This is the longest twenty-minute car ride of my life. I’m driving myself crazy trying to think of what’s on page ninety-seven. I wrote the book more than three years ago. I’ve written thirteen novels, I don’t remember every word of them. And I certainly don’t remember the page numbers. I can narrow it down a bit since I know which book, and the mere fact that it’s that book only heightens my already humming libido.
Gavin isn’t helping any. He keeps reaching over and touching me in different ways. A grip on my knee. A hand on the nape of my neck. A finger down my arm. By the time we get to the hotel, I’m about ready to climb on his lap like I did eight years ago. It won’t take me long. I only need a few minutes, I’m sure.
He parks the car and reaches over to free my lower lip from my teeth. He leans close and his hot breath washes over me when he says, “If I could be inside your head right now.”
Oh, God.
He leaves me in this state of intense arousal when he exits the car and hurries around the front of it to help me out. “Looks like someone needs to get in there. And fast.” He winks at me.
I roll my eyes at him.
“What?” he says, walking me through the front doors of the hotel. “Are you going to try and tell me your panties aren’t drenched with the anticipation of what I’m about to do to you?”
I look around to make sure nobody heard. Then I quicken my steps, leaving him chuckling behind me.
In the elevator, as soon as the doors close, he quickly pushes me to the back, holding me at arm’s length so we are staring at each other. I turn my head and can see us from every angle, thanks to the mirrored walls. I can see how desperate I look for him. I can see how he is devouring me with his eyes. I can see the erection pressing against his fly. In. Every. Single. Direction.
He watches me looking at us in each mirror. He captures me with his arms, forcefully joining our bodies as he leans down to say, “I’m glad to see you like mirrors.”
Holy God. I know what’s on page ninety-seven. I can’t decide if the ride to the third floor is the longest or shortest ride in history, knowing what he wants to do. Wants me to do.
He drags me through the door, fully aware that I now know what he knows. I expect him to take me directly into the bathroom, but he doesn’t. Without so much as a word, he stops at the liquor cabinet and pours me a glass of wine. I had two at dinner, but he correctly assumes that I’m a little . . . hesitant . . . to do what he asks. I down it in three gulps. Then I realize that I did so not only to loosen me up a bit, but because at this moment, I can’t wait another minute for him to take me. The torture of wanting him overwhelms me. If he touches me, I’ll detonate. If he doesn’t, I’ll die.
“Good girl,” he says, laughing when I hand him my empty wine glass only seconds after he gave it to me. “Now let’s get started.” He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him as he puts his mouth to mine for a kiss that’s as raw and unmerciful as it is seductive. He carries me through the main room of the suite, through the bedroom and finally into the bathroom. He puts me down on the large granite countertop, right in between the twin sinks. He has yet to break our kiss. His tongue is working itself in and out of my mouth, mimicking what he plans to do to other parts of my body, with other parts of his. I grab his tongue with my lips and suck on it, showing him in turn what I can do for him, even if I would be deviating from the script.
He unbuttons my blouse and pushes it off my shoulders. I can’t help reaching for his shirt. He brushes my hands away. “Huh uh.” He smiles as my hands retreat to the countertop. He undoes the top of my jeans and I lift my behind so that he can pull them down. His eyes go wide and dilate when he sees my soaked panties. “You want this, darlin’,” he says, running a finger across my clitoris over the small silk triangle. I shiver and almost come from his light touch. “You are so wet.” He moves the fabric aside and inserts a finger easily, pulling it out immediately and putting it in his mouth to suck on it.
Oh, my God, I wrote this. What was I thinking? My body is humming with anticipation. I know what comes next. I know what comes after what comes next. And the thought of it makes my juices flow even more.
He lowers the cups of my bra and licks, sucks and pinches each nipple until I’m begging for his tongue elsewhere. “God, Gavin . . . do it already!” I scream, writhing on the countertop beneath him.
I can feel him smile on my breast. I can see him smile. Because that is what I have to do. Watch him. I have to watch him make me come under the bright lights of the bathroom. And I know he’s going to look up at me when he does it. Of course he is. That’s the way I wrote it.
He rips the string of my panties with his hands until they snap. The counter beneath me is now slick with my want for him. He’s still fully clothed when he lowers himself to his knees. I want to put my hands in his hair. I want to pull his tongue hard against me. I want to grip onto his shoulders. But I don’t. I didn’t write it that way.
He spreads my legs wide open, bending my knees and placing my feet on either side of me on the countertop. “Fuck, that’s beautiful,” he says.
I don’t care how much Merlot I’ve had, I’m positive I’m the exact shade of it at this very moment.
He looks up and locks eyes with me the moment his tongue makes contact. I cry out. I shiver. I firmly grab the countertop beside me. But the one thing I don’t do is shift my eyes away from his. He puts his tongue deep inside me before replacing it with his fingers. Then he licks and laves me, holding my legs apart with his shoulders so that I can’t tighten my thighs. This heightens my arousal and brings me to the quickest, fiercest and most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had in my twenty-six years. My eyes briefly close of their own volition while shudders work their way through me. I open them again to see him drawing every last pulse out of me as he stares up at me with triumphant eyes.
I collapse limply against the mirror behind me. Gavin wipes his mouth with a nearby hand towel. “Jesus Christ, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, darlin’.”
I flush bright red, of course. Over what he’s done to me. Over what we’re still about to do.
He gives me a knowing look and a large smile. When I gain the use of my limbs again, I reach forward and help him remove his clothing. I can do this. It’s allowed. I push his shirt up until I can’t anymore and then he reaches behind him and pulls it over his head. I grab every piece of flesh that’s within my reach, running my fingers over his taut abs, his strong pecs and his broad shoulders. I look down to see that he is so turned on that his erection is peeking out of the top of his khakis. I run my finger over the tip of it and capture the bit of pre-come that flows out. I unbutton his pants and lower his fly. Then I pull his boxers and pants down, letting them drop carelessly to the floor. He works his feet around to step out of them as I run my fist up and down his length.
“Eyes,” he commands.
I had momentarily forgotten. This is an exercise of will. To keep watching each other as we explore every inch of one another’s bodies—as we explore our own as well. He reaches down and replaces my hand with his. Although I can’t look directly, I can see his hand working slowly on himself.
“Now you,” he says. “Exactly like the book, Baylor.”
“Exactly?” I ask, breathlessly.
He nods his head seductively. I know what’s coming. I want to do it. But I don’t. I’m embarrassed. But I’m so incredibly turned on by it.
I breathe out a deep sigh and momentarily lower my eyes to see him handling his own erection. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. It gives me the courage to do what he wants. His hand comes up under my chin, raising my head back to his. I slowly lower my hand down and over my soft mound of brown curls. I run a finger through my folds and feel how slick I am. How slick he’s made me.
He moans when I touch myself and my head involuntarily falls back. When I remember to make eye contact, I look at him only to see him entranced with how I’m moving my fingers against myself. I don’t point out that he’s breaking the rules. I don’t point it out because watching him watch me touch myself is the second most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Shit,” he mutters. “I have to be inside you now. Get up.”
It’s a demand I expected and one I fully intend to follow. I’m past the point of no return. Past the point of being embarrassed. Past the point of caring about anything or anyone except the two of us right here and right now.
I slip off the counter and turn around. I see his smile in the mirror. I hold his gaze in the reflection. Because that is what I have to do. That is exactly how I wrote it. That is how I imagined it. But in a million years, I never dreamed of being the woman in the mirror with Gavin being the man behind me.
I lean forward and lift my hips as he enters me. We both gasp at the onset of pleasure when he hits the end of me. He reaches around to take hold of my breasts, which are still trussed up by the lowered cups of my bra. He fondles them, squeezes them and rolls my nipples between his fingers. I’m building up quickly watching him do this to me. His eyes start to glaze over in the mirror. He says, “Do it, Baylor, come with me.”
We both watch my scripted movement as I reach a hand down and feel where we are joined together. I feel him pushing in and pulling out as we watch the same in the mirror. I put a finger on my clitoris as he begins to stiffen inside me. I work it around as we both watch my ministrations in the mirror. “Oh, yes, darlin’,” he breathes into my hair. “Now. Now!” he commands.
We both fall into waves of spasms and pulses as we watch each other completely fall apart, baring ourselves to each other in the rawest way possible.
Gavin collapses onto my back and we both heave as we try to recover from what I can only describe as the most surreal sexual experience I’ve ever had.
“Holy shit,” he says, breathing heavily into my hair. Our bodies make all kinds of noises from the sheen of sweat between us, to the sound of him pulling out of me. “That was—” He stiffens. “Oh, fuck. I didn’t wear a condom, Bay.”
I’m still bent over the countertop under him when I turn my head around and say, “Well, neither did the guy in my book, so I guess we’re good.”
He sighs. “You’re not pissed?”
I make eye contact with him in the mirror and shake my head. “You said I could trust you, Gavin.”
“I did. You can,” he says quickly. “It’s fine. We’re fine.” He collapses down on me one last time before we stand up. It hurts slightly when I stretch out my body after being bent and contorted for so long. Gavin makes sure I’m steady on my feet before he goes to turn on the shower.
He pulls me into the spa-like shower with its rain showerhead in the ceiling and multiple streams shooting at us from three walls. I melt under the warm, comforting water. Gavin puts some body wash in his hands and then makes sure not to miss a single spot on me. He cleans and massages me, head to toe. It isn’t sexual per se, it’s more like a gesture to simply take care of me. It’s heavenly when he washes my hair, working the shampoo from my scalp down to the very tips. I’m quickly learning that a shower with Gavin is better than any pricey spa day.
He rinses the shampoo from my hair, working his fingers through every strand. I turn around and reach up to return the favor, working my hands through the hair that I’ve dreamed about for so many years. When I have him rinsed out, he puts his hand under the conditioner dispenser on the shower wall and gives it a few pumps. But the nozzle must be gummed up, because conditioner shoots out the side and ends up all over my chest.
Gavin blinks as he stares intently at the globs running down my breasts. “Darlin’, it looks like I just jizzed all over your boobs—that’s so damn hot.” I don’t miss his growing erection despite the fact that we had sex less than ten minutes ago.
He wipes the conditioner off my chest, spins me around and rubs it seductively into my hair as his hard length presses into my backside. All the while I’m making mental notes for my book, because you just can’t make this shit up.
Once again, I’m awakened by the smell of breakfast as Gavin brings a tray of my favorite foods and flowers into the bedroom.
“You realize you’re setting the bar pretty high, right?” I say. “I mean, now I’m going to always expect this. Maybe more. Maybe you’ll need to start serenading me, too.”
Gavin cocks his head to the side to study me.
“What?” I ask, matting down my hair to make sure it’s not sticking up.
“Nothing.” He puts the tray down. “I guess you seem different this morning. Like maybe you won’t run away this time.”
I look nervously at the clock on the table. “Well, I will have to get going after breakfast.”
“Aaaaaand, there she is,” he says, laughing.
I take a deep breath and blow it out. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to run away if you stayed at my house when you come to town.”
He puts down his fork, shoves his plate aside and stares at me. “I don’t think so, Baylor.”
I look at the ground in defeat. Then, pushing my eggs around with my toast, I ask, “But, isn’t that exactly what you’ve been wanting this whole time?”
“No,” he says. “It’s not.” He leans back against the headboard and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, I want nothing more than to live with you when I’m in town. But I won’t do that to Maddox. It wouldn’t be fair to him to see us as a family if that’s not what we’re really going to be. I can’t do that to him if there’s a chance you’ll decide this isn’t what you want.”
I close my eyes. Why can’t he see I’m making an effort here? Shouldn’t he be willing to compromise? “I’m trying here, Gavin. I really am.”
He nods. “I know. And I appreciate that,” he says. “It’s a step in the right direction, Bay.” He gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweats and a shirt. “But there will come a time when baby steps aren’t enough.”
He grabs his cell phone and walks out into the living room.