Chapter Twenty-nine
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TOBIAS
I’ve never been happier writing a book than I am right now. That night at my grandma’s house must have been a fluke because, as soon as Natalie and I gave our all, I swear, I’ve never felt more inspired. Maybe I was stressed over our relationship, and it blocked something inside me. Whatever it was, it’s gone.
I feel lighter. Freer.
I watch Natalie’s concentration as she types away on her laptop. For the last week, we have spent a couple of hours each night working on this story, followed by sleepless nights in each other’s arms.
It’s crazy to think that all the sappy and swoony and sexy words I’ve written over the years are now happening in my real life.
It’s even crazier to think that I could have missed all of this.
Look at her. Her hair is in a mess on the top of her head, stray pieces framing her face. She curled it this morning, but one breakfast sex in the kitchen later and now her hair is a mess. Her eyes are practically glowing as she stares at her screen, and her lips—wow, don’t even get me started on the way my imagination runs wild over those.
I’m one lucky, lucky man.
“If you keep looking at me like that, zero work will get done tonight, and after the last two nights, I want—no, I need to get these words in.”
I chuckle. “Spoken like a true romance writer.”
She fake bows at her seat. “Thank you.”
She gets back to writing, but then groans. “Tobias, what is it?”
I rub my chin, grinning.
Gosh, I’m such a fool for her, it’s not even funny.
“Have I told you thank you?”
“For what?” She sits back, crossing her arms.
“For reminding me why I love to write and showing me how easy it was to get that passion back.”
“Ugh, don’t be cute right now. I’m working.”
“Why? Is it distracting?”
“Extremely.”
I stand slowly.
“Don’t,” she laughs. “Sit back down right now.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
She shakes her head and crosses her arms. “You forget that I know you. You’re up to something and by the look in your eyes, whatever it is, is going to keep me from finishing this chapter.”
“What are you writing?” I ask, moving toward her.
“I love how you ask me this, knowing we plotted the book together.”
“True, but it’s normal for me to be writing the planned scene when a new one takes over, giving the chapter a better flow than the original one.”
I sit on her desk and reach for her face.
She smacks my hand away.
“Maybe you struggled to write before because you were too distracted by the world around you.”
Nah, I think it was because I didn’t have Natalie in my life the way she deserved to be.
“Trust me. I’m more distracted now, and I’m getting more down.”
She scoots her chair away from me, smirking.
“Five hundred more words.”
I glance at her screen and suddenly crack up.
“I don’t remember agreeing to a sex scene here.”
“Well,” she tosses her hands up, letting them slap her thighs when they drop. “Sex isn’t always planned okay? And people get turned on at random moments of their day. Hence, he just told her he has to go back to the East Coast and the thought of him leaving made her go crazy.”
“I like that angle. Feel free to finish the scene.”
“Are you going to move?” she asks coyly.
I shake my head. “No.”
“You’re just going to watch me write?”
I volley my head. “I was thinking we could test your focus.”
I grab her chair by the arm and yank it toward me. She gasps, but quickly pulls it together when she’s right in front of me and I lean down until our lips are just a brush away from each other. “Write out what you want him to do to her, and I’ll do it to you at the same time.”
She guffaws. “Yeah, okay.”
I raise a brow in challenge.
“You’re serious?” she asks.
“When it comes to touching you in any form, I’m dead serious.”
I press my lips to hers, trapping her lip between my teeth gently before I pull away.
The smallest whimper comes from her.
“Finish the scene, Natalie,” I tell her and get to my knees in front of her.
She closes her eyes as I run my hands up her legs, inching her flowing skirt higher and higher. I hear her inhale when one hand dips in between her thighs and swipes against her underwear.
“Tell me what to do.”
“I want you to …”
“Write it as you tell me.”
She groans, moving the chair to face her computer. I move with her and when I hear the click of the keyboard, I sneak one finger under her thong and press it against her clit.
“Fuck,” she breathes, but she keeps writing.
“Come on, Dove. I need you to tell me what to do next.”
“Lift my hips to remove my underwear.”
I do as I’m told.
“Now scoot me down to the edge of my chair.”
Again, I follow directions.
“Spread my legs.”
Done.
“Now, eat.”
I spread her thighs even wider and do as she commands. The moment my tongue presses the first long stroke to her core, she stops typing. I’d tell her to keep going, but my mouth is busy, and I don’t particularly care about the book at this moment.
I flick my tongue faster, listening to her breathing increase. She lets out a moan, and I add a finger.
“Tobias,” she moans, trying to lean back, but she can’t.
I pull away quickly, grabbing her at the waist and taking her with me to the floor. I place her on her knees on each side of my face, never taking my hands off her.
She tries to move, but I stop her.
“I’m not done yet,” I growl.
“But you won’t be able to breathe.”
“Don’t you worry about me. Just find something to hold on to, and when you’re ready, ride my face the way you want to.”
“Tobias,” she begins to scold me, but I get back to work, stopping all the words on her tongue.
“Shit,” she says. “Why does it feel so much better this way?”
I continue to flick my tongue, bring my fingers into the mix until I feel her move above me. Her hips gyrate faster and faster, grinding on my face.
I almost laugh—she was worried I couldn't breathe.
I can breathe just fine, and honestly, if I couldn’t, this would be exactly how I’d want to go out.
Her release hits her hard and fast, and as soon as she finishes, I sit up, placing her in my lap, with one leg on each side of me.
I swipe a hand over my mouth, loving the taste of her on my lips.
“Well, that is definitely not what my characters were doing in that scene.”
“Good. This should have been better.”
“Oh, it was much, much better.”
She leans down to kiss me, and I know she can feel my erection through my jeans. Ready for more, she unzips my pants, releasing me from my boxers, slides on a condom, and slowly lowers herself onto me.
At this rate, this book will be just another in the pile of my unfinished novels.
She lifts herself slightly and drops back down on me.
“Fuck.” She does this over and over until I’m coming inside of her and she’s crying out my name.
Book? What book?
* * *
I’m the first one to The Space the next afternoon for our weekly writing session. That hasn’t happened in weeks.
I get set up and start working on the next chapter of Natalie’s and my book. We’re almost done, and it blows my mind. A little over two months ago, we decided to write this book.
I didn’t even write my first book in that time. Then again, I had no idea what I was doing or even where to begin.
With Natalie, I just got my outlines together, and we pieced the story together and decided to write every other chapter. She knows this business and what readers want, and I know how to structure the books. It worked for us and now—now I’m about to finish a book.
I’m about to finish a book.
I like repeating it because it’s a moment I never thought I’d see again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before,” Simon says, joining me at the table.
I’m pretty sure I smile even bigger.
“Natalie and I are almost done with this book,” I say with my head high, and I puff my chest.
“Seriously? That was fast.”
“I know, but we found our groove, and it just took off.”
“That’s good. Do you think you’ll write more books together?”
“Maybe.” I like that idea. Perhaps I’ll be a co-writer from here on out. “I like that idea.”
He settles in with his computer.
“Outside of the book, how are things going with Natalie?”
“Things are good.”
Really good, actually.
“That’s good. Even if you and Natalie decide to write more books together, you should keep writing them alone too.”
I nod. “I’m starting to think she’s the only reason I’m finishing this book, so I don’t know if I’ll go back to writing alone.”
“Yeah, but what if something happens between the two of you?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. What if you break up?”
I let out a bark. “That won’t happen.”
“You’re that sure?”
“It’s Natalie, Simon. My Natalie. I know everything about her, and she knows everything about me. She’s it for me.”
His expression gives no hint to his thoughts, but the vibe he’s giving off says he’s not sure he agrees with me.
“What if something happens with you and Greer?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fine. I get it. I just worry.”
“Well, don’t.”
Like always, we quickly fall into a routine: work on the new location and then dive into writing for the day.
I open the document Natalie and I share, reading over her last chapter. I make a couple of notes for her and then chuckle quietly at her notes on how it’s hard to write a non-sexy scene after I’ve not only kept her up at night in person but then she has to read my dirty talk, and all she wants to do is keep going with a spicy scene.
I leave my own note that perhaps our next book could be a novella about a sex addict. That way, she can write her heart out with sex.
I read the ending to her chapter again, but for some reason the fourth time I read it, it makes me pause.
I never imagined that the three of us would be a family. This moment has always been a dream of mine, and now that I have it, I’m scared it won’t be enough. That I won’t be enough. That he’ll get tired of this small-town life and want more. I’ve never been happier, but if I’m not careful, he’s going to get bored with me and leave us behind. How do I guarantee my own happily ever after?
Natalie made a comment about me getting bored with her just before everyone arrived for the BBQ last weekend too.
I lean back and rub my chin. Is this our heroine, or is this Natalie talking?