Page 66 of Royal Charmer
Chapter Seventeen
Alice
I spent the last three days in a marathon writing session, and I’m thrilled to have my story in a good place. First draft done! I can breathe now. Yay me! I did it! I met my deadline. I smile to myself, click save once more for good luck, and close out of the document. Then I click on my email and send it off to my editor and cc her boss. Of course, that’s not the final version, but the shape of it is there. Author job secured. Well, it will be once I turn in the final draft in four weeks.
I stand and stretch; then I walk over to the bed, spread my arms wide, and fall back on it. Ahh. It’s Saturday night. I should pack for my London book signing tomorrow, but I’m just going to enjoy my moment. Nothing beats finishing a first draft. Other than typingThe End, that is. I save that for the final version.
Oh, I should text Quinn the good news! I scoot up toward the nightstand, grab my phone and text her.First draft is done! Just emailed it to you.
Quinn replies a moment later. It’s still early in New York.Got it! I’ll read it this weekend.
Be gentle, okay? It’s not pretty.Normally, she only sees the final version, but my extremely late deadline made the publisher nervous. I have to send the first draft and the final draft to keep my contract. Right now, my story is an ill-behaved ugly thing, but it’smyill-behaved ugly thing. Only I can truly love it.
Quinn:I won’t even comment. I’ll just read.
I smile and text back a quick “thanks” with a cute emoji of a smiley face with black glasses like me.
She responds with multiple book emojis in a row, which is the only emoji she ever uses. Quinn is a very dignified, sophisticated fifty-something New Yorker, after all. Ha-ha. I had to show her the book emoji, but she really took to it.
I let out a happy sigh. Then I text Lucas.I finished my draft! Could you play with my hair and call me darling?
Be right there.
I smile. He doesn’t even bat an eye at my request. I asked him to play with my hair a few nights ago when I was still fresh from the Mason-Riley confrontation or, as I’m now calling it, The Badass Show. Even a badass enjoys the soothing pleasure of having her hair played with. Lucas was new to the concept but took to it beautifully. And now that we’re done playing the fake fiancée game, I asked him to put my ruby ring back in the vault, where it belongs. I confess it’s a relief. Once real feelings got involved, the engagement part made me feel panicky. I’m just not ready. Only two weeks ago, I was supposed to be walking down the aisle with another man.
I sit up. I’m still in my pajamas—a loose sleep shirt and shorts. Maybe I should try to look presentable. Of course, the last few nights when I texted Lucas to visit, it was past midnight and I was already in bed in my pajamas, so it’s not like he hasn’t seen me like this. Though he stripped me out of my pajamas almost as soon as he got in bed. But tonight it’s earlier, way before midnight. I head over to the closet, thinking of wearing a dress because I might actually leave my writing cave. It’s Saturday and I’ve basically been holed up here since Wednesday.
I pick out a light blue wrap dress that brings out my eyes, toss it on the bed, and decide I should shower as well. I already did this morning, but I was in too much of a hurry to wash my hair. I text Lucas my plans so he’ll know I need some extra time. Three dots appear like he’s typing, and then a moment later, I’m staring at the unexpected.
I’m the one who plays with your hair, so I should be the one who washes it.
My pulse thrums through my veins. This will be a first. Lucas has still been asleep when I’ve had my morning shower. When I’ve got a story burning through me, I get up early, my mind a cacophony of character voices needing to be part of things. I always honor that gift by typing out what I hear immediately, but then it doesn’t always fall in place in the story right away, so I shower, caffeinate, and return to them. All that to say, shower sex is new to me with Lucas, with anyone. Not that I haven’t imagined it. My ex wouldn’t even try because he thought he might get chilly if I took up all the space under the showerhead.He’s all yours, Riley!
I try to come up with something suitably sexy to text back in response, but I’m so busy picturing exactly how this is going to work that I don’t quite get to it. The thing is, it’s a one-person shower, though there is a bench and a handheld sprayer thingy, so I could straddle him on the bench or maybe I could stand with him behind me or, knowing Lucas, he’ll want to show off his strength and lift me for standing sex, but I’ll worry about his back that way. As strong as he is, I’m not that light. Hmmm, I need a visual.
I set my phone back on the nightstand, march into the bathroom, and eye the shower. Maybe I should get it started so it’s nice and steamy in there. The last thing I want is to hear Lucas complain about getting chilly, like some wimps I know. I turn on the water and resume my shower sexual-positioning scenarios. That handheld shower thingy has real possibilities. What if—
“Darling.”
I jump and whirl to face him, my hand at my throat. “Lucas! You scared me! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
He laughs. “I didn’t sneak. I knocked on the bedroom door, you didn’t hear me, then I called your name on my way in here.” His lips curve into a knowing smirk. “What were you imagining in that dirty mind of yours?”
I smooth my hair, feigning innocence. “Who said I was imagining dirty things?”
He pulls me into his arms, his hand sliding under my hair to cup the back of my neck. His words run hot over my lips. “When are you not imagining dirty things?”
I don’t answer because I want his kiss more than I want to pretend I was innocently preparing a shower. Instead I wrap my arms around his waist and tip my face up to his.
He smiles against my lips and then he kisses me, gently at first, a soft brush back and forth, a teasing invitation. I open for him on a sigh, and he deepens the kiss, his large hand splayed on the small of my back, his fingers heating my skin through the thin fabric of my sleep shirt. My knees go weak, and I wrap my arms around his neck, melting against him, lost in the haze of a drugging passionate kiss.
He becomes more aggressive, wrapping my hair around his fist, his mouth hungry, his hand sliding to my ass, pressing me firmly against him in a hold that saysyou’re mine. He wants to possess me, keep me, make me his forever. I see it in his smoldering eyes, feel it in his heated touch, hear it in his gravelly voice. And I give him as much as I can. I hold back nothing, but I don’t promise forever. And he doesn’t ask.
He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. “Take off your clothes.” His voice holds the soft edge of authority.
I hand him my glasses, strip off my sleep shirt, and take my glasses back, holding both shirt and glasses. “You’re my first shower sex.”
His smile lights up his face. “Is that so?”
