Chapter 9
SCARLETT
The comforter is cool against my warm skin.
I’m sprawled across the bed, my panties and jeans somewhere on the floor.
The fan turns in a lazy rhythm above me, and I squeeze my thighs together, knowing no man has ever inspired me so damn much.
The last time I was with anyone was a little over two years ago.
I’ve been in my head too much to date or give anyone a chance until now.
Knowing that I’m leaving in a week doesn’t give us much time to get to know one another. I don’t want to waste time, but I also can’t fuck up this deadline.
I try to relax and give myself time to catch my breath.
My voice recorder sits on the nightstand where I left it.
I grab it, my fingers brushing over the worn button, hesitating for half a second before I press it.
I don’t let myself think about the words I’m saying; I just speak from a state of flow.
“I…” I pause and swallow hard. “I touched myself to thoughts about him. The fantasy of being with him overtook me.”
My voice is steady as I spill my heart out.
“He makes me feel something that I can’t describe. It’s like we know each other, but we don’t. It feels like a soul connection, like he deeply understands me.”
I stare at the ceiling.
“I shouldn’t have kissed him by the fire, but I needed to know I wasn’t imagining things earlier.
Tonight, if nothing else, I confirmed our chemistry.
When our tongues slid together, it felt like we were the only two people in the world who mattered.
His gentle fingers pulled me closer to him, and I wasn’t worried about my deadline or the future, just him.
“Ezra pulled away first, like he could read my thoughts, or maybe that intense feeling scared the shit out of him, too. Experiencing deep emotions with someone I barely know is new for me.”
I sigh.
“I don’t know what I’m afraid of.”
I set the recorder down on the bed and stare at it as it continues to capture my thoughts. “That’s not entirely true. I’m afraid of falling in love again, giving my heart to someone, and having it broken,” I whisper.
“I can’t keep making the same mistakes and choosing men who never intend to choose me. My entire life is in New York.”
My hand tightens around the recorder. “I’m so scared everyone will read this and figure out that every thought I’ve penned is about him.”
The words hang in the air, and I don’t know what else to say after sharing my truths.
I turn the recorder off and lie there, staring at the ceiling, heart still racing.
After another moment, I sit up, reach for my panties, and slide them on.
I grab my robe that’s hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
The fabric clings to my skin as I cross the room toward the large windows and notice the glow of the main house spilling faintly across the grass.
I look up at the moon, then my eyes move toward the third-story room.
I see Ezra’s silhouette pacing.
Even from down here, he’s unmistakable—tall, bare-chested, half-shadowed. There’s a restless energy in his movement, like he’s trying to outrun something. His hand drags through his messy hair before he stops at the window, looking out.
I stay completely still, watching him like he’s part of a silent film.
I feel strangely tethered to him and this place, like there’s an invisible rope between us and it’s pulled tight.
After another minute, he turns and walks away, disappearing from view.
I’ve not actually had an official tour of the house and have only noticed its large size from the outside.
There’s no logic to what he’s doing to me.
I move away from the window and turn off the overhead lights, then flip on the lamp.
My heart is still trying to remember how to beat at a regular rhythm as I walk to the desk.
I pull the chair forward so I’m in a more comfortable seated position. The soft robe slides against my bare legs as I shift to open my laptop. The screen lights up, and my document is at the end of a scene that’s unfinished and aching for something more.
The cursor blinks at the end of a sentence I wasn’t in love with earlier.
Now, as I reread it, I don’t hate it. I exhale, plant my hands firmly on the keys, and start to type.
Helena’s breath catches as Jordan moves toward her like he knows she’s everything he wants and needs.
He stops just short of touching her, his eyes searching hers for permission.
When she doesn’t look away, he reaches for her face, tilts her chin up, and kisses her like it’s a confession he’s been waiting to make since the moment their eyes met on the porch.
My fingers move faster than I expect them to.
The lines come in full beats, followed by smooth dialogue and action. The story practically writes itself as I share how kissing Ezra made me feel.
His lips kiss her neck, causing her to shudder. He rubs his thumb over the edge of her jaw, and this time, their tongues twist together. Helena moans against him, feeling him growing hard against her. Jordan is turned on, but so is she.
My heroine doesn’t second-guess the moment the hero makes his move. She lets herself have what she desperately craves, something I haven’t figured out how to do yet.
As the emotions pour out of me, I realize how much I’ve missed creating.
This time, I don’t stop to overthink or dissect the construction of each sentence or my vocabulary choice.
I don’t revise or trim it into something neater.
I let the tension build between my characters in a way neither one of them can escape.
The pacing finds itself. The emotional rhythm that had been missing for so long clicks into place without me forcing it.
When I finally pause for a break, my wrists ache. My leg is tucked under my body, and I pull it out and stand, needing to stretch. The sky outside is much darker. Night has fallen.
I scroll to the beginning of the chapter and recognize pieces of myself that I had thought I’d lost.
I immediately save it, not wanting to lose my work.
There is no time for that.
As I stretch, my neck cracks, and the robe slips slightly off one of my shoulders. The only thing that pulls me away is my phone vibrating on the nightstand.
I pick it up and smile when I see it’s my bestie.
Hallie
Please tell me you’re currently being that man’s dessert after dinner. I need to live vicariously through you.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, the phone still glowing in my hand. Somehow, Hallie always seems to know when I need her. Like she has a sixth sense for when I’m holding my breath and not sure if I should exhale.
Scarlett
No, I’m back at the cottage, working. I think this might be the best thing I’ve written in years.
The little dots immediately appear.
Hallie
I hope it’s filthy.
Scarlett
It’s emotional. I’m finding myself again.
Hallie
I’m happy for you. This is exactly what you’ve needed to get back in the groove again.
Scarlett
There’s something about this place, Hal. I don’t know what pulled me here, out of all the towns I’ve visited over the past decade, but it feels like it’s meant to be.
I fall back on the bed, holding the phone in my hands.
Scarlett
We kissed again. I’m so scared about falling for this man.
Hallie
What if you just see how it goes? Be the woman you aren’t in New York. Live a little.
Scarlett
That sounds like famous last words.
But she’s right.
Hallie
You haven’t dated in years. You haven’t tried. Take advantage of being away from the city and the spotlight. Right now, you’re in the clear. You’re not on anyone’s radar.
Scarlett
Until my next release is announced.
Hallie
Even better reason to enjoy yourself while you can.
I sigh.
Scarlett
This is a workcation. He’s too distracting.
Hallie
Are those excuses? You only live once.
This makes me laugh.
Scarlett
You’re right. I need to let my inner ho out to play.
Hallie
It will make for some hot sex scenes.
Scarlett
I did finish four more chapters today. At this rate, as long as I continue at this level of production, I will have a draft finished a day before my deadline.
Hallie
Send me something, anything. I’m dying over here.
Scarlett
I will soon! I promise.
I lock my phone and look around the room. It’s dim in that late-night kind of way. I make my way to the kitchenette, pulling the robe tighter at the waist as I make some tea. Steam rises as I pour hot water over my bag of Earl Grey.
Cradling the mug in both hands, I walk to the window and lean my shoulder against the frame, looking out across the yard. The garden is cast in shadow now; the light from the house is long gone.
I glance up at the big home, wondering if he’s sleeping.
Or if he’s lying awake, thinking about me.
My laptop screen glows behind me, and I consider getting back to work. But when I yawn, I know it’s time to shut it down for the day.
My recorder is where I left it, and I snatch it up, pressing the record button.
“It’s only been a few days, and I’m in trouble,” I say. “But I think I’m going to let whatever happens between us happen.”
I click stop and finish drinking my tea as I thumb through my last text conversation with Ezra. He’s so damn flirty it makes me smile.
Still can’t believe men like him actually exist.