Sugar on the Edge Page 8

Page 8

  “Um… I really should get home,” I hedge, because it just feels totally awkward to share a meal with this man.

  Gavin walks over to the stove and lifts the lid off the wok. He takes a sniff and his lips curve upward. Turning to me, he says, “Stay. This is way too much food for just me. ”

  My eyes dart around the room, my brain frantically trying to come up with an excuse to decline his invitation. He doesn’t wait for me though, reaching into the cabinet and grabbing another plate. “Come on. I don’t bite,” he cajoles.

  “No, you just threaten and intimidate,” I mutter softly.

  “I heard that,” he says with a grin.

  I can’t help the smile I give in return and with a sigh, I drop my purse to the floor by the front door. Walking back into the kitchen, I take a seat at the kitchen island and watch as Gavin fills my plate up. He grabs a fork and knife from the drawer, handing it across the counter to me.

  “What’s with the nice act all of a sudden?” I can’t help but ask. I figured if I could call him an ass**le earlier and retain my job, he wouldn’t be too perturbed over that question.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Gavin fills his plate up and walks around the counter to sit beside me. “I guess I had a great day writing, despite the caterwauling noises you were making earlier. ”

  My cheeks heat, but he’s opened the door to my own curiosity. I had Googled Gavin a few days ago, and was surprised to find he was a New York Times best-selling author. His first book, Killing the Tides, was a huge, international success and sounded so intriguing, I one-clicked that bad boy for my Kindle.

  “I bought Killing the Tides a few days ago and started reading it in my spare time,” I say before popping a shrimp in my mouth.

  “Really?” he asks with amusement. “So what do you think of it?”

  “It’s really great,” I say after swallowing my food. I spear a sugar snap pea and open my mouth again.

  “No… what do you really think about it?” he asks, his gaze probing, his meal neglected.

  Setting my fork down, I turn slightly in my chair to face him. “I think it’s raw, disturbing, and overwhelming. It reminds me of you. ”

  Picking up his own fork, he stabs a shrimp and gives me a dark smile that sends shivers up my spine. “Good answer. ”

  7

  Savannah doesn’t know me well at all, but she understands that Killing the Tides was borne of a pervasive darkness that’s within me. While she’ll never know the hell I was mired in while I wrote that manuscript, she understands fully that every word in that book was inked in the blood of my wounds.

  But I don’t want to talk about that.

  “So tell me, sweet Savannah,” I drawl. “What did you think of the erotica component?”

  I take immense pleasure in the redness that stains her cheeks from my question, and I know without a doubt that she’s read enough of the book to get to the first sex scene. While the plot line is simple… a hero with magical powers tries to save modern-day Earth from a demon uprising, I wove some hardcore erotica into the story that was nothing more than my baser desires being revealed. During the time I was writing the book, I experimented in some twitchy kink, visiting various sex clubs throughout London and the surrounding areas. I’ve pretty much tried it all—BDSM, fetish, swingers clubs, voyeurism, orgies—you name it, I’ve sampled. I used those experiences to spice up what, I thought, was an otherwise unoriginal story. In fact, but for those erotic elements, Killing the Tides would have gone nowhere fast.

  In that first sex scene, my hero ends up saving a woman who was on the verge of being devoured by a particularly nasty demon—one that had the spirit of an incubus and who had made the woman so consumed with lust that she was in pain.

  I mean… what was the hero to do at that point? Fuck her, right?

  And so he did… in a dark alley in the middle of New York City. He pushed her skirt up, ripped her panties off because she was begging with tears in her eyes, and f**ked her hard. Her cries of pleasure and relief filtered out onto the streets, and a few miscreants stopped to watch while my hero nailed her over and over again.

  Savannah doesn’t answer my question, chewing on her bottom lip with her eyes pinned to her plate. I feel the need to make her uncomfortable for some reason, so I push at her.

  “Come on, sweet girl,” I murmur. “What did you think when Max f**ked that woman against the wall?”

  I watch as she swallows hard, her hand gripping her fork so tightly that her knuckles are white. I think she’s going to ignore me, or maybe even throw her plate at me, but instead, she raises her eyes and her voice is steady. “I think your hero was trying to f**k his own pain away,” she says. “After his parents were killed at the beginning of the story, I think he stopped caring about propriety. Yes, he was fueled by an almost unquenchable need to help others, almost as if he was trying to make up for not saving his parents, but he also took stupid risks, allowing himself to lose control. ”

  I blink at her hard, because that wasn’t the answer I was expecting. I figured she’d fumble over her words, cheeks flaring hotter, and try to find a way to deny she was turned on. Instead, she saw straight through to the subtle hint of truth in my words and exposed it brightly before me.

  “You see a lot,” I tell her, turning back to my food.

  “It was also pretty damn hot, too,” she says as an afterthought, and I can hear the smile in her voice, although I don’t look back at her.

  We eat in silence for a bit, and that’s no chore because f**k… the woman can cook. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal, and Asian cuisine is my favorite.

  “What are you working on now?” Savannah asks and because it’s no secret, I tell her.

  “New York loved the book so much that they want to turn it into a trilogy. ”

  “So, you’re going to leave me with a major cliffhanger at the end of Killing the Tides?”

  “Actually, no. When I wrote it, I made it a stand-alone. I had no intention of ever writing another book after that… ever again. ”

  “Why?” she exclaims. “You’re really gifted… I can’t imagine you not continuing on. ”

  I shrug my shoulders again and damn… I would like to claim indifference to her praise. I’ve had hundreds of people compliment my work, but none of those accolades seemed to cause a warm feeling in the center of my chest like Savannah’s simple words do now.

  “Well, I’m continuing on now, aren’t I? Besides, they waved too much money for me to ignore,” I tell her simply.

  “I call bullshit on you. I think you would have written another book with or without them offering you a dime,” she says before she takes another bite of her dinner.

  “Maybe,” I hedge, because I’m not so sure. I was so drained after finishing Killing the Tides, that I wanted to do nothing but crawl inside of a bottle and drink myself away.

  Which is exactly what I did.

  “What’s the next book about?” she asks. “Without spoiling anything for me. ”

  Chuckling, I get up from the counter and head to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water that Savannah was kind enough to stock for me. “Much of the same… my hero Max will have a new problem to quell in the streets of New York. And he’ll f**k his way through a bevy of beauties while he’s at it. ”

  “Of course he will,” she says drily. “Any other hints?”

  I stare at her a moment, and it hits me hard that she is really quite gorgeous. While she’s a little too saccharine for my proclivities, I can’t deny that she’s actually pretty f**king hot. She’s a little too thin and probably would bruise easily, but her dark hair and amber eyes, along with her smooth skin, begs my attention. Unfortunately, she’d probably break too easy under my rough ministrations so I dismiss the thought of f**king her, even though my c**k seems to sigh in frustration over said banishment.

  “I wrote a new character into my book yest
erday,” I tell her. “I’m basing her off you. ”

  Savannah’s eyebrows shoot sky high, and she gives me a lopsided grin. “You mean I’m going to be a heroine in your book?”

  “Sadly, no. You’re more like an anti-heroine,” I tell her truthfully.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s like an important figure in the book, but they don’t possess the conventional heroine traits. ”

  “Oh,” she says matter-of-factly. “So, no red cape and superhuman powers to help Max battle evil?”

  “Sorry, babe,” I tell her as I walk back over to my seat. “You just don’t have what it takes. In fact, I think you’re going to meet quite the gruesome ending. ”

  “Bummer,” she says while toying with her food.

  “If it’s any consolation, Max is going to give you a few great orgasms before you meet your demise. ”

  “Well, that’s something, I guess,” she says, and then sets her fork down. “So, exactly how did you paint me in your novel?”

  I scoop up a bite of rice and vegetables, pop it in my mouth, and chew. After I swallow, I set my fork back down. “No offense, but you’re kind of timid. You’re the type of woman that takes whatever is handed to her, and tries to make the best of it. You’re not very proactive, with no real gumption to take your fate into your own hands. That’s how I’m developing the character. I mean, she’ll have the best of intentions, but she’s always going to wait for Max to save her, rather than try to save herself. ”

  She just stares at me. Her face is impassive at first, but then I see a kernel of heat start to glow. “That is so not me,” she huffs.

  “Yes, it is. You’re a passive woman. ”

  Savannah grips the edge of the counter. “You don’t know me at all. ”

  “I know enough. ”

  “Give me one example,” she dares me.

  “Okay… earlier today, when I told you that you were making too much noise with the hoover, and then I told you to use the broom, you just took it from me. You didn’t lay into me for manhandling you, you apologized even though I was the ass, and you just accepted what I told you to do. And I may appear to be a slob, but even I know that you can’t use a broom on the area rugs. You have to use the hoover to clean those. Yet, you never stood up for yourself. ”

  Savannah’s mouth falls open. She starts to say something, and then snaps it shut while her gaze darts down to her plate. Pushing her stool backward from the counter, she raises her gaze to mine again. “I was just trying to be a good employee,” she argues.

  “A good employee would have shown a little gumption and told me what you really needed to clean properly. See… you’re passive. ”

  “I called you an ass**le,” she points out.

  I can’t help myself but throw my head back and laugh. “Ah, yes, you did. But you wouldn’t have done that had you not had a flash of temper run through you. That was all involuntary. You’d never have the guts to stand up for yourself like that in calmer times. ”

  “Okay… that caught me off guard, but that’s just one example,” she says.

  “I could give you dozens, Savannah. How about when you showed up at my house last week. You were so intimidated by me being in my boxers that you would have given up this job you say you so desperately need. You got intimidated when I asked you about your feelings for Brody the other night. Now, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being that way… I’m just saying you have anti-heroine traits that I’m going to exploit in my book. ”

  Her eyes narrow at me, and I can tell she’s pissed. I’m betting she’s going to push out of her shell again with me in three, two, one…