Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NATALIE
It’s safe to say that sleep was nonexistent for me last night. Anytime I closed my eyes, I saw Tobias. Shirtless, grinning Tobias, hovering above me on the couch or his bed or my bed. I’d wake with a jerk and a throbbing I’ve never felt before between my legs. By the third time I woke because of this same dream, I was throbbing so badly, I almost considered waking him.
I groan and drop my face into my hands.
That’s how bad it is—or was. I can’t believe I even considered sneaking into his room.
But last night on the couch, there was a moment. Or maybe there wasn’t, and I’m overthinking because I’m rusty in this department. For obvious reasons, my judgment of men is rusty.
But this is Tobias. He’s not just anyone.
No. No. There was a moment.
Is this what happens when a person calls off their engagement? The lost feeling turns into feelings for the one friend they know they can count on the most. Perhaps this is just some subconscious part of my mind looking for something it was lacking with Griffin?
A knock on my door startles me.
“Nat, are you still in there?”
Shit.
His scratchy morning voice sends a spark of desire right between my legs.
I quickly rise from the bed where I’ve been working on my computer and answer the door.
“Yes, hi,” I smile at him.
I refuse to let my gaze drift down to his bare chest.
All right, it might have slipped a bit.
This is Tobias. He’s your best friend. You’ve been around him thousands of times, shirtless, while he was working out, and it’s never fazed you.
Until now.
“Are you coming down for breakfast?”
He eyes me suspiciously. I don’t blame him. I’ve been in the kitchen before him every single morning since I moved in. Even when we were in Lovers.
And then the day after the couch moment happens, I don't show up.
His mind is probably going as crazy as mine is.
“Oh, yes, of course. I was just … going to get ready first. Hit the ground running today. I was going to put on my running clothes. You know, now that I have them.”
His eyes narrow—well, as much as they can since the majority of his face is black, blue, and swollen.
“Oh, okay. I was thinking we could get started writing today since we didn’t have much time this weekend. I was up late last night writing a couple of chapters I think could be great openings. I thought you could read them and let me know.”
Of course. Of course , his first thought was about the book we’re writing together, not last night. Hell, he went to his room to write while I—never mind.
It’s settled.
I’m overthinking.
“Yes. As soon as I get back, we can do that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeat awkwardly.
He turns to leave but then turns back.
“Are you avoiding me?” Tobias asks. “Is that why you’re still in your room?”
I cross my arms and shake my head.
“No.”
He nudges my shoulder. “Come on, Dove, I know you. You’re avoiding me.”
Again, I just shake my head.
He lets out a long sigh.
“Is it ... did I … say something last night that crossed a line?”
My eyes snap to his, and as soon as I see the worry in them, I let out a breath.
“No. You didn’t.”
He really didn’t, and it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault that I have been obsessing over his thumb on my leg or the way his eyes focused on my lips for much longer than needed.
“You’d tell me if I did, though, right?”
I nod.
“Okay then. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Back from where?”
“Your … run?”
“Oh.” I let out a laugh. “Right, right.”
He knocks on the doorframe and then leaves me to it.
You know, to go on that run I’d been planning for today.
* * *
Turns out, running is great for the mind, and boy, is Tobias in for the ideas I have. I don’t bother changing when I get back.
“We should start the book with a sex scene,” I say confidently, marching to my desk in his office. It showed up yesterday, and luckily, we put it together before going to get my clothes. I still need to set it up for work and whatnot, but my computer is there, and that’s all I need to get this book started.
Tobias is removing his glasses and leaning back in his chair.
“And why do you think that?”
I drop into my seat.
“My favorite books start with a bang.”
“A bang,” he repeats. “You seem to like that word a lot.”
“Of course I do; it’s going to the book title.”
“Is it now?” He grins.
“Yes.”
I’m not serious, but the room has quickly transformed into a typical Natalie and Tobias vibe, and I much prefer this one over the one earlier. Plus, if we can’t joke about last night, what kind of friends are we, really?
If I could have this banter with someone all day, every day, I would.
“Okay, well, how about I send you the two chapters I wrote? You can read them and then tell me what you think,” he asks.
“Well, how about I write the sex scene I think should happen first, and then we can read each other's work?”
He chuckles. “You’re just going to whip one out real fast, are you? As if it were the most natural thing in the world to write about the desire two people have for each other. The heat. The connection.”
I nod, ignoring the way his words make me cross my legs, and open up a Word document. “Yep. It’s been on my mind since last night.”
As soon as I say the words, I glance up. He’s watching me, but I can't make out what his expression means. I usually can, but this one is blank.
My palms start to sweat, and my heart beats faster than when I was running.
“I just mean that I thought of an idea last night, and it’s been on my mind, and if the level of seduction isn’t top-notch, you can just teach me.”
Yeah, that totally helped you, Natalie.
“All right” is all he says before returning to his computer.
I pull up a blank document and the one Tobias shared with me, which has all our notes. I read over them quickly. How in the world does a whole book come from this? Like, how do you put it together? We know what we want to happen, but we haven’t lined up the events yet, and I think that’s why having different opinions on how the story starts. Of course, Tobias does this all the time, so he would know the best route.
“How would you start it? I know I said sex, but you're the expert.”
He looks up again and shrugs. “Honestly, I don't want to write this book the way I’ve written the rest.”
“Why not? Those are bestsellers.”
“Because that’s how I’ve been writing, and I’m getting nothing done. I want to write a new book as if it’s my first, and technically it is, with you. So, any decision we make is going to be together.”
I smile, twisting my lips to the side so I don’t look too crazy.
“Okay. Are there any words off limits?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like—” I tap my chin. “Do I ease the reader in with talk of my heat and his erection, or do I dive right in and say she wanted his cock inside her pussy as if it were her next breath?”
Again, his blank expression stares back at me.
Is he breathing? Is he uncomfortable? Why do I not know this look?
“Tobias? Did I break you?” I ask on a laugh. Maybe writing a steamy romance together wasn’t the smartest idea, but there is no backing out now. I’m making a dream come true, and he’s overcoming his writer’s block.
We both need this.
He clears his throat and scratches the back of his head.
“I think you write what feels the most natural to you.”
“Do I just picture it?”
He nods but doesn’t look up. “In a sense, sure. Think of how you feel, what you see, what surprises you, and even the smells surrounding you in that moment.”
Like his wintergreen breath last night when I was in his lap.
“All right, what if?—”
“Stop talking and write the scene,” he says, pointing at my computer.
“Ah, are you going to be this bossy the entire time we write?”
“Do you want me to be?”
I shrug. “Maybe, yeah.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.”
“Natalie?”
“Yes?”
“Please start writing.”
I smile and do as I’m told.
An hour later, we have officially switched scenes. His writing is captivating and sucks me in with just the first few lines. As he said, he wrote two scenes. One version has the couple meeting, and neither knows who the other is. The other has them meeting, but the heroine knows exactly who the hero is. She tries to resist him, but he’s funny and charming. She falls for him, and they have a one-night stand. Tobias notes in the next scene that she ends up getting pregnant. But surprise, the hero is still getting over his ex and has changed all his contact info so she can't find him to tell him about the baby. Two years later, he shows up in her small town to buy her family’s winery.
“I like the version where she knows who he is—it has higher stakes,” I say quickly. “And since it’s from the hero's point of view, we could use my scene as the second chapter. It could be the one-night stand from the heroine’s point of view.”
I rest my chin in my hands as I wait for him to respond.
“That could work. The setup is there, and it takes the reader right into the spice, which we want throughout the entire book.”
He doesn't look up when he says this, which bothers me. I wanted him to say more about my scene and not just the setup. Hell, it was my first scene. I want to know what he thinks about my writing. Am I any good? Is this all some dream of mine that will stay just a fantasy because my writing sucks?
“That’s it?”
He presses his lips into a thin line and nods. “Yeah.”
“How was my scene?”
I get up from my desk and move to stand next to him.
The bottom of my document is on his screen, so I know he read it.
“Was it that bad?” I ask, sitting on the edge of his desk and letting my shoulders drop. “I knew it.”
“No,” he clears his throat. “It’s good.”
I roll my eyes.
“You’re just saying that because I’m clearly sad now. This whole thing was stupid, wasn’t it? I’m such an amateur compared to you.”
“Don’t talk about yourself that way, and no, I’m not just saying that.”
“Mm-hmm, sure.”
“I’d never lie to you. This scene is great. It’s very detailed, and you certainly put the reader in the moment. People are going to love that.”
“Really?” I rub a hand under my nose to hide my smile. “Did anything trip you up? Did my word choices make you cringe?”
“Everything flowed beautifully. You have the hands in the right place, the breathing isn’t too much, and the verbiage is just right to lock them into the scene. You really hit it off with this one.”
I drop my hand and stand, pressing my hands together.
“You really mean that?”
“I do.”
I reach around him from behind and hug him tight, jumping and squealing at the same time.
“We’re really doing this. We’re writing a book. Oh my god.” I sit back on his desk. “I’m really doing it.”
“You are.”
I hug him once more. “Thank you. You really are the best best friend a girl could ask for.”
Which is something I can't forget. These fleeting feelings I felt for Tobias over the night need to be just that. Fleeting.
Ruining the friendship we’ve finally gotten back and the new journey we’re about to take with this book isn’t an option.