world.” My heart clutches, and the old familiar anger returns. Only this time I’m not mad at Emmy. I’m furious with myself. “I didn’t even give her a chance to explain.”
“No you didn’t.” My mom pushes herself to her feet, wiping dirt from her hands. “Now, I know you don’t need your mama meddling in your affairs, but it’s clear to me you’re crazy about the girl. And she’s crazy about you too.”
“But I screwed up.” Royally.
“So you’ll just have to do something to make her see how sorry you are.” She grins down at me. “I believe in romance novels, they call it the grand gesture.”
If I have any hope of getting Emmy back, I’m going to have to make it grand as hell. Luckily for me, the woman who’s captured my heart has written plenty on the subject of love conquering all and forgiveness. I’ll have to hope she believes in both.
Chapter Seven
Emmy
I stare out the window of the airplane as the rest of the passengers disembark. If I was going to write this moment into a book . . . I wouldn’t. No one would care about the pity party I’ve been throwing for myself the past week.
The last few days in Montana passed in a blur of tears and self doubt. Which is how I ended up spilling my guts to Rhett’s mom in a really uncool moment before I boarded the plane for home.
I spent the next few days curled up on my couch watching old movies, including Gone With the Wind. I apparently have a masochistic streak. I did discover one thing during the re-watch. Rhett was right about his namesake. He really was kind of a tool.
I even ignored my emails and text messages, until I received an edible arrangement at my door with a note from Byron. He said I’d better get my butt on a plane to New York City for a meeting with the publishers.
I don’t particularly want to spend the next few days listening to people talk about the book I wrote while falling in love with Rhett. I’m especially not looking forward to telling them I don’t know how I’ll finish the last couple of chapters. I’m not sure they’ll accept heartbreak as a reason for failing to fulfill my contract.
At least this trip away is a break from the norm.
When I’m the last person on the plane, I grab my luggage and make my way through the airport. I’m nearly to the doors to the curbside pick-up when I hear my name over the intercom. I pause as the message repeats.
“Would Emmy MacLachlan please report to the customer service desk near ground transit?”
Maybe Byron sent the driver there. Or maybe he came for himself. Which means I won’t even get to ride into the city without making small talk. I reach the desk and am about to step in line when I spy Byron’s smiling face.
My heart sinks, but I plaster some sort of a smile on my face as I turn toward him. It’s then I realize he’s holding a rose. He presses a kiss to my cheek and says, “Listen closely.”
I blink in confusion, but soon I’m surrounded by more people holding red roses. Most of them are strangers, but among them I catch a couple of faces I know. My mom and dad. My editor. My roommate from college. Debbie Franklin. My eyes fly back to her, and my heart stops.
Someone t
aps on my shoulder, and I clench my eyes shut, because I know who it is. A wave of joy mixed with sadness rushes over me. I take a deep breath and turn.
There he is, his dark hair and beard freshly trimmed, wearing a suit and jacket that grip to his broad shoulders and arms.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice gruff with emotion. “I know that’s not enough. I know I owe you more explanations, and you’ll get them. But basically I was a tool. Just like the other Rhett.”
My lips curve up at that even as I blink back tears.
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” His hand reaches up to cup my cheek. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know and more. I jumped to a wrong conclusion. I let my past get in the way of what’s happening between us. I was . . . scared. Like I said, I was a tool. And I’m sorry. If you’ll give me another chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to live up to the heroes in your books. Because I love you.”
His words fill me with hope, edging out the pain that’s gripped me for so long.
I shake my head. I still don’t understand what’s happening. Still, he says he loves me. And I believe him.
“I love you too.”
“Are you willing to give me another chance?”
I nod, blinking as tears fill my eyes again. One slips down my cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb.
“I’m sure you could’ve written a better grand gesture. But I’ll get better at it.”
I shake my head. “This is better than anything I could have written.”
“I doubt that.”
“But it is,” I insist. “Because those are just stories. This is real. That’s better than any fantasy.”
“Emmy.” My name is a whisper before his lips meet mine. Around us, our friends, family, and strangers erupt in cheers.
We still have a lot to discuss. But we can get to that later. Right now we’re just beginning our happily ever after. We can make that into whatever we want. Together.
