I follow him with my eyes as he finishes up a drink and then turns around, giving me his back and making a panini. I’ve had to stop coming here early to write because I haven’t been getting much done in his presence. My routine now is staying home in the morning, writing my ass off, then making my way to Grind Time an hour or two before closing time so we can take things upstairs.
And by things, I mean sex. Because although we talk and I brainstorm with him, there is no writing.
But there are a shit-ton of orgasms.
You win some, you lose some, and I’m still on pace to finishing this damn book, so that’s all that matters, right?
God, I don’t even know anymore. I feel like I’m living two very different lives right now, and I know at some point this will all catch up with me. But I can’t dwell on that or I’ll never finish this book, and then I’llhave to think about where James and I are heading, and that’s too scary to consider at the moment.
My eyes follow Oakley as he makes his way around the counter, taking a direct path to me.
“Hey there, gorgeous. You haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” he asks, setting down my usual latte and a chicken pesto panini. I look around, seeing the place is empty—thank God, because I don’t want people speculating about my sex life.
I think I might be in so much trouble with this man.
“I have not. Thank you so much.” Anxiety courses through me, trying to make sure I’m maintaining a correct level of disconnect from him while also wanting him so fucking bad. And then there’s the fact that he feeds me every single day. Quietly making sure I’m taking care of myself and fueling my coffee addiction at the same time.
My panicked thoughts must be broadcasting all over my face because Oakley immediately starts grabbing the plate.
“You don’t want pesto chicken. What are you in the mood for?” he asks quickly.
“No, no, this is perfect, I promise! I’m just a little too in my head at the moment.”
His eyes darken, and a sly smirk takes over his concerned features.
“No! Seriously, I need to get more work done today. I’m behind on my word count goal,” I refute his dirty thoughts.
“Can we use it as an incentive, then?”
“’It’ as in, the mind-blowing sex you’ve been giving me every evening?” I smirk.
“That’d be the one, yes.”
God, he has no shame.
I pretend to think about, like it’s such a hardship to have the best sex of my life.
“I guess I can work with that.”
He rolls his eyes at my smart-ass retort, and I can’t help but laugh. We both know I’m going to cave every single time. It’s just a matter of actually finishing my work today.
“Can I help with anything?” He nods to my laptop, and I arch my eyebrow at him. “No, seriously, no sex distraction. I’m genuinely trying to help this time.” He chuckles.
I let out a sigh. “I’m stuck.” He waits patiently for me to continue. “Well, I have Charlie and Niya screwing, but I’m feeling like it’s not actually progressing the story. She hasn’t given him any new information in a while, and he’s just killing away, acting oblivious at work while getting ass on the side. It feels lopsided, like our baker doesn’t really have a huge role in all this yet.”
“Okay, so how do we give her a bigger role? Maybe we make her complicit somehow? Maybe she catches him in the act in the next couple of chapters, and it causes a blow-up of sorts? I mean, how likely is it that our CIA agent just sleeps with her without getting close and hiding the fact that he’s the very killer he’s trying to catch?”
“Hmm,” I hum, thinking on it. It could actually work, and it would shift the story a lot. I wanted to have theCharlie’s the killerreveal as the final twist, but if I go this route, I will need to reveal that sooner rather than later.
“I like it. I would just need to figure out another huge twist toward the end since that was going to be it.”
“Okay, let me think on that.”
I also haven’t missed how he says ”we” like we’re both writing this book. And I guess, in a way, we are.Damn, I might need to give him some credit in this one.The thought makes me smile. I bet he never expected to play such a huge role in a book, let alone one of my books.
I think about the pristine shelf in his apartment that holds all of my books, and it never makes me fail to feel unworthy to have such a special place in his home. As an author, I don’t see fans of my books every day. My siblings don’t count because they feel like they have to like it, but Oakley? Oakley was reading long before our sexcapades started.
“The other thing I’m stuck on is making sure that Charlie’s process makes sense and feels authentic.”
