Mike smiled, making it clear there was no animosity between them. He kissed his wife's hand. "She was just waiting for the man of her dreams to sweep her off her feet."
"Yeah, but then you came along and thwarted her plans," Evan said.
Mike snorted. "Did you just say thwarted, Wright?"
"Cut it out, boys. Let me tell the story," Tilla said, rubbing Mike's shoulders. "See, Mike and I had been going out for a few months and he wanted to do something special for my twenty-first birthday, so he made reservations at this really expensive French restaurant. He saved up for months and even studied the menu so he could order in French."
"That's impressive, Mike."
Tilla sat in his lap. "I know, right?"
"But I accidently ordered the wrong year of wine. I thought it was fifty bucks and instead it was over five hundred."
"When the bill came he didn't have enough money to pay and neither did I," Tilla finished the story. "We tried to work something out with the restaurant but they threatened to call the police."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"We called my dad. That was the first time he met Mike. Needless to say, it was a bad first impression."
"And even though I paid him back every cent, the man's never let me live it down."
"Yeah but now you have this great chapter in your love story." I picked up the shot glass. "Let's toast to laughing at our mistakes."
"And learning from them," Mike said.
"And forgiving yourself," Tilla added.
We all looked at Evan.
"What?"
"Don't you want to add something?" I asked.
"I don't need a prelude to drink."
"Evan, you can leave Cynical City once in a while and join the rest of us," I said, dragging him toward the bar.
"I thought I lived in Surly Ville?"
I shrugged. "I'm going to have to downgrade you if you don't make a toast. Trust me, you don't want to live in Cynical City. They have a high crime rate and the taxes are ridiculous."
"You guys gonna let us in on your joke?" Tilla asked.
Evan smiled, shaking his head. "Nope, but I will make a toast. Let's drink to thwarted plans."
"The best kind of plans," Mike said.
The glasses clinked and the liquor went down as it should-warm, rough and decadent.
Chapter Seventeen
William took Virginia's hand and led her to the bedroom. "Dear one, let me show you all the love I have."
Okay … that kind of sucks.
Virginia gasped at the sight of William's tattoo. Its glorious design covered his torso. She wondered how long it would take to trace … with her tongue.
Hmmm … not bad. But wait, my character was conservative. Plus, this was a historical. Did they have badass tattoos back then? I should know this. I got it. I'll Google it.
I had boundless procrastination when I wrote. I'd decided to rewrite the whole story, injecting it with a healthy dose of passion. Unfortunately, my passion stalled once in a while.
I caught a glimpse of Evan on my bed. Okay, I purposefully turned in that direction, deciding that the opportunity to leer at him was not one I should pass up. He lay there deliciously shirtless, surrounded in a sea of orange and green sheets. His jeans were unbuttoned at the top, his sex lines visible. It had been a few weeks and we'd developed a rhythm. As he said, we owned each other's nights. During the day, though, he'd usually leave to run errands. I had an inkling one of those errands was going to the cemetery. I'd stopped going myself, not wanting to intrude.
He yawned and rolled over to my side, groping the bed. He wasn't usually this restless. I would know because I wouldn't get any sleep otherwise. His hand patted my pillow, before he pushed it off the bed with a hefty grunt.
"What are you looking for?" I asked when he blinked his eyes open.
"My cuddle buddy."
My heart stammered in my chest before melting into a puddle. Aww, I'm his cuddle buddy.
"Why are you over there?"
"I wanted to get some writing done."
He stretched himself awake before shuffling over to the fridge. He took out the orange juice and looked over at me, shaking the carton.
"Can I have the rest of this?"
"Help yourself."
He leaned against the counter, his Adam's apple bobbing as he finished the container. No one should be this sexy when they first get up. Note to self, buy more orange juice and watch Evan drink it. He tossed the empty container into the bin as if he was making a basketball shot. To my disappointment, he headed for the door.
"Be back."
I turned around and tried to concentrate on my book. Suddenly, William had a prominent Adam's apple and a white scar across his jaw. My shoulders tensed when Evan peered over them to read the laptop screen, smelling of fresh mint and hot man.
"May I read your book?" he asked.
"No," I said, covering the screen with my hand.
"Why not?"
"It's private."
"I thought you wanted to publish it."
He had a point. "I'll let you read this page for now."
His lips moved as he read the words, his grin growing wider with each sentence. "You writing a love scene, Price?"
I gulped, almost shutting the laptop on his finger. "Do you like it?"
"I like reading about it, but I really loved living it like we did last night."
I reread the scene. Shit. He was right. I wrote about us. I smacked my palm to my forehead. "I didn't realize it. I swear I didn't. I have to rewrite this … again."
"Leave it," he said, tousling my hair.
"You wouldn't mind? Because that would work out great, since they're difficult for me to write."
"Why is that?" He started massaging my shoulders so it took me a minute to remember his question.
"They come out very mechanical, sometimes."
"Let me help you write another one then."
"You want to collaborate with me?"
He chuckled. "If that's what you call it."
I stared up at him. "Do you just want to have sex, Evan?"
"Is that a rhetorical question? Hell yeah, I wanna have sex. I've got so much morning wood, I could build us a log cabin. But I promise my intentions are not completely selfish."
"You're distract-a-licious, but I seriously have to finish this."
He grinned, dragging his hand across his stubble lined jaw. "Distract-a-licious?"
"It's a technical term," I said, turning back to the computer.
"Come here, Billie Marie. Let me show how necessary distractions are to the creative process."
I stood because what little willpower I had disintegrated when he used his commanding voice coupled with my middle name. Sort of like I was in trouble, but I would enjoy the punishment.
He slid his hands down my body, rubbing my arms, lower back and ending at my ass. Just when the first moan started, I gasped because he picked me up and threw me on the bed.
He lay over me, using his elbows to prop himself up. I leaned up to kiss him, but he backed away. The first time, I thought it was cute he was teasing me, but by the third time I was pissed.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
"I'm waiting for you."
"To do what, exactly?"
"Narrate."
I blinked, trying to figure out if he was serious. Hard to tell with the smirk on face. "You're kidding."
"Do you want to write a sex scene or fuck me?"
"Both."
He licked his bottom lip. "Then do both."
I took a deep breath and placed his hand on the top button of my shirt. "He slowly unbuttoned her shirtwaist, revealing her skin with each flick of his finger."
Evan began doing exactly what I said. "Correction, her creamy, silky skin that tasted like honey."
"Damn … you're really good at this."
He shrugged, concentrating on my buttons. After a second he continued our dialogue, "He fumbled with the stupid-ass buttons because they were so tiny."
"Stupid ass?"
"It's a technical term," he grumbled.
"His clumsiness was odd because his hands typically had incredible dexterity and skill."
"Just a sign of how much he wanted her. Fuck it, he said, ripping the shirt." Evan looked at me hopefully.
"The idea of his hands on her naked flesh outweighed any affection she had toward the garment."
Before I could register the sound, buttons were flying in every direction and his mouth was tasting the honey of my skin … his words, not mine.
"He bit into the lacy material of her brassiere, pulling it away to reveal her breasts," I said.
He gave me a peculiar look when I said brassiere, but he started doing it before I even finished the sentence. "Her perfect breasts," he whispered, his voice smoky.