Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Melody had been buzzing with excitement and nerves ever since the new agreement with Carlisle Publishing had injected fresh energy into their work. Getting to this point, however, hadn't been straightforward.
Earlier that week, Nate had attempted to set up a dinner meeting to discuss some big news, but every attempt seemed to be thwarted by the universe.
First, a sudden storm knocked out the power in Melody's neighborhood, making it impossible for her to leave her apartment.
Then, when they rescheduled for the next day, Nate got stuck in back-to-back meetings that ran late into the evening.
Every time they tried to align their schedules, something came up.
But Melody wasn't about to let these setbacks deter her.
She had heard through the grapevine about the new arrangement for her book, and she wasn't going to wait any longer to get the details. So, she decided to take matters into her own hands and showed up at Nate's office under the pretense of making revisions to the book.
At the Carlisle Publishing offices on a particularly late Tuesday evening, Melody knocked on Nate's office door, hearing his muffled "Come in!"
She pushed it open, greeted by the sight of a suited Nate hunched over his desk, surrounded by a fortress of coffee cups and sticky notes.
"Wow, Carlisle," Melody quipped, setting her bag down. "I see the 'disheveled genius' look is really working for you."
Nate looked up, a grin spreading across his stubbled jaw. "Ah, Archer. Here to critique my fashion choices or actually do some work?"
Melody plopped down in the chair across from him, spreading her manuscript on his desk. "Multitasking, obviously. I'm very talented."
They dove into work, their banter flowing as easily as their ideas. Hours passed in a blur of red pen marks and heated debates over comma placement.
"No, Nate," Melody argued, jabbing her finger at a paragraph. "The semicolon stays. It's crucial to the rhythm of the sentence."
Nate rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Fine, keep your precious semicolon. But don't come crying to me when the critics call your prose 'needlessly punctuated.'"
"How dare you! My punctuation is a work of art."
As they worked, Melody couldn’t help but notice how synced they'd become. Nate anticipated her thoughts before she voiced them, and she found herself finishing his sentences.
They were deep in discussion about a particularly tricky plot point when Nate suddenly jumped up. "I've got it!" he exclaimed, rushing to the whiteboard.
Melody watched, amused, as he scribbled furiously, his enthusiasm infectious. When he stepped back, revealing a complex web of character relationships and plot threads, she felt a surge of excitement.
"Nate, that's brilliant!" she said, joining him at the board. "If we connect these two subplots here," she added, grabbing a marker and drawing a line, "it'll add a whole new layer of depth to the story."
Their hands brushed as they both reached for the eraser, and suddenly Melody was acutely aware of how close they were standing. She could smell Nate’s subtle, woodsy scent that makes my head spin.
"Melody," he said, his voice low and husky.
He clearly could see the effect he had on her, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly. The man knew he was so damn sexy sometimes she couldn't see straight.
Then he cleared his throat, stepping back. "We, uh, we should probably get back to work."
Melody nodded, and they returned to the manuscript, but the atmosphere had shifted. Every accidental touch felt charged, every shared glance loaded with something unsaid.
As the evening wore on, they made significant progress. The story was tighter, the characters more vibrant. They were both riding high on the success.
"We did it!" Melody exclaimed as they finished the final chapter. Without thinking, she threw her arms around Nate in a celebratory hug.
He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his arms wrapping around her. She could feel the solid, hard warmth of his body against hers, and it sent a jolt of desire through her.
When they pulled apart, Nate's eyes were already on her face. "Melody," he breathed, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
This time, she didn't hesitate. She surged forward, pressing her lips to his in a searing kiss.
Nate responded immediately, his arms tightening around her as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped slowly between the seam of her lips, and she sucked on it, feeling him moan.
When they finally came up for air, Nate rested his forehead against hers. "We shouldn't be doing this," he murmured, even as his hands roamed her back.
"Probably not. Want to stop?"
In answer, Nate captured her lips again, walking her backward until she bumped into his desk. With a swift motion, he swept the papers aside, lifting her onto the polished surface.
Melody wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "You know," she gasped between kisses, "this is very cliché. Editor and author, getting it on in the office."
Nate grinned against her neck. "I thought you liked subverting clichés, Archer."
"Oh, I do," she purred, her hands making quick work of his shirt buttons. "So subvert away, Carlisle."
His shirt fell open, revealing the hard planes of his chest. She ran her hands over his muscles, feeling them flex under her touch.
“I don’t think I’ve wanted anything as much as I want you, Nate," she murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to his chest.
He groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as she trailed kisses down his stomach. "Melody, you're driving me crazy," he growled.
She looked up at him, a wicked smile on her lips. "That's the idea." She unbuckled his belt, slowly pulling it through the loops. His breath hitched as she popped the button on his pants, drawing down the zipper.
His erection strained against his dark slacks, and she ran her hand over the length of him, feeling him throb under her touch. "Commando, Nate?" she teased, looking up at him.
He smirked. "Easy access."
She laughed, a low, throaty sound, as she pulled him free, wrapping her hand around the velvety smoothness.
Nate's head fell back, a low groan rolling past his lips. “Hell, Melody, that feels so good."
She leaned in, running her tongue along the length of him, feeling him pulse in her hand. She took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the sensitive tip.
"Jesus, Mel," he grunted, his voice ragged. "You're going to make me come if you keep that up."
She pulled back, looking up at him with a wicked grin. "Can't have that just yet," she said, standing up and pushing him back onto the leather couch in the corner of his gigantic office.
The smooth fabric of the leather was cool against his back as she straddled him, feeling his hardness press against her through the cotton lining of her dress.
She ground against him, feeling the friction build between them, and Nate reached up, pulling down the straps of her dress, revealing her lace bra.
His dark lashes lowered as he took in the sight of her. "You're so beautiful, Melody," he murmured, reaching up to cup her breasts.
She leaned into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as he ran his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She reached behind her, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor.
Nate's hands were on her instantly, his mouth capturing one blush-colored nipple, as she reached down, pushing her dress up and out of the way, revealing the lace thong she wore just for him.
To see him come apart—eyes hooded, jaw working—was a magic every woman deserved to possess.
To have a gorgeous man nearly broken at just the sight of your fuller, more stretch mark-lined body.
“God, Mel,” he growled, his voice low and hungry. "You're so sexy."
Bolder than she’d ever been, she smiled, leaning down to capture his lips in a fierce kiss. "And you're overdressed," she murmured against his lips, pushing his pants down and out of the way.
He kicked them off, his hands roaming her body, touching, teasing, driving her wild. His hard length pressed between her legs, creating friction.
Until Nate stopped, his gaze diverting.
The words “condom” and “desk drawer” sent Melody to her feet—scrambling.
A few steps later, and she was fishing out a foil packet from one of the compartments. Nate was quick to take it from her, tearing it open and rolling the condom on.
Melody watched, in awe of how much she wanted him. How much her body buzzed just by being near Nate.
The buzz became a literal vibration seconds later, when she finally sank down onto him, feeling him fill her.
She watched the line of his long neck work as he swallowed. As she rode him slowly at first, feeling every inch of him as she rose up and sank back down onto him. Over and over again.
Leaning down, she captured his lips in a hungry kiss, and he kissed her back, his tongue tangling with hers, his teeth nipping at her lips.
She sat up, her hands braced on his chest, feeling his muscles flex under her touch. She soaked in every ounce of contact she could manage, driving them both higher and higher until the ground was barely beneath them.
It was perfect. He was perfect. This…was perfect.
And in her heart, she knew she had never felt this connection with any other man. That no other man walking this earth had made her feel the emotions, the pull, the need that Nate Carlisle had invoked in her
“Oh God, Nate," she gasped, her head falling back, her body tensing as she felt her orgasm building. "I think I’m going to…I want to…”
Nate sat up, his arms wrapping around her, his lips capturing hers once again. “That’s it, sweetheart. Don’t hold back.”
Nate's body tensed, and they rode out their orgasms together, their bodies shaking, their breaths coming in choking gasps and satisfied sobs.
As they came down from their high, Melody collapsed against him, and his arms instantly wrapped around her. They held her close, as they lay there for a moment, their bodies still joined, hearts still attempting to escape their chests.
She was trapped—stuck in a body that wouldn’t dare to move from this plane of ecstasy.
Minutes felt like nothing. Time didn’t even exist anymore.
She didn’t realize that she was nearly asleep until Nate spoke again, murmuring near her ear.
“I’m done…” he exhaled.
She frowned. “Done what exactly?”
“Trying to resist you. Every time I do, I wind up worse than when I started.”
“Nice. Remind me to use that line in the manuscript.”
“If we ever finish it at this rate…”
“Oh come on,” she teased, her fingernail circling the surface of his hard chest, "I'd say that was a successful editing session."
Nate chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into her. "Very thorough. I especially enjoyed your hands-on approach to character development."
She propped herself up, grinning down at him. "Oh? And which character were you developing, exactly?"
"I was thinking we could workshop the male lead. He seems a bit... stiff."
"Stiff? Really? That's the best you can do?"
He shrugged, pulling her back down for a kiss. "Cut me some slack. You've thoroughly scrambled my brain."
As they lay there, trading lazy kisses and terrible puns, Melody felt a sense of contentment she had never experienced before. It wasn't just physical satisfaction—though that was certainly part of it. It was a deeper connection, a meeting of minds and hearts.
But as the afterglow faded, reality started to creep back in. What did this mean for them? For their working relationship? For the book?
Seemingly hearing her thoughts, Nate tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We'll figure it out," he murmured. "Together."
She nodded, and she pushed her worries aside for now. They had overcome so much already—surely they could handle this new development.
As they reluctantly disentangled themselves and started to dress, the stirrings of panic began to swell inside his chest.
But looking at Nate, seeing the warmth and affection in his eyes, the fear she thought she’d feel didn’t come.
Now they just had to figure out how to explain the, uh, creative process behind their latest revisions to the board. Something told her "We keep getting kinda naked in Nate’s office for research purposes" might not go over too well.
Oh well. They were writers. They would come up with a good story.