“I met a woman in real life—at a party, of all places. And I was so cocky, so damn sure I could prove that the in-person chemistry we felt that night was the key to our romance. But the thing is—I fell in love with her online, through letters. So many love letters.”
I tell her and everyone is listening to how it happened. How we happened. “I read them all the other day, and not only did they remind me I was an absolute fool if I didn’t do everything in the universe to win her back, but they, too, reminded me that we fell in love through email. Digitally. And so, I came here tonight to tell her—” I stop, then drop the pretense. “I came to tell you . . . that you won the bet. I’m here for my public reckoning. And here goes . . . You were right, you were right, you were right. You can fall in love online. It happened to me, and I want to stay in love.” I meet her gaze, and I step off the cliff, flying blind. “I hope you do too.”
The audience loses its cool. They roar. They scream. They cheer to the rafters.
“Say yes!”
“If you don’t want him, I do.”
“I call sloppy seconds.”
Bellamy dips her head, maybe embarrassed, but mostly looking stunned. When she lifts her face, she’s all smiles while her fans shout and scream.
When they quiet down, she collects herself. “But how do we know who won or lost? If I remember, we said we’d have to determine the winner of the bet, but we didn’t say how. How do we decide who is the happiest with their romantic outcome?”
There’s a familiar challenge in her tone, but also warmth. Like she’s holding her arms open wide.
Hope balloons inside me. “There’s really only one way to determine the winner.”
“And what’s that way?” She’s playful now, my teasing, tempting Bellamy.
I roll the dice one more time. “A kiss. Sometimes you have to kiss the frog.”
Even with the distance, she radiates joy, from the spark in her eyes to the curve in her lips. She takes a breath and shoots me a saucy look. “Then you better get up here and kiss me senseless, cowboy.”
I’m so there.
I race up the steps, reach for her hand, and tug her up from her chair. The audience shrieks as I bring her close and cup her cheek.
Everything is right in the world as I sweep my lips over hers.
And I kiss her—the kind of kiss that’s like declaring your love on a neon billboard in Times Square.
Like you’re writing it across the sky.
That’s how I feel as I kiss the woman who took me back.
When I break the kiss, I whisper, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“Then how about we declare a winner of our bet?”
She presses another kiss to my lips, slow and soft and deep. Then she sighs, presses her forehead to mine, and says, “We both won.”
I’ll say.
An hour and a half later, Bellamy says goodbye to the last guest, a guy who looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ.
“Thanks again for coming, Monroe. I’m psyched you could make it.”
“I never miss one of your podcasts. They’re incredibly . . . enlightening,” he says. Then he nods to the theater exit. “I should go. Someone’s waiting for me at home.”
“I’d tell you to romance her, but I know you will.” She catches my gaze and gives me a warm smile. “Monroe, this is Easton. My guy,” she says, with that purr in her voice.
The magazine model laughs as he extends a hand. “Yes, I gathered that. Impressive stuff there at the podium. I may need to use you as a new case study in my practice.”
I lift an eyebrow, intrigued. “Life goals realized. Are you a doctor?”
“I was.” He takes a hesitant beat. “Or really, I still am. I’ve just shifted my specialty.”
“And you should come on my show to talk about your specialty,” Bellamy sings out.
Monroe laughs, a laugh that says don’t bet on it. “I’ll leave you two. I suspect you have lots of catching up to do.” With a wink, he claps my shoulder. “And I mean it. You’d make a great case study. But I’ll let Bellamy tell you more about that.”
He leaves, and I’ll ask about him later. But not now because, finally—fucking finally—I can get Bellamy out of here.
Or maybe not, because as I scan the empty theater, a dirty idea demands attention.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she says playfully, sliding up against me, fingers tap-dancing on my chest.
“That’s not hard to guess,” I say.
Her hand doubles back the other way, down to squeeze my bulge. “It is hard, though.”
“Sweetheart, that’s a given with you.”
“Good. Keep it up.”
My gaze drifts to her hand. “If you keep that up, so will I.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
A quick glance around tells me we’re alone, and I’m tempted, so damn tempted. “Is this why you asked me to meet you here when your podcast ended? To get me all alone and have your wicked way with me?”
“No, I do have some wicked plans. But I wanted to see you because I have something to ask you.” She lets go of me, her expression turning less playful, more vulnerable.
“Ask me anything.”
She lifts her chin, smiles warmly. “Will you take me home tonight?”
I only have one word for her, and it fills me with joy to say it: “Yes.”
But once we’re there, it turns out she has other questions too.
47
All Paid Up
One of her questions, I answer in bed.
“Yes, I’ll fuck you hard,” I say as I slide into her.
She moans gorgeously, a throaty, sensual sound as she curls her hands over my shoulders, gripping me. “And will you give it to me good?”
Swiveling my hips, I slide almost all the way out, pausing for a tantalizing few seconds before I plunge in. “This good enough for you?”
The answer comes in a sexy gasp as she stretches her neck, exposing all that gorgeous flesh for kissing. I heed the call, licking and sucking her honeysuckle skin as I move in her, going deeper.
Her hands slide into my hair, and she weaves her fingers through the strands, holding tight as she moans and murmurs, “So good. But it’d be better . . . like this.”
With the finesse of a dancer and the speed of the horny, she hooks her feet on my shoulders.
Yes. Fucking yes.
I drive deep into her. A high-voltage charge sparks in my body. I’m not far off, but I am determined to make everything so damn good for her.
Listening to her cues, reading her body, I keep a pace that drives her wild, that makes her writhe. Her face twists with agony, with the relentless chase of pleasure. When her eyes flicker open, those brown irises flash with passion, heat, and everything I didn’t know I could handle.
But now I know I can, and I want it all—this real love.
And as she whispers my name in a sultry, beautiful voice, I can’t fight the outcome any longer. Good thing she’s right there with me as we come together.
Later, we’re both boneless . . . laughing . . . happy. I drop a kiss onto her cheek. “Will you fuck me hard? Was that really the question you had for me?”