Page 90 of Peaches

I laugh as his hands instantly reach out and he holds me close seconds before he nips at my ear. His chuckle sends goosebumps across my skin as I fall into him and he gently kisses the spot behind my ear, making me dizzy and helpless at his advances.

A noise breaks us apart as we both look up to see Wadsworth standing a few feet away. Yes, I’ve taken to calling him Wadsworth, because Brett is right. It suits him so much better than Fred. He clears his throat and I go to reach for the door handle, to move away from Brett and stop our very public display of affection, but he grabs my face with his hands and forces me to meet his eyes.

“I agree with you, Grace,” he whispers, as he gently places a kiss to my lips. When his eyes open, he stares straight into my startled ones and smiles. “I was wrong. The world does need more steamy sweetness, and I know just the sexy author to give it to them, Peaches.”

He gives me a wink and releases me as he pulls on his door handle and exits the car. My heart soars as I do the same and quickly meet him at the trunk, a bubble of pure excitement bursting inside me.

“Does that mean you trust me to publish what I want, when I want, no strings and conditions attached?”

“Well,” he pauses, as he sets one of our suitcases down at our feet before quickly retrieving the other one. “As long as you use me as your muse. Your very own sweet, steamy, sexy, sinful‘pinch me he can’t be real,’Prince Charming,” I roll my eyes as he laughs in response, “Then I have no choice but to trust you.”

Prince Charming, maybe. As in could charm the panties right off my body with his dirty mouth, immoral carnal cravings, and sinfully chiseled perfect body.

He looks me deep in the eyes as he sets the other bag down and smiles. Leaning in close, he takes my breath away as he whispers, “And besides, if I don’t approve, we both know who’s knee you’ll be bent over as I reprimand you until you get it right. And we both know how much you like it when I find out you’ve been averybad girl. Your sex cursed as I use it for my ownself-gratifyingneeds. A need that’s forever thirsty for yoursweetspot, Peaches.”

Don’t get me wrong, what he just said made me all kinds of a wet puddle of steamy lust at his feet, but there’s something that’s still plaguing me since the start, and like the pusher I am, Ipushback at his chest and look him sternly in the eyes.

“And what about you?”

He raises an eyebrow at me and cocks his gorgeous head to the side, wondering where I am going with this. “Me?”

“Yes, YOU! Mr.BrettlyBeckett.” He gives me a stern, mischievous look, but come on, we all know how much he’s grown to love me calling himBrettly. “Are you ever going to start writing again?”

His look quickly morphs into an anxious, nervous, startled stare, but I lean in closer and pull him against me giving him reassurance as I feel his body slowly start to soften. “You could use me as your muse, too,Sir. Even though I know you don’t do romance!”

A low growl assaults my ears in the most delicious of ways as he leans in closer and eagerly stares in my eyes. “With you as the teacher, Grace, you might just convert me after all.”

“So, is that a yes?” I ask eagerly.

“It’s a ‘we’ll see,’” he smirks with a laugh. “But good thing for you, all that it takes to convince me is a sweet meal full of your delicious, warm, intoxicating peaches.” He grabs me into him and kisses my lips roughly, a laugh escapes my lips as I feel him start to smile against my mouth.

“Mr. Beckett,” the estate’s butler impatiently calls from behind us, and I quietly curse that damn nice man for interrupting us as I pull back and drown in the green of Brett’s eyes.

Breathless. Speechless. Cursed for damn sure, as the same thirst for him rises inside me and I know it will never be quenched.

He holds my stare but I’m still stunned for words, aroused to a painful high I swear I could get off on by just the friction of my thighs alone rubbing together. I watch as he licks his lips and continues to study the erotic way his words are making me lust for him, always him, making me want to purposely screw up, miss my deadline, write a shitty manuscript, all in the name of Brett Beckett’sself-gratifyingpromises.

“Yes, Wadsworth,” Brett says, and I jolt, completely forgetting we aren’t alone.

“Your father wishes to see you, Sir,” he says as Brett finally pulls his eyes from mine and frowns. “We’ve had an unexpected visitor since you’ve been gone. A Ms. Kimberly Walters.”

At that, Brett curses under his breath and I close my eyes sensing an approaching doom that is everything Brett just confessed to me minutes ago. The reason why he doesn’t do romance. All wrapped up in a vindictive, threatening, bubble bursting,predictablepackage. That is the “boy loses girl” predictable, anticipated, fall out that all us romance loving writers and readers love to hate.

I groan in annoyance as my eyes flash open and catch his. He smiles at me gently before taking my hand and leading me towards our quickly approaching doom.

What?

I call it like I see it, and this has all the telling signs of a catastrophic tragedy. Okay, maybe we will end up like Romeo & Juliet after all, I think as I feel my palm begin to sweat in his hand.

“Easy, Grace,” he whispers as we pass Wadsworth and my grip on his hand tightens. “It’s not nearly the disaster you’re dreading when you know it’s coming in the first place.”

24

Grace

I knowwhat you’re thinking.

This bitch…

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