We sat there, neither of us speaking. The enveloping calm reminded me that this man had always been a comfort, even when we were only friends.
He didn’t try and talk to me or even touch me. Coen kept his distance, sitting there calmly. Instead of fidgeting, I continued writing, spilling out my soul into the pages of my manuscript. This felt right, and we both knew it.
Moments passed. No words spoken, and unlike most people that would be uncomfortable in this kind of situation, it was perfect. We never required small talk or chatter. We only needed each other. In this moment, I knew that he was home. He’d always be my home.
Getting up from the bench I’d been using as my own personal office, I packed up and headed for my house.
He followed, and I didn’t argue. I wanted this.
“I’ve missed you.” His words caressed my heart. They wrapped around it, squeezing it in every way possible. It hurt. It felt great.
His hands embraced my face. We made it through the door. He slammed me against the wall and kicked the door closed. Coen coaxed my mouth with his tongue, swiping across the bottom lip with force. Our kiss was greedy, angry, and damn near desperate. Not once had he ever forced anything like this. our kissing was always love making with our mouths. This was not one of those times. He was so fucking sexy. I wanted this. I needed it.
His hand gripped my waist, playing with my belt loops and pulling me flush to him. He grinded into me, and a moan spilled from my lips. I traveled across his abs, fingering each ridge and dip. Why’d a man with such an impeccable body want someone like me? I’m not good enough for him.
When his body left mine, I felt the emptiness immediately. My eyes met his hazy ones. They were glazed over in arousal but also cloaked with regret. I never thought I’d see that in them. The tears came before I could stop them.
He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.” And he left out the door we came in.
21
A Bunch of Nope
Author Dating Rule #121: We tend to compare grand gestures to our books.
Sorry in advance. It’s inevitable.
Rebel
Seeing Coen threw me off kilter. I wasn’t used to dominance, and it surprisingly turned me on.
Him running away was an entire story itself. I needed to get him off my mind and to forget that had happened.
Maybe I needed a fling. A rebound. Either way, I had to get some action of some sort, or I’d combust. No more guilt. No longer a walking contradiction. He’s done fucking with my heart and mind. I’m done.
The thought of someone else touching my body made me queasy, and my throat closed up. I’d only been with three guys, ever. Flings weren’t my thing, and men I didn’t really know weren’t either.
Coen had to fuck everything up and mess around with Becky-with-the-bitch-face. Felicity. Her name angered me. Even if I were being childish, I hated her. I might be immature for not trusting him, but as a nearly thirty-year-old, I needed to get my life together. No more bullshit, no more stringing along, and no clingy fucking exes.
I pictured Coen’s nearly perfect smile, his amazing body, and the way he made me feel when the doors were closed. My frown came easily. He'd ruined me for all other men. I’d never recover from his love, let alone the way he made me come like no other.
Today we left for our cruise. Yippee! But I didn’t feel it yet, the excitement wasn’t truly there. I’d got my banner, swag, and essentials ready for the week long venture.
My bags were packed and ready. I’d be meeting epic authors, including CoHo herself. It’d been a dream since I'd opened Hopeless and read it the first time. Colleen Hoover is and always would be my idol. I love way she respected others, caring when she didn’t have to, bringing beautiful stories to life, her use of the one-finger salute, and being an all-around inspiration. Yeah, she was spastic in her own way, but it only drove me to be just as cool as her someday. This was my chance to make the meet a reality, to try and not fangirl over the author who made me love romance. Yes, authors fan-girled too. Sometimes, I believed we fan-girled harder than normal people. We were crazy, you know? Hearing voices in our heads and writing them down on paper to share the insanity.
“Stace! The cab is here!” I screeched in excitement.
She bounded down the stairs, a smile on her face and more bags than I owned in her arms. “Ready!” she squealed, doing a shimmy with her hips.
I slung my bag over my shoulder, rolled my other case, and headed to the airport with my best friend in tow.
Our flight came and gone, I slept through it, again. We were now in California readying to board our ship. The ocean smiled back at us, waving its watery whitecaps and welcoming our crazy asses to the west coast. That song by Phantom Planet played in my head as I crossed the road to the ship. It was ginormous.
“Holy Jesus, we aren’t sinking this bitch.” Stace stifled a laugh, knowing full well that water terrified me. Creatures, sharks mostly, lived under the sea, and it freaked me out my entire life, especially now that I traveled in a buoy on an ocean full of possibilities. Fuck me.
“Sometimes I don’t know why I bring you anywhere.” I side-eyed her while the dipping feeling in my gut ate at my conscious.
“You bring me along for entertainment, babes. I bring the life to your life.”
“Or death. Early death is a possibility with you around, Stace,” I groaned. Both nervous and excited to board the ship and get the fuck outta dodge. “You know you saying bringing life to my life is completely redundant?” I chastised.
“Fuck you very much.” She smiled, making her way up the dock, and I trailed behind her.
Coen
“Hurry the fuck up!” I grimaced at Conor. We’d arrived in California late, and only had thirty minutes to dock.
We ran toward the ship before we missed our check-in time. There was no sign of Rebel or Stace. Thank god.
How did one woo an author and still appear sane? The answer…you didn’t. You couldn’t have it both ways, and I always chose her. I’d always choose her.
My heart felt hollow since walking out on her. Not only did it feel hollow, but it felt tore up. She literally ripped the stitching that held our hearts together, but in the process, she stole mine too. I might have run for the hills after being aggressive in her house, but I couldn’t fuck her and leave. I needed more. I needed love and commitment, a forever kind of love and not simply sex and pleasure.
Conor and I checked in and searched for our room. A package sat at the foot of the door. Weird since no other rooms adorned one. After lifting it up and praying to God it wasn’t a joke, I unlocked the door and took it with me.
“What do you think it is?” Conor asked from behind me. He set down his bags and sat on my bed next to me.
“Hell if I know. Maybe Stace stopped by.” I pondered the thought. “What happened between you two?”
From the expression painted on his face, I realized I shouldn’t have brought her up.
“Sore subject?” I winked, trying to lighten his mood. He’d never been forthcoming of whatever the hell they were doing.
“Not really wanting a girl who seeks marriage. I’m a teacher for fuck’s sake. There’s no time to dedicate to one.”