11. Chapter 11
It’s been a productive two weeks. I finally feel good about the direction of my book, although it’s not anything like my usual stories. This is decidedly more romance-driven than I’ve ever done before, but I’m liking it.
It’s also scary as hell because I have no idea what the reception will be.
But I’ll deal with that later because, right now, I’m actually on track to hitting my deadline.
Could it have something to do with the startling clarity I’ve had since Oakley and I started sleeping together? Possibly, but I’m not going to analyze it at the moment.
The sex, though? Mind-bending. I didn’t know sex could be this good, or that I could shut my brain long enough to enjoy the hell out of it. But Oakley isn’t your average man either. For as sweet, unassuming, and gentlemanly as he is, he is dominant as shit in the bedroom.
We’ve been playing with restraints mostly, and I have to say it’s not something I thought I would personally enjoy, but now? Now, I can’t imagine sex another way.
Shit, am I going to be able to have sex with men who don’t do that?
Do I want to?
The thought rings out so loudly in my mind it scares me. Because I don’t want to do this with anyone else. I just want James.
Tipping my head back, I let out a sigh. This isn’t something I should be thinking about now. Hell, probably ever. Right now, I need to focus on my book, and whatever comes next between the two of us is something I’ll figure out after I write “The End”.
The smell of freshly made espresso permeates my turbulent thoughts, turning my focus to the very man who’s causing the turmoil in my head.
James fucking Oakley.
He’s dressed in his usual distressed jeans, and a T-shirt that fits his upper body like a glove and also showcases the artwork I’ve spent hours studying upstairs in his apartment. I did learn that he got his sleeve because he loved the artist and wanted it on his body. It’s why he doesn’t have more, and it just adds another layer to this very complex man.
I follow him with my eyes as he finishes up a drink and then turns around, giving me his back and making a panini. I’ve had to stop coming here early to write because I haven’t been getting much done in his presence. My routine now is staying home in the morning, writing my ass off, then making my way to Grind Time an hour or two before closing time so we can take things upstairs.
And by things, I mean sex. Because although we talk and I brainstorm with him, there is no writing.
But there are a shit-ton of orgasms.
You win some, you lose some, and I’m still on pace to finishing this damn book, so that’s all that matters, right?
God, I don’t even know anymore. I feel like I’m living two very different lives right now, and I know at some point this will all catch up with me. But I can’t dwell on that or I’ll never finish this book, and then I’ll have to think about where James and I are heading, and that’s too scary to consider at the moment.
My eyes follow Oakley as he makes his way around the counter, taking a direct path to me.
“Hey there, gorgeous. You haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” he asks, setting down my usual latte and a chicken pesto panini. I look around, seeing the place is empty—thank God, because I don’t want people speculating about my sex life.
I think I might be in so much trouble with this man.
“I have not. Thank you so much.” Anxiety courses through me, trying to make sure I’m maintaining a correct level of disconnect from him while also wanting him so fucking bad. And then there’s the fact that he feeds me every single day. Quietly making sure I’m taking care of myself and fueling my coffee addiction at the same time.
My panicked thoughts must be broadcasting all over my face because Oakley immediately starts grabbing the plate.
“You don’t want pesto chicken. What are you in the mood for?” he asks quickly.
“No, no, this is perfect, I promise! I’m just a little too in my head at the moment.”
His eyes darken, and a sly smirk takes over his concerned features.
“No! Seriously, I need to get more work done today. I’m behind on my word count goal,” I refute his dirty thoughts.
“Can we use it as an incentive, then?”
“’It’ as in, the mind-blowing sex you’ve been giving me every evening?” I smirk.
“That’d be the one, yes.”
God, he has no shame.
I pretend to think about, like it’s such a hardship to have the best sex of my life.
“I guess I can work with that.”
He rolls his eyes at my smart-ass retort, and I can’t help but laugh. We both know I’m going to cave every single time. It’s just a matter of actually finishing my work today.
“Can I help with anything?” He nods to my laptop, and I arch my eyebrow at him. “No, seriously, no sex distraction. I’m genuinely trying to help this time.” He chuckles.
I let out a sigh. “I’m stuck.” He waits patiently for me to continue. “Well, I have Charlie and Niya screwing, but I’m feeling like it’s not actually progressing the story. She hasn’t given him any new information in a while, and he’s just killing away, acting oblivious at work while getting ass on the side. It feels lopsided, like our baker doesn’t really have a huge role in all this yet.”
“Okay, so how do we give her a bigger role? Maybe we make her complicit somehow? Maybe she catches him in the act in the next couple of chapters, and it causes a blow-up of sorts? I mean, how likely is it that our CIA agent just sleeps with her without getting close and hiding the fact that he’s the very killer he’s trying to catch?”
“Hmm,” I hum, thinking on it. It could actually work, and it would shift the story a lot. I wanted to have the Charlie’s the killer reveal as the final twist, but if I go this route, I will need to reveal that sooner rather than later.
“I like it. I would just need to figure out another huge twist toward the end since that was going to be it.”
“Okay, let me think on that.”
I also haven’t missed how he says ”we” like we’re both writing this book. And I guess, in a way, we are. Damn, I might need to give him some credit in this one. The thought makes me smile. I bet he never expected to play such a huge role in a book, let alone one of my books.
I think about the pristine shelf in his apartment that holds all of my books, and it never makes me fail to feel unworthy to have such a special place in his home. As an author, I don’t see fans of my books every day. My siblings don’t count because they feel like they have to like it, but Oakley? Oakley was reading long before our sexcapades started.
“The other thing I’m stuck on is making sure that Charlie’s process makes sense and feels authentic.”
“That, I can definitely help with.” He leans forward.
“How do guys like this plan? Like, how do they figure out their next move because, right now, his shit feels too random, so it’s probably not believable.”
“They usually have a pattern, and a lot of the time it stems from something that they interpreted as wronging them. Like childhood trauma, women turning them down. Obviously, that’s very cliché, but it’s the principle of it. Very few prolific killers do things randomly.”
“Makes sense. What is Tennison’s pattern?” I ask naturally, not even thinking about the impact.
Oakley’s entire body freezes.
“I’m sorry, it was just curiosity. Let’s try and think of something unique for Charlie,” I quickly change the subject. He meets my eyes with relief in them, and I know this is a big part of why Tennison has eluded him and his entire Task Force for so long. Because everything he does feels random. But it’s not random, not to Tennison.
“What about him being more of a vigilante?” he asks.
“Eh, he doesn’t feel like a good guy, though. What if he goes after people for things he perceives as wrong, like being rude or shit-talking? Simple things that shouldn’t bother a person?”
“That could work. I think you need to refine it a little, but I like it being pettier. Makes it feel more extreme.”
“Me too. I’ll think more on it, though.”
The bell above the door dings, pulling Oakley away from me, and I instantly feel lonely. Bad, bad Willow. You aren’t supposed to be doing anything other than sleeping with him.
I snort to myself, barely believing my own lies.
“Well, hey there, stranger.” Rina comes bounding in and sitting at the seat Oakley just vacated.
“I’ve been here every day. I don’t know where you’ve been.” I give her a knowing look. Most likely building furniture and yelling at Arlo, if she’s keeping to pattern.
“Every day?” Her eyebrows shoot up. Damn my big ass mouth around my sister. Now, she’ll be pestering me about Oakley until I die.
“So, how’s Arlo?” I deflect, knowing it’ll piss her off.
“Why are you asking about Arlo?” Lennox asks as he sits down with us.
“No, please, come sit. Let me just move all my shit,” I say sarcastically.
“We aren’t talking about Arlo,” Rina grits out.
“Touchy.” Lennox leans back and takes a huge bite of the sandwich Oakley just dropped off.
James’s gaze catches mine, and I fight like hell to not blush. My eyes shoot down to my plate to break eye contact, realizing I hadn’t eaten the sandwich he made me.
Picking up the half Lennox didn’t steal, I shove a huge bite into my mouth, but it does nothing to dissuade Rina’s all-knowing stare.
“How’s work, Lenny?” Rina decides to ask Lennox instead, and thank God, because I don’t even know what to say about Oakley and me. It’s not like we’ve discussed things in between fucking each other’s brains out.
“Pretty quiet, actually. No animals giving birth, no trouble out on the trails. All has been good, for once.”
“So, no new names to report?” Rina asks, disappointment clear in her tone, and I laugh. Lennox has a history of naming every single animal he comes across, and they are usually ridiculous and immature.
“Nope, it’s your lucky day. You’re saved from making fun of me for one day.” He rolls his eyes.
“It’s still early,” Rina retorts.
“How’s the book coming, Will?” Lennox ignores her.
“It’s going. I’m attempting to work on it, but two of my annoying-as-hell siblings decided to interrupt my flow.” I act like I’m writing, but It’s been a while since I’ve seen them, so secretly, I missed the banter.
“Are you going to finish it on time?” Rina asks with concern.
They really are the best family, plus Ledger, who I haven’t seen in a while outside of family dinner since he and Ainsley got together. But they all know sometimes I hide away, writing day and night to make a deadline, so this isn’t that unusual. What is unusual is spending the same amount of time writing as I am in Oakley’s bed, but they don’t have to know that.
“I think so. It took so long, but I’m finally making good progress. If I stay steady like I have been, I’ll finish on time. It’s going to come down to the wire, though.” I cringe. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to a deadline before, and it’s making me anxious as hell.
“Well, that’s good. If you need help with anything, you know we’re here for you,” Lennox says after he finishes his half of my sandwich. He stands up, tapping Rina’s shoulder as he does. “Let’s go. She needs to work.”
Rina’s motherly stare hits me hard—looking for what, I’m not sure—but Lennox pulls her away before she gains clarity. Lennox throws me a wink before dragging Rina out of Grind Time, and I sink back into my chair.
Lennox and I have always been close, and we only got more so when our parents died when we were in high school. Rina and Ledger took over the parental role, and Lennox and I were left to figure out how to navigate high school with the abrupt loss.
“I just need to close up, and then we can head upstairs if you’re ready?” Oakley’s deep voice cuts into my thoughts.
“Sure. Can I help?”
He shakes his head. “No, just get to a good stopping point with your writing while I wipe shit down.”
It takes fifteen minutes to close up. Once he’s done, he tosses my bag over his shoulder and fireman carries me up the stairs.
“God, I can’t wait to fuck you.” His voice is barely discernible from the whooshing in my head from being upside down. But the only thought in my head is: Me too.