Stirred (12 page)

She huffed in embarrassment and covered her face with her free hand.

But I pulled it away. “What are you so ashamed of?”

“You read my book.”

I chuckled. “Well, no, not entirely. Only parts of it. The good parts though. There’s a Goodreads discussion group that was pretty helpful.”

“Oh God!” she lamented with a groan.

“No, don’t do that, Eden. That’s not you.”

“You don’t know what’s me and what isn’t.”

“Maybe not, not yet anyway, but I want to. I want to know everything, like how you know if what you write, what you have your characters do, is real, is true. If you’re the good girl who never cheats, who never strays, who never experiences what that’s like, how do you know what to write and if it’s authentic?”

“I read in my genre. I know what readers like, what they want. I’m a good writer.”

“But how do you know what you write is believable?”

“Hey, I just wanted to prove erotica could be well-written, that it could be sexy and provocative without being vulgar or distasteful, that dominance was not the only way to express sexual power over another person.”

“What? No bondage or pain?” I asked, more as a joke than real curiosity.

“No, more like possession, complete ownership of the heart.”

I couldn’t hide the doubt in my eye. She couldn’t hide the defiance in hers.

“Everyone knows
Fifty Shades of Grey
was a cult hit. But not many understand the real reason why, that it struck a chord with women stuck in tired, loveless marriages, worn down by crisis after crisis during the recession. These women needed the release. Their stressed-out husbands were so mired in financial ruin, they had little to offer their wives, who, in turn, became lonely and desperate for attention. And that book helped them feel alive again. They read it in secret, then in groups, dissecting every scene, baring every nuance. They became bold in their newfound sexual re-awakening, so bold, they began to share passages with their husbands. And do you know what happened next?” she asked.

I shrugged. “No, but I imagine they—”

“Saved their marriages,” she interjected. “Became different people with the very men they’d known most of their adult lives. They experimented, bought toys and role-played, breathing life back into their love lives, into their marriage beds. And suddenly, life didn’t suck quite so much anymore. Regardless of what people might say, that book saved a lot of marriages.”

“Hm,” I reacted, none too thoughtfully. “Well, then why’s it so heavily criticized?”

“For one, it opened the floodgates to a new wave in publishing. First it was BDSM clubs, then motorcycle gangs, stepbrothers. And, oh, let’s not forget the sex slaves. There are countless books about young women being abducted then raped by some ridiculously gorgeous billionaire, which, of course, makes it acceptable.”

“Acceptable?”

“Yes, women are eating it up, which I find a little disturbing.”

“Because…?”

Eden’s eyes bugged out. “Because it perpetuates rape culture. When I wrote
Joust
, I wanted to show women they could submit their bodies without subjugating their identity, that having choice forcibly taken away—no matter how good-looking or wealthy the man—is
not
romantic.”

In the middle of her rant, Eden had pulled away and wrapped her arms around herself. I signaled our server for another round then focused back on Eden. The booth’s seat cushion moved as she crossed and re-crossed her legs, her foot tapping and swaying restlessly. I laid a hand against her wrist.

“No, it’s not romantic, but…literature is very subjective. I can see your point, though, and that you’re very passionate about it.”

She leaned onto the table, her face close to mine as she said, “You’re damn straight.”

I stared at Eden—hard—feeling certain she was drawing on some deeply personal experience, but also that she was maneuvering me somehow—finessing me and the conversation.

I leaned back in my chair, my hands on my lap. “I think you’re deflecting, Eden. Answer my original question.”

Her brow tensed. “What question?”

“Do you think what you write is believable?”

At first she shrugged, then she nodded and said, “Yes, I do,” quite emphatically, yet still at odds with herself. “But it’s a damn novel, you know. It’s not really…
real
. It’s fiction. An author doesn’t have to be a killer to write murder mysteries.”

“Well, perhaps it
can
be real, Eden. Perhaps I can show you, and you can kill two birds with one stone, research
and
revenge.” I dropped my hand beneath the table and caressed her knee, lingered on the flesh along the inside of her thigh.

Her hands caught mine and stilled it in place, not letting me go any farther, but not pushing me away either. She was very conflicted; that much was certain—the look in her eyes, the way she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. And it would work to my benefit, I was sure. But instead of emboldening me, it gave me pause, and my longing inexplicably shifted from what
I
wanted for
myself
, to what I wanted for
her
—to feel desired, to know she was someone’s fantasy, a dream come true. I would show her what she’d been missing all these years, what her husband had denied her, that she was worth the effort, worth giving to, worth loving. And in my sudden need to be what her husband had not, I felt a fullness swell inside me. Not just between my legs, or even my heart, but in my soul.

Caught in that epiphany, I leaned in, my mouth a mere inch from her right ear.

“What are you so afraid of, Eden?” I breathed, and slowly, I moved to face her, so close, all I had to do was stretch my neck, ever so slightly, and my mouth was on hers, gently, my tongue a flick against her lips as I brushed across it. Next, my mouth was at her left ear. “Why not take the risk?” I pressed but for a moment before my mouth reclaimed hers.

Damn.
I couldn’t help it. Though my head fought for control, my body was proving otherwise. I kissed her deeply this time, my tongue probing for hers, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she met me head on. My hand between her knees pressed forward, not rough, but definitely insistent. Undeniable. Her hands, once a tense and formidable barrier, relaxed, though she kept them resting against mine as my fingers edged upward, gently easing her legs apart to allow me access. And there it was, the lacy edge of her panties, and an intense, scorching heat. My heart ricocheted in response.

Eden sucked in a soft hiss as her mouth retreated from mine, but, though she pulled back for a split-second, a half-hearted attempt to regroup and regain control, she knew, as well as I, that it was impossible, and her mouth returned to the one place we both knew it belonged, right against mine. But even that proved too much for her, and she dipped her chin to lean her forehead against my cheek as she panted in anticipation.

Because that’s what this was. Anticipation. I hadn’t really touched her—not yet. I hadn’t invaded the space her wedding vows had long ago promised to one man, and one man only. That anticipation she felt was her sense of decency and fidelity warring with her desire, the basest need a human could ever experience. I wanted to prolong that moment, to draw it to a point where she felt unable to maintain any control whatsoever. I was almost there myself. My cock was a rigid mountain screaming for release. But it would have to wait. I wanted Eden to experience that first.

So I slipped one finger under the delicate edge of lace. She was so soft, so clean, completely bare and smooth. The silken lingerie was damp and growing heavy with her desire, and I didn’t have the wherewithal to keep from slipping between the slick heat of her sex, right there in the dark corner of a bar in the middle of fucking Ballard.

Shit!

I’d always been a bold motherfucker, but I’d never done anything like this. I’d never had the outright desire, let alone the goddamn balls, to commit such a wantonly private act in such a crowded public place. But that’s exactly what was so alluring, so intoxicating—the darkly forbidden. The rush of fear at being discovered. It had been a long time since I’d been pushed to take such risks. My whole body hammered in expectation.

I shifted my mouth back to her ear. My whisper came out as a ragged pant. “Christ, Eden, you’re so fucking wet. So ready for me. All you have to do is let me in.”

I groaned as I waged a battle of control, slicing through her furrow and plunging into her depths, my hand slick with her lust and need. Her legs parted a little farther, and, as she leaned back, her hands pushed me deeper, harder. She was in the moment. There was nothing standing between us now.

“Let me show you what you’ve been missing, Eden, what you need to let your imagination go wild.” I plummeted inside her, curling my finger to reach a place that would bring her ecstasy.

I moved against it, pushing and withdrawing as Eden rocked her hips against me. When she swelled and grew tighter, I inserted a second finger and rotated my hand, sweeping my thumb between her labia, until I found her sensitive nub. I rubbed it in urgent circles, harder and faster, my fingers pumping simultaneously, until she clasped my wrist, and her body grew rigid. She sucked in such a hard rush of air, I felt sure she’d choke, but she managed to hold her breath as her body was wracked with one relentless spasm after another.

Eden’s head tipped back, her eyes closed, and she released a soft moan so undeniable, the nearest patrons sniggered in suspicion. I couldn’t help but smile. I felt as if I’d just pushed her to release a whole lifetime of pent-up sexual tension in that one climax. The proof of it flooded against my hand.
Damn.
I knew I was good, but I never imagined bringing a woman to such dizzying heights in the middle of a public venue.

When she’d gathered herself enough to take a cleansing breath, she tilted toward me and laid her head against my shoulder. I could feel her heart thrashing beneath her breastbone.

I slid my mouth to her ear one last time and said, “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

Excited for what was sure to come next, I held fast to Daniel’s hand, stumbling out of the bar and tearing across the street. Daniel glanced around for the quickest way back to my car parked behind the bookstore, but there were no alleys or breaks in the building, and most of the retail shops were closed. Frustrated, he pulled me into a gyro shop, straight through the kitchen toward the back door. The employees gave us puzzled looks, and one even shouted that we weren’t allowed back there. But Daniel just waved and pulled me through the rear door and out into the parking lot.

It was dark behind the long row of shops, with only one light burning at the far end easily fifty yards away. My car was parked at the other, next to the chain-link enclosure that corralled trash bins and a lone Dumpster wedged up against an L-shaped wall. I popped the trunk with my key. Daniel dumped my briefcase in, and, after I opened the driver side door and tossed my bag and keys onto the passenger seat, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me in for a blistering kiss.

We groped at each other as we careened back against the fence. It rattled so loud, I couldn’t help but tear my mouth away and look around to see if anyone had heard it. Daniel’s fingers turned my face toward him before placing both hands on the fence on either side of my head. I was trapped in a dark, out-of-the-way alley with a sexy, young stranger I’d met only once before, but damn if it wasn’t the most exhilarating encounter I’d had since Jacob.

So many things about Daniel reminded me of Jacob. Just being with him transported me back to a time when passion and desire ruled every thought. It was difficult to separate the intensity of those old feelings from what I was feeling now. My nerves were raw, my stomach tight, and my head a flighty mess with all the adrenaline pulsing through me. For the first time in twenty years, I lived in the moment, enjoying the frenzy of this surprising new passion. So easy.
Too
easy, for Daniel kissed me like I was the last woman on earth. His mouth burned a torrid path down my neck and over my chest. I could barely breathe. Sensations I couldn’t put a name to galloped over every inch of skin his mouth blazed across.