Chapter 16 #2
I pause, glancing at the book sitting on the counter where I left it last night. “I bought a copy for her to sign. I’m planning on reading it.”
She lets out a dramatic gasp. “You better. Plus, I’m sure it would impress her to know you did. A man who reads is attractive.”
“I don’t need pointers.”
“Maybe you do,” she offers.
“No, I just know what I want. And it hasn’t been anyone you’ve tried to matchmake me with,” I explain like I have a million times before. This conversation isn’t new. “And what does this have to do with Scarlett, anyway? She’s just renting the cottage.”
She clears her throat. “You’re gonna lie to me like this?”
“Aunt Millie. Please. You’re adding too much pressure.
Let things happen as they will. I don’t need any suggestions, and honestly, the less I know about her, the better.
Right now, we’re getting to know one another, that’s it.
So tell the rumor mill to stop spinning lies before this spreads around and gets posted online somewhere.
I promise you, that’s the last thing Scarlett wants. She needs privacy.”
The line is silent for a few seconds, and I place some toast on another skillet, ensuring the butter is melted on the bottom first.
“No one here is gonna say a thing. You know we protect our own. But all the ladies around town know about Scarlett’s past. We also know she’s had a rough couple of years.”
“Is this what you do at book club?” I’m frozen in place. “You keep up with Scarlett Collins gossip?”
Millie’s voice softens. “When a woman writes about the perfect man, you can’t help but wonder about her relationship. We loved Scarlett’s book. We love Scarlett. But this news was on the cover of every gossip magazine. It couldn’t be missed.”
“I missed it,” I admit.
“You don’t read romance. Anyway, just be yourself and you’ll have nothing to worry about. I’m so excited to meet her!”
I flip the eggs and the toast. “You’re rushing things.”
“If I were, I’d ask you when’s the wedding.” She hums.
“Millie!” I scold.
“Okay, I’m not tryin’ to antagonize you. I’ll stop with this as long as you visit me at the bakery soon.”
The eggs sizzle. “This isn’t a negotiation.”
“Yes, it is. It’s been too long, and I want you to bring Scarlett one of my pecan pies as a thank you.”
“A thank you for what?” I ask, setting a plate on the counter.
“For makin’ my nephew’s cold, dark heart pitter-patter again. I can tell something’s changed in you,” she says.
“Okay, I don’t want to talk about this. Making breakfast, so I gotta go,” I singsong. “Love you, Millie.”
“Love you more,” she says cheerfully, and I end the call.
I slide the eggs onto the plate. I place the thick slices of buttery toast on the side. I slather homemade strawberry jam on one slice because she liked it so much, and leave the other plain so she can dip her eggs.
When I glance over, I see My Everything on the counter, staring back at me. Millie’s warning echoes in my mind.
Whatever happened in Scarlett’s past, whatever heartache made her stop writing, it’s in those pages. I have to read it so I can understand why so many people are warning me. First Bailey at the bookstore, then my aunt, and even Scarlett herself.
I’ll read every word. I want to understand what happened so I can guarantee the past won’t repeat itself.
I grab a fork and a napkin with an embroidered red rose, then return to the cottage with food in hand. The morning sun has climbed higher, warming my skin as I cross the stone path toward her.
When I step through the door, Scarlett’s typing away at the desk, her back slightly hunched, fingertips flying over the keyboard. She’s fully immersed, eyes fixed on the screen with intense concentration between her brows.
It’s captivating to see her so utterly lost in the world she’s creating.
I place the food beside her, careful not to disrupt her. She pauses briefly, glancing up with lifted brows that are followed by a smirk.
“Breakfast, as promised,” I whisper. She leans into my closeness, her warmth seeping into my skin.
“Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” Her fingers hover above the keys.
“No need. What’s your word count?” I ask from behind her. My lips brush against her hair as I glance at her screen.
She gives me a satisfied smirk. “Three hundred forty-two. Almost there.”
I chuckle, squeezing her shoulder before stepping back. “Text me when you hit one thousand. I’ll be waiting. Deadlines first.”
Scarlett’s eyes dance over me playfully, cheeks flushing. “You might create a monster.”
“Or you might be more productive than ever before.” I walk toward the door, letting her return to her fictional world.
She stops typing. “I have a high sex drive, and no man has ever been able to fulfill it.”
“Challenge accepted,” I say as I open, then shut the door behind me.
We’re tumbling out of control, and I welcome it.
I walk across the yard and return to my kitchen to prepare the same breakfast for myself. As the eggs sizzle, I pour a cup of coffee and blow on it before taking a sip. After I plate my food, I carefully pick up the book, tracing my fingers along the edges.
It feels intimate, like I’m holding a private part of Scarlett that she approved me to read.
After a deep breath, I open the book to the dedication.
For those who were crushed but never destroyed.
You survived. I’m proud of you.
I begin reading, knowing I’ll find her in these pages—the woman she’s been, and the scars she still carries.
The first few lines draw me in. Scarlett’s voice is engaging, impossible to resist. Her characters come alive. It’s easy to see why readers fall in love with her stories. I’m just a few paragraphs in, and I’m already hooked.
Romance isn’t my genre of choice, but I’m intrigued.
The protagonist, a woman named Ava, seems familiar with how carefully she guards herself, yet she keeps a hopeful heart.
I pause, already seeing how much of Scarlett is woven into this character.
Her humor and her vulnerability are undeniable.
By the time I’m turning to chapter three, Ava doesn’t feel like she’ll ever be enough for anyone, especially the man she’s in love with.
My coffee cools beside me as the story puts a chokehold on me.
The love interest is charming and attentive, precisely the type of man who could sweep any woman off her feet.
But beneath the charm, Scarlett masterfully layers subtle flaws.
She notices his too-perfect smile, his hidden insecurities, and even recognizes his habit of holding back emotions.
He gives her just enough to keep her guessing about their relationship and if what they have is real.
The tension builds, and I grow anxious as I turn the pages.
I’m waiting for the moment when Ava’s heart shatters, knowing it will.
And when the first betrayal comes, it’s cruel and sudden and unexpected.
Anger twists hot in my stomach. Ava discovers another woman, secrets her fiancé kept, and promises he broke.
I feel Scarlett’s pain bleeding onto the pages.
When she catches him cheating again, I have to stop reading.
My jaw tightens, frustration and protectiveness mixing into something raw.
Whoever this man was, he didn’t just break Scarlett’s heart.
He tried to destroy her belief in love itself.
He dimmed her ability to trust, to write, to share herself openly with the world.
If this book was based on her ex, he deserved every fucking terrible thing said about him online.
Scarlett deserves someone who can hold her broken pieces without being afraid of getting cut, someone who can help her rebuild what was lost.
My phone buzzes beside me. My heart skips when I see her name on the screen.
Scarlett
One thousand words! Pay up!
Ezra
Okay, just so you know, I’m putting my book away for you.
Scarlett
Watch out. That might be love.
When I open the cottage door this time, Scarlett stands by the desk, leaning casually against its edge. Her laptop sits open behind her. The teasing confidence in her eyes tells me she’s ready to collect her reward.
“One thousand exactly?” I ask, stepping inside and shutting the door.
“Well, one thousand sixty-nine,” she confirms, eyes never leaving mine.
I chuckle at her anticipation, closing the distance between us. I enjoy how her breath hitches as she leans in to kiss me.
“I’m proud of you.”
“I am, too. Thanks for the motivation.”
I tip her jaw upward, and she swallows hard.
“You’re very good for my productivity.”
“Thrilled to help.” My thumb brushes along her lower lip.
She grips my shirt lightly, pulling me closer toward her.
“You’re insatiable,” I mutter.
“Is that a problem?”
“Hell no. It’s very much welcomed.”
Our mouths brush together, tongues teasingly swiping each other’s. I grow hard as our kisses grow more urgent. Desire simmers below the surface as Scarlett pulls away.
“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” she asks, and it’s obvious she’s trying to protect her heart as her hands trail up my stomach.
“No.” I don’t hesitate when I say it. I brush loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Do you?”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I just don’t want to be your regret.”
“That would never happen,” I admit.
“Ezra,” she whispers.
“I’m serious,” I reply. “I can’t explain what you’re doing to me. I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Same,” she confesses. “And it scares the shit out of me.”
“Mm,” I say between capturing her lips. She moans into my mouth. “Be fearless, Scarlett.”
I slide my hand into her panties, enjoying how slick she is for me. As I rub her clit, she wraps her arms around my neck, steadying herself.
“I am,” she says as I slide a finger deep inside her, causing her to gasp.
I slow my pace. “Hearing those cries, feeling you clench around my fingers…Fuck, Scarlett. So damn breathless. Hearing your desire brings me so much fucking pleasure. Love how you surrender to me.”
“Yes. You touch me perfectly. I’m already so close,” she says as I kiss and lick along her neck.
“Don’t you dare come, Scarlett. If you do, I’ll require two thousand words instead of one.”
I give her two digits, going knuckle deep.
She moans.
“Ezra,” she whispers, eyes rolling back as I slow to an agonizing pace. She sinks onto my hand.
“Feels good being suspended on the brink like this, doesn’t it?”
“Mm-hmm,” she breathes out, trembling.
“Any second, I could let you give in.”
“Fuck,” she says, every muscle tense.
She loses her tight control. Her pussy pulses against my fingers as she rides out her orgasm, nearly collapsing. I wrap an arm around her waist, catching her, giving her little clit what it needs.
Scarlett looks up, high with satisfaction, a sleepy smile curving her lips.
“Damn it,” she says, eyes sparkling. “It felt too good.”
“Maybe next time,” I say, placing my fingers in my mouth. “Mm. Love the way you taste.”
“You knew what you were doing.” I can tell she’s enjoying this game. “What have you been up to all morning?”
“Reading your book,” I admit, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as she pulls my cock out of my joggers and strokes me.
“You have work to do,” I remind her.
“It can wait until after this. I’ve been craving you.”
She works me with her mouth and hand, stroking me long and hard.
She moves forward, licking pre-cum off my tip, then taking me back in her mouth, sucking me like I’m her sustenance.
I groan, threading my fingers through her hair, allowing her to take full control of me.
Little pants release from her, encouraging me as she takes me deeper into her throat.
I don’t know how long she works me—five minutes? An eternity? I lose track.
“Fuck,” I whisper, but she continues, relentless.
“Mm-hmm,” she says around my cock, looking up into my eyes. As we stare at one another, I can almost imagine an entire lifetime with her. The look on her face has me convinced that she’s reading my mind.
“I’m so close,” I mutter.
I tighten my hand in her hair as my balls tighten. Then, I crash over the edge, nearly seeing white as I pump into her mouth. Now I’m the one who nearly collapses. Being with her is an out-of-body experience, and I feel like she just sucked my fucking soul from my body.
She swallows me down, every last drop. I help her to her feet, and she leads me to the bed.
“Can I get ten minutes of snuggles?” she asks.
“Of course,” I tell her, lying on the bed, and she climbs into my arms as I come down from my high.
“So, about my book…what do you think so far?”
“I had to stop reading it,” I say, not sure why I admitted that.
She sighs, her face inches from mine, green eyes studying me. “That bad?”
“It’s brilliant. I was livid. I could barely handle how angry reading it made me.”
She nods. “That’s the consensus.”
“Was it that bad?” I ask.
“Worse,” she says. “Much worse. I went so easy on him.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, running my fingers through her hair, and she relaxes against me while drawing invisible circles on my chest with her finger.
She hesitates, taking a breath. “Writing was the way I coped with very real things in my life. It was never supposed to be my job or something thousands of people read. It was my escape. Now, there’s all this pressure.”
“I can see how that would be hard. Do you love it?”
“Obsessed,” she admits. “Being here, I feel like I found a part of me I lost years ago.”
I read between the lines.
“I’m on chapter ten,” I say.
She makes a face. “Oh, yikes. Good luck.”
I groan. “I’m already pissed.”
“Don’t be. Know that all of that led me here.” Tension eases from her shoulders. “I used to believe pain was necessary to create meaningful art.” She pauses, vulnerability and hope in her eyes. “Now, I think the real magic happens when I’m happy.”
“Are you?” I hold her a little tighter.
“I am,” she says. “I feel free.”
“I know what you mean.”
She smiles. “Also, I don’t know how you do that.”
“What?”
“Bring out the best in me in every way,” she whispers.
“You flatter me, Scarlett Collins,” I say, and she laughs.
“It’s been ten minutes,” I tell her.
She doesn’t let go of me. “Just a little longer.”
“Just think, I’ll see you again in two thousand words.”
“I can dictate five thousand words per hour.”
“Prove it,” I urge. “Exhaust me.”
“I’m going to,” she says. “Thank you for constantly refilling my creative well.”
“The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” I grin, realizing just how quickly she’s embedding herself into my life and how much I want to keep her in it.