Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Davin cued the movie, and he and Chloe sat down on the couch to watch the recent finale of the Mission Impossible series.
He appreciated that the writers tied in the angle of Ethan always sacrificing the greater good of humanity for the people he loved most. He enjoyed the nonstop action, the banter, and the team, but he felt the movie was overdone and there were overly pregnant pauses.
It was more unrealistic than even the other MI movies and dragged on far too long. Especially the scuba diving scene.
He’d never get away with such impossible stunts in his books.
The laws of nature and his own and his readers’ impatience would’ve drowned Ethan thirty minutes before the scene ended.
Then to get through Ethan and Grace snuggling in the hyperbaric chamber for who knows how long as she brought him back from hypothermia and to not even share a kiss …
Even in his lack of romance incorporation, he thought that was a fail.
Far worse than the disappointing finale and three hours of his life he’d never get back, there was a foot of distance between himself and Chloe on the couch.
He was clueless how to close that gap. He was a thirty-two-year-old successful author who was completely ignorant and pathetic where women were concerned.
That had upset his mother but never bothered him too deeply, until he had a woman like Chloe in his life.
The credits finally rolled. Davin pushed the power button and the room was dark and quiet, with only the decorative lights over the cabinets giving a soft ambient light.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“Far too long, overdone, and unrealistic,” she said. “The only thing I liked was the action and the banter between the team.”
“I’m with you.” They could discuss the movie at length, later. He let the silence settle. The darkened setting seemed perfect for ‘romance’. Was he brave enough to try to touch her, or even better kiss her? What if Chloe rejected him and they had awkwardness between them from here on out?
Chloe stood and stretched. He couldn’t look away. He straightened and stepped close to her, savoring her light vanilla scent.
She lowered her arms to her sides and the pulse in her neck took off at record speed. Did he dare take this chance?
“The reason I tried a romance angle with Lemmon and Dresden was because you’ve asked me why there’s no romance in my books.
” He shifted his weight and studied the fireplace mantle, afraid his words were not fitting for the moment and seemingly coming out of nowhere.
“I wanted to see if I could … add some in one of my future novels.”
“Obviously Lemmon and Dresden weren’t ready for the progression.
” Her voice had a teasing lilt, but was she saying she wasn’t ready?
He often read meaning into dialogue or movements or looks that weren’t meant to be anything but straightforward.
Part of his years of writing about such things.
Was he doing that now, or was she trying to give him a hint to keep their relationship as it was?
He focused on her. Her green eyes were full of warmth and… could that be longing? Maybe she meant she was ready for progression in their relationship.
“I’ve never had a desire to weave a romance angle into my plot before,” he said softly, testing the waters. “But I find myself almost desperate to include such a thread now.”
“Oh?” Her brows arched up. “Wow. Good luck with that. Let me know if I can help.”
He stepped a bit closer. “I think you could help right now.”
“I’d love to. What can I do for you, oh action adventure author extraordinaire who stinks at romance subplots?”
He chuckled but prayed he didn’t stink at romance in real life, at least not with her. She said she’d love to help him. Chloe was a naturally helpful person, but was there a deeper meaning here? She’d love to help him as they discovered romance together?
“Would it be out of line,” he asked in a croaky, uncomfortable voice, shifting his weight and rubbing at his neck, “to have you show me some ideas?”
“Show you?” She arched an eyebrow. “Or talk them through?”
“Show, don’t tell,” he reaffirmed, grateful he hadn’t backed down given the opportunity. “Work with me on developing them.”
He was proud he hadn’t added ‘for my characters’.
Her pulse skyrocketed. He could see it through the smooth skin on her neck. She had to know how he longed for her. He experienced a newfound desire, a yearning to trace his fingertip across her pulse point.
Instead of balking at such a thought, he acted on it. Davin Ambrose, formerly introverted author, reached up and trailed his fingertip across that throbbing vein, stunned by the softness of her skin. Touching her bonded them together like nothing he’d ever felt before.
Chloe quivered visibly and moistened her lips.
Every cell in his body revved up. He was going to be daring and kiss the woman he wanted to date …
tonight. Was that wrong to kiss her before they’d gone on an official date?
He forced himself not to second guess the rules and to simply move forward with what felt right.
“Can you show me romantic moves for my characters?” he whispered, not wanting to break the spell between them.
Miraculously, his request and his soft voice seemed to make her even more susceptible to him. She leaned closer and repeated, “I’d love to.”
He grinned.
“First of all,” she said in a soft, quivery voice.
His grin widened. He loved that she was returning to their banter from earlier.
“First of all?” he prompted. “I’m happy to hear that, because it means there will be a second and third.”
“’You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?’” she quoted Vizzini from The Princess Bride.
He chuckled.
She smiled and then focused on him with more gold in her eyes than green. “You running your fingertips along my pulse point was brilliant,” she said quietly. “Use that for sure.”
“All right.” He would use it, right now, to his advantage with her.
He repeated the action, a thrill tracing through him as he slowly skimmed his fingers across her pulse point.
He didn’t stop but fanned his fingers across her neck and trailed them behind her neck to lightly cup the back of her head.
She swallowed and nodded. “Very good. Perfect, actually. And the look in your eyes is also spot on. Thrilling.”
“What look is that?” he asked, his throat thick and his voice full of gravel. Maybe he wasn’t as awkward as he feared.
“You look as if I’m the only woman you’ve ever wanted to be close to.”
Because that was the truth.
Instead of admitting to that, he simply nodded. His left hand lifted and instinctively cupped her smooth waist and hip. Without even thinking of it, his thumb traced across her hip bone and made her let out a soft moan that filled him with heat.
“Oh,” she said in an adorable tone of surprise, even though her voice was still low. “Yes. That feels … perfect.” She studied him, as if looking for plots in his story. “Maybe you don’t need my help, action adventure author extraordinaire who excels at romance … in real life.”
“I don’t excel at romance in real life,” he admitted, surprised she didn’t know that. “I need your help. Right now. ‘I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse’.”
He could not lose this momentum now that he’d finally gotten the ball rolling. Chloe had no idea how desperately he needed her help, needed her in his life, in his heart, in his arms. How could he express that without sounding like a cheeseball simp?
“All right,” she said, smiling at his quote.
“Shouldn’t you be … touching me too?” His voice went deeper, and he could’ve melted into a puddle of humiliation. He held his posture erect and held her gaze, no matter how hard it was to do so.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Ambrose? Can you handle that much contact?”
She smirked, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Yes, he would like that. In fact, he longed to feel her hands on him. He hoped he could ‘handle’ it.
“It’s important for the research,” he reminded her, and then cussed himself.
“Ah, the research.” She looked through him. She had to know the research was only a weak excuse. “All right then.”
She lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders.
While maintaining eye contact, she ran her hands across the muscles of his shoulders, up the back of his neck, and threaded them around his neck.
He could hardly catch a breath. Her fingertips trailed through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp and making him tingle.
He’d never tingled. What a unique and exciting feeling. She was an expert at touching, apparently.
“Thank you,” he managed. “I enjoyed that.” Enjoyed? He was in heaven. Why couldn’t he be more verbose and romantic? Those descriptors had never fit him, but he wanted to be more over the top than Mission Impossible was, but in romance with Chloe, not unrealistic action sequences.
“And now?” he asked.
“Now we edge a little closer,” she said. “The first rule of romance … you don’t talk about the romance.”
He laughed at the twist on Fight Club.
“Don’t disturb the romance building between us.” She winked as if she was teasing.
He wasn’t teasing at all. This was as important and serious to him as becoming a New York Times bestseller had been eight years ago.
They each subtly shifted their feet and edged closer. There were still a few inches between them, but he could feel her, smell her, see the gold in her green eyes. Every aspect of Chloe thrilled him and tugged him in.
“I like the subtlety of that,” he said.
“You’re doing fabulous.”
He knew she was being generous, as was her nature, but he felt fabulous.
A few beats passed as their gazes interlocked and he trailed his fingertips along the back of her head and she returned the pleasure, the soft pads of her fingers and her rounded nail tips lightly massaging his scalp.
He’d had no idea the scalp was so sensitive and that touching it could be so invigorating.
Her hair felt like silk against his hands.
“What’s next?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t ruining the moment. It was more tenuous than romancing his muse when he wrote. He didn’t want to draw too much attention or ignore something important. He wanted to luxuriate in her presence.
“You slide your left hand from my waist around to the small of my back and lift me closer to you.”
He happily complied. Her soft curves brushed against him, and he forgot how to breathe.
“Now you use gentle pressure with your hand on the back of my head to align our mouths and bring me within centimeters of your lips,” she instructed. “Your touch and the look in your eyes will fill me with yearning to have your mouth capture mine.”
His mouth was so dry he had to moisten it and swallow. She wanted to kiss him. He was going to float off the floor or have a heart attack.
“You should write romance novels,” he croaked out.
She smiled but didn’t move. “I’ll leave the writing of the romance to you.”
“We’ll see.”
“You’re not going to incorporate romance into your books?”
“You know me,” he said softly, loving that she did know him, as well as anyone but his own family. “I have to become proficient in something to write about it. You may have an infinite amount of instruction time in your future. If you’re willing.”
She drew in a quick breath and said, “I could be persuaded to help you out.”
“Thank heaven above.”
She smiled.
“Gentle pressure?” he asked, the anticipation of their lips meshing together filling him.
“Yes, sir.”
He did as instructed, using his palm and fingers on the back of her head to align their lips and bring her a breath away. Her breath warmed his mouth. His insides swirled with longing.
“Yearning?” he whispered.
“Yearning,” she agreed.
His heart threatened to leap from his chest. He savored each sensation she produced in him. He didn’t even try to catalog any of the emotion or overwhelming of his senses for later use in his books. He didn’t know that he’d ever write romance. He’d much rather be a willing participant, with Chloe.
“And now?” he whispered against her lips.
“Now the hero claims the heroine’s mouth with his own.”
He arched his brows and grinned. “That sounds like the most spectacular part.”
“It will be.”
Joy and warmth overwhelmed him as their lips met and sparks seemed to crackle in the air around them.
A bright light beamed through the front windows and the glass front door.
Davin was still lost in the sweet kiss with Chloe.
He blinked and looked around to get his bearings in the real world.
“Motion sensor lights,” he muttered. He whirled and placed himself in front of her to face the threat. “Stay here. Call 911.”
“Davin.” She reached for him, but he couldn’t be distracted. He had to catch whoever was out there. He rushed through the living area and for the front door.
Unlocking it, he turned to her. “Lock this behind me.”
Then he slipped through and spotted a person lurking just outside the bright light of the motion sensor beam and the front porch and garage lights.
Hurrying toward the skulker, he prayed this was the person who’d knocked out Chloe. Yet if he caught the perpetrator, what excuse would he have to keep Chloe here, and keep practicing romance?
He had to push those concerns from his mind as he wondered who he would encounter and prayed they weren’t armed. It was crazy to rush at a potentially dangerous assailant. Maybe he should turn around and wait for the sheriff, but he didn’t want to let the perpetrator get away.
Foolhardy as it was, he was going to play the hero and attack the attacker.