Her Real-Life Hero

by Vicki Ballante

  She rounded to him. “How do you know a single woman doesn’t enjoy romance?”

  “It reminds them of what they don’t have.”

  “Why do I write romance then?” She tilted her head. “How many of the romance authors published at Colridge are single?”

  After getting the wine glasses, he sauntered past her. “Colridge doesn’t publish many romances.”

  “So, you don’t know much about writing romance?” She narrowed her eyes at him. He’d been loading on the advice.

  “I have done some freelance editing for romance writers. I still do some from time to time.”

  “Well, then?”

  They sat down to eat in the living room. She kept a decent space from Theo for elbow room and to process him entering every facet of her life. Meeting her sexual needs had been hard enough to deal with, but he’d encroached on a territory she had no desire to share with anyone—her secret imaginary world, her soppy, emotional side.

  “You still haven’t told me whether you have any single romance writers.”

  “A couple. Most of them are in a permanent or serious relationship. I had noticed you have a huge collection of romance novels.” He smiled at her. “So, I figured a movie to match your preference would make you happy.”

  She cringed. It better not be anything touching.

  “Well, let’s get it over with.” She sighed, took the DVD out of its case, and placed it in her machine.

  The food soon polished off, Theo snuggled close to her as the movie buried deep into the lives of a couple whose relationship had everything pitched against it. Joanie wanted to get away from him, so he didn’t see her struggle to keep tears at bay. Scooting to the other end of the couch would make her strange responses more conspicuous. Besides, he couldn’t see her face at that close angle so she was stuck with him.

  Plus, he did fit her like a glove. He proved to be great snuggling material, and the tingles in her hand while he clasped it made her rather awestruck. They’d already had sex. She’d had two orgasms. Why was she all needy for his touch again?

  The dark moment in the movie arrived, and Joanie trembled with the force of holding back the tears. Theo clung to her hand. She was trapped, spiraling toward total breakdown. He’ll despise me. I won’t be a strong, capable, independent woman in his eyes anymore. He’ll find my vulnerable spots.

  Tears streamed down her face, and she began to hiccup. Theo didn’t move. He clung to her as if he’d known her for years and was aware she’d be a wreck watching movies.

  The hero decided to leave the heroine. There didn’t seem to be any hope for them to make up. They’d both lied to one another, and their differences were too vast.

  “No,” Joanie shouted. “It’s not right. He needs to hear her apology first. He can’t run out on her now. She needs him more than ever before.”

  Theo stared at her. “That’s true, but I’m sure it will turn out right.”

  She stood and paced the room, her gaze glued to the screen. Biting her lip, she willed the hero to listen to her. The couple needed each other. Why didn’t the hero see how genuine the heroine was?

  Sad music from the TV seeped into her being, sending waves of melancholy through her. She hiccupped as she allowed the sadness to spurt out of her. She wailed as the heroine stood on the edge of a bridge, contemplating whether to jump.

  “No, Elly, don’t do that. Phil believes in you. He’s working through his own demons.”

  After twenty excruciating minutes, the couple held one another in a desperate, joyful embrace. They kissed passionately then the credits came onto the screen.

  Joanie’s whole body eased as she sank onto the sofa, grabbing the box of chocolates to open.

  For the first time in over half an hour, she became aware of Theo watching her.

  Oh no! She’d been so engrossed she’d lost all self-respect. She’d acted like a royal arse. “I’m sorry. You didn’t see that, did you? No one needs to know.”

  His expression remained unreadable although he did look kind of pale. “Does this happen on a regular basis?”

  Heat flushed her face. “I didn’t want to watch a romance with you. I knew I’d regret it.”

  He smiled, reaching for her. She pulled away, stretching her legs out toward him to put some distance between their faces. It didn’t help when he massaged her heels.

  “I’ve never seen anything like your response. Makes for fascinating viewing.”

  She averted her gaze. “Shall we go to bed?” She so hoped he would let go of her feet.

  “Of course not. We should enjoy another movie.”

  “One is enough for a night. I don’t think I could take any more.”

  He tickled the balls of her feet. She jerked them away, almost kicking him in the face, making him yank back.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m sorry. Do the movies upset you?” Concern laced his gaze—so he didn’t despise her? He tried to understand her.

  “Not at all. As soon as it’s over, I forget about it. Except for some awesome ones like Titanic or Notting Hill. Or when the ending doesn’t make sense.”

  Theo rose to take the plates to the kitchen, leaving Joanie alone to her thoughts. How come he’d left the room so soon?

  She stuffed a couple of chocolates in her mouth, cringing at the sugar rush.

  Maybe she had disturbed Theo. Maybe it was a good thing—a way to get rid of him quicker because he had become way too comfortable in her home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Theo cleaned the few day dishes in the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. He took it to his room to process the strange emotions and thoughts passing through him.

  I love her. Now, I’m certain.

  Before, he’d wanted her, longed to keep her in his life. After tonight, he couldn’t live without her, and it hurt.

  Did she still think of him as a strange man taking advantage of their situation? Did she only see him as a sexual playmate? He couldn’t go with that. He needed more.

  She hid herself—her true self—from him, and he hated it. Tonight, it had surfaced for a brief interlude, and he wished he could have filmed it as proof.

  He loved who she was—the vulnerable, soft, feminine side and the tough, independent, grown-up-fast side. He adored the way she acted during the movie, how she ached for even imaginary people. She had compassion, a deep need for other human beings to be happy.

  Once he set his coffee cup down, he remembered he’d left his newspaper in the lounge. He went to the door, stopping at the sight of Joanie standing in front of a gilded mirror on the wall.

  She’d placed the large, top-heavy protea into the pretty floral band in her hair. She posed, smiling at her reflection. Then she took the flower out and sniffed it. She placed it back in the vase and retrieved a daisy, doing the same. Lastly, she picked up the whole bunch and danced around the room with it.

  The woman seemed enthralled with the flowers he’d given her. Beneath that independent, tough, sometimes annoyed barrier, was a softy.

  The newspaper could wait. He didn’t want her to know he’d seen her. He burrowed in his room, closing the door behind him, wishing she would change her mind and once again offer for him to share her bed. Stupid idea he’d had to not push it too far.

  Dumbass idea. How he’d love to see what new pajamas she’d bought. What position did she like to sleep in? Did she snore, groan in her sleep, or maybe move around a bit? Did she like to read before she went to sleep like he did?

  Maybe she would let him smooth his hands on her perfectly round and firm derriere. Or perhaps they might spoon as they fell off to sleep. But then, if he woke at two in the morning, he would want to make love.

  Unable to keep silent any longer, he burst out of the room and met Joanie in the hallway. She pressed a flower to her chest, but, as soon as she noticed him, jerked her hand behind her back. “Uh…sorry, didn’t see you.”

  “Joanie.” He remained with his legs slightly apart, feeling l
ike he stood in front of a firing squad.

  “Yep?”

  “I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

  “What deal?” She pressed her unhidden hand to her forehead. “I’m lost. It’s late, and I can’t think straight.”

  “To share your bed.”

  She retreated, her face frozen. The wilted flower dropped to the floor behind her.

  He reached out. I’m losing her.

  She shook her head numbly. “I can’t.”

  “Why not? We’ve made love already. Anyway, I’m more keen on sleep than anything else.”

  “Me, too. That’s exactly it. I like my space when I sleep.”

  “You have a double bed.”

  “You’re not the smallest person in the world, Theo.”

  The promise she made flashed into his mind—that she would share her life, home, and bed with him. How could he even think of that promise in terms of reality or commitment? He couldn’t control her. Even the magic couldn’t force her to let him into her life fully.

  “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She nodded and walked down the hallway. He did a quick check that all the doors were locked and lights off before brushing his teeth to prepare for bed. Good thing he was too tired to think too deeply about the heavy disappointment.

  ***

  Joanie shuffled down the dark hallway at midnight. Should I knock on his door or just go in? How could she pluck up the courage to tell him she’d changed her mind—in the middle of the night?

  She couldn’t sleep. Knew she wouldn’t get a wink unless Theo lay next to her in the bed. Why? Sleeping with the protea didn’t cut it—the dried flower prickled her, unlike yielding skin against firm muscle. She’d tried to keep the flower in the bed to remind her of him without having him.

  Damn, am I horny again? Even Theo had said he didn’t want any more sex because he was tired. So how can I want it again?

  She’d told him she didn’t want him, not because she didn’t crave his closeness, but because she moved a lot in her sleep. If he lay next to her, he might leave in the middle of the night with a black eye or bruised rib. He’d leave her and never return.

  Theo seemed to want one thing—to play along with the magic so he could get going, too. She didn’t blame him. She’d wanted the same.

  Until tonight.

  Even after she’d acted like a drama queen during the movie, he’d still asked to sleep in her bed. That meant he still found her attractive after seeing the real Joanie—the emotional, soft, squishy romance junkie.

  Holding the flowers he’d given her didn’t take away the ache in her heart to snuggle in his arms while she fell asleep. What had happened to her thirst for freedom and space? Had the last few sleepless nights taken away her sanity?

  She hummed as she walked back and forth.

  Theo’s door clicked open. She stood poised, staring at the whitewashed panels, her body awash with heat and shivers at the same time.

  Nothing. He didn’t come. Maybe the door had blown open. It sometimes did that from a slight breeze when her sister Maggie had lived there.

  She peeped into the darkened room. His pronounced breathing eased into her senses, stirring need. Slipping into the room, she made her way to the bed by the light of a full moon outside.

  Good thing he’s already tucked against the wall. She climbed into the three-quarter bed, her heart pounding in her throat. Theo slept next to her, oblivious to the heat sizzling in her. She turned to face him, her stomach inches from his back. Electricity sparked between them, yet he lay there oblivious. She smiled, feeling naughty and loving it.

  Taking a huge chance, she tucked herself into him, her breasts against the small of his back, her pelvis curved around his gorgeous buttocks, and her legs molded to his. Warmth seeped through her being. She relished the rhythm of his breath, and sweet peace infused her. Sleep claimed her in seconds.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Theo opened his eyes to moonlight spilling over blonde silk on his pillow.

  Am I dreaming?

  Joanie lay next to him, hogging his whole pillow. He was crammed right against the cold wall. She lay splayed out, legs wide, mouth open, and beautiful lashes dusting silvery cheeks.

  Fantasies were real.

  He touched her forehead, brushing the silky locks from her eyes. The most beautiful creature in the whole world slept in his bed.

  She must have snuck in during the night.

  He peered at his clock radio’s digital display. The hour read close to five in the morning, and outside was still dark in the early winter.

  The door stood ajar—another proof he wasn’t dreaming.

  Oh, those lips. How he could kiss them. Her lips were parted, ready for him to plunge his tongue into her mouth.

  The covers lay half-off her. She wore a simple long-sleeved flannel nighty with owls and little Zs all over it—soft and feminine like the pure female specimen right there for the taking.

  Her nipples poked round projections beneath the fabric. Unable to resist, he leaned over and licked.

  She jerked awake and gasped.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh. It’s okay.” Her voice sounded husky. If she were his wife forever, he could have this treat whenever he wanted.

  Oh, she tortures me. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he whispered to her. “I want you.”

  “Okay.”

  He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she responded with fervor. Had she been longing for this all along? Or did she want to sleep with him every night from now on?

  Pushing the thoughts aside, he kissed her deeper, pulling her petite body on top of his. She giggled, and her breath sank into him. No morning breath on her. He drew her mouth toward him again, the soft smell of sleep all over her face. Her sweetness and inert goodness infused him—the very self she’d tried to hide from him.

  He could get so used to being able to help himself to her body at any time in the night. Fumbling for the hem of her nighty, he pulled it up, delving beneath. Finding no panties, he grinned. He thrust his finger into the crack between her bum cheeks.

  “Oh, baby, you’re a minx.”

  She giggled again. He fiddled with the soft puckered skin while she rubbed her pelvis against his pajama pants.

  “Get rid of them.” Her command came out husky and bold.

  “If you get off me.”

  She jumped to the side of the bed, and, while he removed his pajamas, she slipped her nighty off over her head. She seemed embarrassed although he couldn’t make out a blush in the moonlight. How vulnerable his very own tiger appeared, and he edged toward her, taking her into his arms and drawing her down beside him.

  He kissed her with gentle movements, trying to convey love as well as lust. If only she could know he loved her just the way she was. Even if she retreated sometimes or shied away from showing her beautiful body to him, or even if she became annoyed with him, he loved her, the whole package of Joanie. He adored her spunk, her fire, and her stubbornness, for that’s what made her a strong woman.

  To distract himself from the raw emotion, he pressed his finger onto her clitoris, and she sucked in her breath, almost biting his lip. He relished her immediate response. He dipped his head to her tits and sucked on them, flicking the swollen buds with his tongue—a very erotic movement that hardened his cock in an instant. She squirmed beneath his touch. The woman seemed so easy to please, melting in his hands. Touching and changing her gave him a sense of power, as though the world lay at his feet.

  Grasping his erection, she ran her cool fingers down his shaft, increasing the pressure with each stroke, bringing out his involuntary groan of pleasure. Heat surged through his body while he relished the softness of her breasts against him. He wanted all of her at once. How is that possible?

  “Lie down.”

  Grinning, she did as instructed. He grabbed a condom from the bedside-table drawer and sheathed himself. He press
ed into her, while honing in on her nipples with his mouth. He wouldn’t grow weary of her breasts, pure sweetness to taste and tease. How could he choose between her luscious lips and her round peaks? He alternated between the two, becoming quicker with each successive movement.

  She writhed beneath him, seeming to enjoy every moment, too. Her pussy was tight and wet, glorious friction on his cock. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders while he thrust into her, relentless, until she reached climax, crying out the husky moans that sent him over the edge, careening toward a tunnel of light.

  “Aah,” he moaned as he ejaculated into her, spending every last ounce of longing he’d built up the last few days.

  They lay embraced for some time then he rose to dispose of the condom and go to the bathroom. Getting away from her allowed him to deal with the intensity of emotions pumping through him.

  He’d taken her virginity. Had he been enough for her memories to be good—more than good—incredible? He wanted her to acquaint pure pleasure with her experience with him. What a privilege if she did.

  When he returned to his room, she was fast asleep, covered only with a blanket, one of her breasts peeping out. He stared at her, still reeling with the shock that she was his. For a brief time.

  Tucking in behind her, he placed his hand on the bare breast and closed his eyes with sweet contentment, pushing away any thoughts of the future.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Joanie awoke with Theo’s alarm blaring a crazy, cackling sound like a witch’s laugh mixed with some type of rap music.

  Theo didn’t move. She smiled at the way he snoozed, pushed against the wall. She must have kept him on his toes most of the night with the way she slept so spread out. Could explain his inability to wake with the jarring noise.

  She patted him on the head. “Switch it off.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your alarm. Why does it have to be so loud?”

  “I take my hearing aid out when I sleep, and if I’m on the wrong ear….” He climbed over her to shut off the alarm.