She’d put on her headphones as a tool to increase her concentration. She created a playlist for each book, sometimes for individual scenes. She was about to write a sex scene between her heroine Nicki Champion and the Chicago detective who was giving her a hard time. She was listening to Imagine Dragons’ latest, which usually inspired her to get her thoughts in order and her fingers flying over the keyboard.
Instead all she could think about was her reaction to falling into Ronan’s arms and their resulting kiss. The song “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons should have been a warning that Ronan was radioactive to her. The man was a rival trying to steal her inheritance from her. Instead he’d stolen her breath and her common sense.
There was no way she was justified in returning his kiss. Of course, there was no way that he was justified in kissing her in the first place. Still, it was her job to remain the calm one. Instead she’d turned into a hot mess complete with weak knees and a racing heart.
At least she could brag that she’d come to her senses and pushed him away to end the kiss. She was glad she’d been the one to walk away.
Damn. There she went again, thinking about Ronan instead of Nicki.
No way Nicki, the heroine of her book, would be sitting here mooning over a guy. Instead she was rolling in black satin sheets with a hot cop. A naked hot cop. Right. There was the naked thing again, which led Sierra’s thoughts right back to Ronan.
She clicked on her playlist so it moved on from Imagine Dragons to the next song up. “Lessons in Love” by Neon Trees. Not a lot of help there. No way she was falling in love with Ronan. Not after one kiss. That was ridiculous.
Lessons in lust, maybe. Okay, she could deal with that. She’d pour her feelings onto the page … er, the screen.
Wait, she had to check her e-mail to see if her attorney had answered her. He’d said that he wouldn’t have much e-mail access, that it would be spotty at best, but there was a chance … No, no response.
But there was an e-mail from a reader saying she’d loved reading Sierra’s first book and asking for a signed bookmark. Sierra didn’t have an assistant, so she took care of the promo things herself. Someday soon she hoped to have help, but right now her funds were limited.
Focus. Her readers were waiting for the next Ghost Games book and Nicki’s next adventure.
Back to those black satin sheets. She’d never needed wine to write a sex scene before but maybe she should try it now. Too bad she didn’t have any alcohol in the house. Besides, her readers wouldn’t be tipsy on chardonnay while reading her book so she probably shouldn’t be tipsy either.
Maybe she should forget the satin sheets and try making that indelible image of Naked Ronan work for her. And so it was that the Chicago cop got brown eyes and dark hair just like Ronan. And bingo, suddenly Sierra was inspired and Nicki and the as-yet-unnamed Chicago cop got naked, got busy, and got orgasmic.
Nicki didn’t care that she didn’t know his first name. She knew his kiss. Recognized it. Wanted it to distract her from the devastating mess she’d seen. Bernie had come to her as a ghost, asking for her help in capturing his murderer. Instead, she’d been unable to prevent his wife from nearly being killed by having acid thrown on her.
So yeah, Nicki needed sex. To avoid the guilt. She needed molten hot, epic sex and she knew this man could give it to her. She’d known it from the first moment she’d seen him. And she was right.
She wasn’t wearing much when he’d come to her door to talk about the case. Now she was wearing nothing but the scent of desire.
He backed her against the wall as she fumbled with the fastening of his jeans. He had her roll the condom on his penis before he plunged into her, banging her against the wall. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she welcomed the wild recklessness of his possession.
“Faster!” Nicki told him. “Faster. Deeper!”
“You like giving orders,” he muttered against her mouth before grabbing hold of her butt to yank her into his thrusts.
“Yes!” Nicki shouted as she came, her orgasm gaining momentum.
“Satisfied?”
The question startled Sierra out of her writing zone. She looked up from the screen to see Ruby standing near the door.
Sierra looked back at her screen and the page count. Yep, five pages done. “Yes, I’m satisfied. So are Nicki and her cop.”
“Who?”
“My characters,” Sierra said.
“I don’t care about them. I’m talking about me.”
“You asked me if I was satisfied. I thought you meant was I satisfied about getting some writing done.”
Ruby made a scoffing face. At least that’s how Sierra translated it. “Why should I care about your writing? I was referring to Hal. Are you satisfied that you have a good plan to deal with him?”