Play On
Page 35
I leaned in to brush my lips over his. “Love me in the knowledge that you’re the only man I’ll ever want like this.” I kissed him with all the fierce love and need I had inside me. My tongue danced with his in a deep, drugging kiss as we crushed tight against each other.
Aidan broke the kiss to follow a path down my throat with his mouth. I gasped for breath, my hips surging against his erection as he kissed his way down to my breasts. When he wrapped his lips around my nipple, I lost all control.
I pushed up on my knees, wrapped my hand around him and guided him to my entrance. I lowered down, and we panted as he slid inside me. The thickness of him took my breath away for a moment, and we both held still as my body eased into accepting him.
I sighed when I moved up on him slightly and back down, shivers exploding down my spine.
Aidan pulled my mouth back to his, kissing me with a hunger that seeped into me—I couldn’t get enough of him. I began to ride him. Slowly, savoring each deep tug of desire in the pit of my belly as I slid down on him and dragged up.
Our hot breaths mingled as sweat slickened our skin and our moans filled the bedroom. Our eyes locked on each other, never breaking the connection, as we undulated together, our movements growing steadily faster as we sought completion together.
What we both realized as our fingers bit into each other’s skin was that we already had it.
A connection no one could break.
“I love you,” I whimpered against his lips.
“I love you too.”
His words were a trigger, and my shout of release was swallowed in his kiss, followed quickly by his groan reverberating in mine as the pulsing clench of my climax around his cock wrenched his orgasm from him.
I collapsed in his arms, my face buried against his neck, and I felt his soft lips kiss my shoulder. He gently threaded his fingers through my hair to clasp my nape and brought my head back. I looked into the face I loved more than any other and wondered when I’d stop kicking myself for prolonging this moment.
“I was too long without you,” he said, sounding pained.
I brushed my fingers tenderly along his cheeks, still scratchy with bristle. “Never again,” I promised. “I’ve never been this happy.” It scared the hell out of me, but I wouldn’t run from it.
And I knew he was thinking the same thing.
Aidan Lennox and I never seemed to make sense on paper. He was older, worldlier, and more experienced.
Good thing I finally found the sense to rip that paper into little pieces that I then set alight.
Until it was nothing but dust floating in the wind.
Being only a child the last time I’d stood on stage, I’d forgotten how difficult it was to see the faces in the dark audience through the blaze of stage lights. It was impossible on a stage like the one at the Tollcross Theatre, and the realization startled me a little when I first stepped out during dress rehearsal.
I was prepared for it on opening night.
However, I wasn’t prepared for the colossal waves of nervousness in my gut or the way I’d needed Aidan more than I’d anticipated. Unfortunately, he was working on a studio album after he’d finalized the score for our show. We didn’t have an orchestra, just a sound guy who cued the digital music on a computer and sound system.
Since there was a piece of his creativity in the show, and the fact that it was my first performance, Aidan had promised to be there, but he couldn’t get away from the studio long enough to escort me to the play. He’d said he’d be in the audience.
I was disappointed but I understood. For the first few weeks of our reconciliation, he’d put so much of his work on hold to be with me. It wasn’t fair to pout now that he was getting back to the work he loved.
In the end, I pulled it together and forced myself onto that stage, with Jack murmuring jokes in my ear to calm me.
Before I knew it, the play was almost over, our words having disappeared into the dark of the audience even though it had been two and a half hours including a ten-minute intermission. The layers of cotton and leather I wore, resembling a mash-up of Mad Max meets steampunk, meant I was sweating under the stage lights. And I longed for Aidan to be there after my first real performance. But all these thoughts were tucked in the recesses of my mind so that Viola’s thoughts and feelings and actions could move me across the stage.
I was Viola kissing Duke Orsino, not Nora kissing Jack.
I was Viola taking Orsino’s hand as he asked to see me in my own clothes and not Cesario’s. I was Viola as I clung to his side and told him that my friend the Captain had my clothing but that he was in prison because of Malvolio.
And that was it.
That was my last line.
I almost couldn’t believe it.
Still, I continued to act, reacting to the words of my fellow players until finally Orsino said his last line and we, except for Clown, left the stage. Clown’s monologue drifted offstage as we quietly waited for him to bring the play to a close.
“‘But that’s all one, our play is done, and we’ll strive to please you every day.’”
Silence.
Then the uproarious applause that brought a huge grin to my face. I turned to find Quentin standing with us now, grinning back at me. He looked to us all. “Bravo, my miscreants. Bravo.”
I laughed, remembering the sound of the audience’s laughter throughout the performance. Of the little noises of surprise they made, their claps and cheers as the comedy progressed.
They liked us.
Jack grabbed my hand and led me back on stage where the flood of applause hit me like a wave crashing over my head. I was stunned until Jack bowed, and still holding my hand took me with him.
We’d rehearsed this part too.
Jane and Hamish stepped forward and bowed.
Then Jack and I to a thunder of clapping.
And so on as the other actors took their applause.
Quentin’s turn came. After he’d bowed, he stepped back, and we all bowed once more together as the curtain came down on us.
Excitement and chatter buzzed around me as my cast members congregated momentarily on stage. I wanted to cheer with them. I did.
However, more than anything, I wanted to celebrate this moment with my friends and family. Hugging my fellow players as briefly as possible, I managed to get off the stage without being rude and made my way to my dressing room where I’d told my loved ones to meet me afterward.
I was in the room but a moment, having wiped off as much stage makeup as possible much to the relief of my skin, when there was a knock. The door opened to reveal Seonaid’s head. “Can we come in?”
“Of course!”
“Ahhh!” she screamed, barging in and throwing herself into my arms. She danced and jiggled me around, laughing. Then she shoved me away playfully. “You didn’t tell me you were bloody awesome!”
I thought my face might break from grinning so hard. “Did you think so?” My eyes flew to Roddy and Angie … and my mother.
“Mom,” I whispered, tears in my eyes.
It still made me emotional that she flew all the way over to see me perform in an amateur production.
She strode forward and hugged me. “I’m so proud of you. You were amazing.” She pulled back and cupped my face in her hands. Concern pinched her features. “How on earth did you handle all this with your school exams too?”
It was such a motherly thing to say, I wanted to burst into tears. Who was this woman? Seriously! I laughed, hugging her again. “I can handle it,” I promised.
And I had.
It wasn’t only Aidan who’d been busy lately, what with my first-year exams only a few weeks ago. It hadn’t been easy to juggle studying, the play, and getting closer to the man I loved, but it all made me so endlessly happy …
Angie drew me into her arms as soon as my mom stepped back. “Ye were wonderful. I’m so proud of ye.”
My arms tightened around her. “Thank you, Angie.”
“Werenae bad?” I raised an eyebrow. “Faint praise indeed.”
“Well,” he hooked an arm around my neck and drew me into him with a grin, “wouldnae want ye gettin’ a big heid an flyin’ off tae Hollywood, no’ wid we?”
Giggling at his ridiculousness, I shook my head. “You thought I was good.”
“You were brilliant.” Seonaid shook her head in amazement, looking teary all of a sudden. “You really were.”
Feeling overwhelmed and emotional, I waved her off. “Stop, or I’ll cry.”
She shared a laugh with Angie, while my mom smiled and Roddy rolled his eyes.
And I realized we were all alone. I stiffened, feeling disappointment grow in my belly. “Where’s Aidan?”
A rap on the door sounded, and that horrible feeling fled as his head appeared around it. “He’s here, Pixie.” He smiled fondly, but he didn’t come into the room. “But, eh …,” his eyes flew to Seonaid, “would you mind giving us privacy?”
Something about the way he said it made Seonaid’s eyes widen, like he’d communicated something silently to her. Bemused, I watched as Aidan ducked back into the hallway and Seonaid ushered my mother, her own, and her boyfriend out of the room.
As she was leaving, she threw me a mischievous grin I did not understand at all.
Then the door opened again, and Aidan appeared. “You were magnificent, Pixie,” he said.
“You really think so?” I started walking toward him, needing to hold him.
But he stopped, and I realized he had something or someone tucked behind him. “And I’m not the only one who thought so.”
The someone stepped out from behind Aidan, and I felt my breath fly away.
She looked at me with cautious, hopeful eyes, her light blond hair longer than it used to be, braided in a fishtail down her left shoulder.
“Sylvie?” I whispered, disbelieving she was here.
Four weeks into our new relationship, Aidan had asked me to sit in his weekly Skype call with Sylvie. It had been strange and awkward at first because of the time that had passed, but over the weeks it felt like all three of us had never left each other.
As far as I’d been made aware, however, she wouldn’t be visiting Aidan until late June.
“I wanted to see you in the play,” Sylvie said.
And then like she’d done so easily before, she rushed forward and threw her arms around me. I immediately wrapped my arms around her, feeling a piece of me that I’d been missing slot back into place. With tears of gratitude, I looked up at Aidan, and he took us in with such love in his expression, I thought I would burst.
Finally, with the realization that Sylvie’s affection for me had never waned, I felt the last of the guilt I’d carried over the years of my young life detach from my soul and float far away. Without even meaning to, I’d blamed myself for not being able to stop Cal from taking her that day.
Now I knew better.
It was easy, when you loved people, to find ways to blame yourself when you couldn’t protect them from the hurts of the world. That was an impossible task, and we only ended up hurting ourselves by believing that it wasn’t.
The only thing that was in our power was to love through the hard times, to hold onto that love, and not allow blame and guilt to blister it.
I had all the love I needed in that theater building, and I swore to myself as Aidan approached us and wrapped his big arms around Sylvie and me that I would protect our love with my body and soul. More importantly, I’d forgive myself on the days when the rain came out of nowhere and soaked us to our skin. We’d have those days.
Everyone had those days.
But with Aidan, I could find the laughter in those days, as well hidden as it may be, and I could strip off my dress and seduce the sadness out of him. Our passion wouldn’t ever be a solution, but it would be a constant reminder that the hard days were worth getting through to keep safe what we shared.
It was a well-known fact that the Scottish used humor and lightness to get through difficult times. To play on, to laugh on, and to dream on, even on the days they felt abandoned by hope. I understood that now. I got it. I respected it.
This place … well, it fit me.
Indiana and my mother would always have a piece of me.
But this place … these people … this man …
They fit beautifully.
It has been a long, very busy year in writing for me, and I would not have had so much time in my writing cave if it wasn’t for the support of the people around me. First I’d like to thank my parents for dogsitting on more than a few occasions so I could disappear fully into the writing cave to write Aidan and Nora’s story. And a ginormous thank you to my dad for doing more than a few odd jobs around my house because I was too busy to. Everyone should have a dad like mine.
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Moreover, I’d like to thank the rest of my friends and family for being so patient with my absence these last few months while I wrote and wrote… and wrote some more.
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A massive thank you to my personal assistant Ashleen Walker for taking care of so many other things so I could concentrate on the writing part, and for organizing promos and tours and generally being a freaking rock star. I’m lucky to have my best friend work with me, and even luckier that you’re so great at everything you put your mind to.
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I must thank my incredibly smart and hilarious editor Jenn Young for editing PLAY ON on a tight schedule and for being so insightful, witty and encouraging. It can be a nerve-wracking business this writing malarkey and you helped soothe some of those nerves, my friend.
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Also a thank you to Amy Donnelly at Alchemy and Words for jumping on board last minute to proofread and catch all the little things missed in the first few rounds of editing. I’m so grateful!
Oh and any errors in the acknowledgments are entirely my fault.
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And thank you to Jeff at Indie Formatting Services for always doing such a spectacular job making my books look stylish and professional in ebook and print.
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The cover for PLAY ON was designed by the tremendously talented Hang Le. Hang, you blew me away with your cover concepts. This cover is stunning and more than I imagined it could be. Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you!
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The cover, blurb and the story found their way into readers’ hands with the help of fantastic book bloggers. I want to thank everyone who has supported the release of PLAY ON and given their time so generously to the book world. There aren’t enough thank yous for what you do, but just know that I appreciate every single one of you.
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These acknowledgments are never complete without thanking my agent extraordinaire Lauren Abramo. Thank you, Lauren, for working so passionately to make sure the stories I write get to travel the world. I have the best agent. EVER.
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And finally the biggest thank you of all is to you: my reader.
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Thank you forever and always for reading.
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I hope you enjoyed Aidan and Nora’s love story.
Joss and Braden Carmichael are blissfully married living in their townhouse on Dublin Street with their three beautiful children. It's a life Joss never expected to have, and one she's grateful for every day.
But... what if she never met Braden and Ellie Carmichael on that fateful day when she was only twenty-two years old?
* * *
When Joss is asked to write a story about how her life might have turned out if a pivotal moment in it never happened, she thinks of the day she met both Braden and Ellie Carmichael. If she had never met them where might she have ended up? Joss believes no matter where life may have taken her it would have inevitably led her to Braden. But what if she was thirty instead of twenty-two wh
en they met? How would she have felt about risking her heart then?
And even if she was older and wiser and ready to fall madly in love, what if too much had happened to Braden to make him the man that would risk his heart to save hers?
Will time be their enemy... or is it possible that two souls are meant for one another in any reality?
* * *
Stars Over Castle Hill is an alternative reality novella of the #1 international bestselling romance On Dublin Street, a story that captured the hearts of readers all over the world. Joss and Braden are back with a tale that is just as emotional, passionate and sexy as their first!
* * *
Continue on to read the first two chapters…
Usually when I finished a book I felt a level of apprehension before sending it to my agent and editor. That was natural, I guessed. But as I watched my printer whipping out the novella I’d spent the last month writing, I had to admit that what I was feeling was a different kind of apprehension.
This was the first time I wanted Braden to read one of my stories before anyone else. Even before beta readers.
It was mostly due to the personal nature of the story.
“Mum!”
I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing my twelve-year-old daughter was about to bust into my office, even though my “Crabbit Writer at Work” sign was on the door. Everyone in our family knew I only put the sign up when I was in the zone and really didn’t need interruptions creating havoc with the flow of words.
Braden bought me the sign. After eighteen years in Scotland, I knew that crabbit meant “grumpy as hell.”