Sugar on the Edge (18 page)

“I was almost raped in high school,” I say without preamble, deciding just to go ahead and blitz him with the information.

“What the fuck?” he says as he jolts upright in his seat and then leans forward to grab my hand again.

“By my boyfriend,” I continue while never letting my gaze drop from his. “We had been dating for a few months, and he was pressuring me to have sex. I wasn’t ready… I wasn’t in love with him, and I was a virgin. I didn’t want to give it up to him.”

Gavin grits his teeth hard, his eyes blazing. “What happened?”

“We were at a party… a bonfire, everyone was drinking. He was drunk, and I was drunk. He tried again, and I said ‘no.’ He apparently thought ‘no’ meant ‘yes’ and wouldn’t stop.”

“But he did stop,” Gavin demands with menace in his voice. He knows he stopped because I told him I was “almost” raped.

“Yes… only after someone heard me scream and interrupted him. He immediately jumped off me and left.”

“What did you do?”

“I went straight to the police and reported it,” I tell him sadly, because while it was the right thing to do, it caused so much more strife in my life than if I had just stayed silent.

“Good for you,” he says with a smile, squeezing my hand.

“No, not good for me,” I tell him as I pull my hand free from his grasp. “Going forward with my allegation was the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

Gavin blinks at me, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Kevin… my boyfriend… my attacker, was captain of the football team and the most popular guy in high school. His father was our small town’s beloved, local doctor. His mother was on the church choir. Kevin denied it happened, and no one believed me. He was my boyfriend after all. Everyone was of the mindset that a man can’t rape his girlfriend.”

“Tell me you’re joking. What about the person that saw it happening?”

“A friend of Kevin’s that wasn’t willing to testify to what he saw.”

“So what did you do?” he asks with trepidation.

“I did the only thing I could do. I told the truth and stuck to my guns. There was physical evidence. My clothes were torn, Kevin had choked me so I had bruises on my throat, and I had scratched him across the face. Coupled with my testimony, that was enough for the DA to press charges.”

“Was there a trial?”

“Yes. It was many months later, and I went through a living hell to get there. I lost all my friends because no one would believe me. I was bullied… physically pushed around by girls who all had a crush on Kevin and wouldn’t believe it of their popular sports star. Guys would grab at me, thinking I was loose. Adults in the community shunned me because I was bringing disgrace to our sleepy town. Even the local paper wrote editorial opinions taking his side. My parents were the only ones that stood by me.”

“You’re fucking kidding? Who does stuff like that?”

“The town of Clearview, Indiana,” I tell him evenly.

Gavin swallows hard, and I can see a bit of fear in his eyes. “How did it end?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Justice prevailed. He was convicted of sexual battery. Got a year and a half in prison, but was out in nine months.”

“How is that justice?” Gavin asks angrily.

I give him a soft look of assurance… letting him know that I’m okay. “It’s justice because the jury agreed with me that Kevin tried to rape me. After everything I went through… that was the most important thing that could happen for me. Didn’t matter to me what his sentence was—it was that I proved everyone in that fucking town wrong.”

Gavin is quiet a moment, digesting my story. He pushes slowly out of his chair and walks to the opposite side of the table, dropping to his knees beside me. He grabs my face in his hands and leans in to kiss me on my lips. It’s our first kiss, and it’s soft and sweet, filled with care. I realize… that Gavin and I had sex today, and he never even kissed me on the lips until now.

How very strange.

How very naughty and thrillingly bad.

When he pulls away, Gavin says, “Oh, Sweet… after hearing that story, you are, without a doubt, the strongest heroine I’ve ever known.”

My words are coming faster than they ever have as I bang out page after page on my manuscript. Honey has been transformed completely. After she takes it upon herself to give Max a stellar blow job while he’s driving his royal blue, Shelby Mustang GT500 with white racing stripes down the hood, she informs him that she’s going to fight by his side. The only thing she asks in return is that he fuck her hard and never leave her. No… she doesn’t ask… she
demands
it of him.

I’ll never leave you,
Max vows.

Who would have thought that Max would ever entertain the thought of monogamy?

My phone rings, startling me and completely fucking up my concentration. Sighing, I grab it and see it’s Lindie calling from New York.

“You’re disturbing me,” I grumble into the phone when I connect.

“Well, if you’d return a call, text, or email once in a while, I wouldn’t be forced to perform such a dastardly deed,” she throws back at me. “So how are things going?”

“They’re fine,” I tell her, my eyes glancing over the last few paragraphs I just wrote. “I’m going to need another few weeks though.”

“No can do,” she tells me. “Your editor said no more extensions.”

“Well, if they want a completed manuscript, they’re going to have to fucking wait,” I snarl, having no time to argue about this shit. God, I long for the days of self-publishing.

“Are you drinking?” Lindie asks suspiciously.

“Not at the moment,” I tell her as I stand from my desk, walking over to the glass doors that lead out on to the deck. The sun is hanging bright this morning, casting silver sparkles on the blue-green of the Atlantic. They twinkle merrily; sometimes a strong ray of light causes a sharp burst of brightness that hits me in my eyes and dazzles me.

“Tell me you got your shit together, Gavin,” she implores. “That you do not need this extra time because you’re sunk deep in the bottle.”

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I reassure her. “I’m fine. I’ve just added a new character to the book and it’s taking me a bit longer.”

“Wait a minute… you can’t do that. They’re expecting a very specific story line.”

“And they’ll get the same story line,” I placate. “Just with a little bit more added.”

“Don’t fuck this up, Gavin,” she tells me straight, and that’s why I pay her. To keep me straight.

“Stop worrying. Get me two weeks and you’ll have a masterpiece,” I promise.

We talk some more about the publishing schedule, another manuscript she wants to pitch for me, and updates me on the status of her negotiating a movie deal for the trilogy. It all goes in one ear and out the other, because all I can think about now that I’ve stepped five feet away from my laptop is Savannah.

The anti-heroine who would be heroine. She’s the reason I need the extra few weeks on my manuscript. Not only has she thrown my story for a loop, but she also has me wanting another taste of her. And I don’t think just one more taste is going to satisfy me for some reason.

I had always figured I’d head back to London when I was finished with this manuscript, but now I’m not sure if I’m ready to give up her brand of sweet just yet.

“Are you listening to me, Gavin?” Lindie asks in exasperation.

“Not a word,” I tell her honestly. “I need to get back to writing.”

“Don’t forget… you have a book signing in Chicago next month.”

Fuck… I did forget. The last thing I want to do is go sit at a table while a long line of people wait to meet me. “Email me the details so I can put it all on my calendar.”

After I hang up with Lindie, I stare at my phone for a moment. I look back to my laptop and the manuscript that is begging for me to massage it, and then look back to my phone. Before I can stop myself, I text Savannah.

What are you doing right now?

Slipping my phone in my pocket, I decide to go downstairs for a snack, but I get an immediate chime and pull my phone back up. She responded.

Reading your book. You?

My thumb grazes over the screen… over Savannah’s words, and I think about our dinner last night. Her story—about how she was nearly raped and the hell she went through to get vindicated—amazes me. It made me realize that I had truly misjudged her. I didn’t give her credit for this calm, inner strength that she seems to possess. Over the last several months, I had let myself refuse to believe that any woman could possess those traits.

And yet, here was a woman that was absolutely gorgeous, sweetly innocent, yet with a backbone of steel who made my cock hard all the time. My attraction to her went through the roof after she shared her “secret” with me, yet at the end of the night, when I took her back home and walked her to the door, I did so with the absolute conviction I was not going to be fucking her that night.

Before she even had a chance to unlock her door, I bent down and with one hand cupping her face, gave her a very short, very chaste kiss before I said, “Goodnight, Sweet.”

Confusion filled those beautiful eyes, and she said, “I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying goodnight,” I affirmed. “And I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

I turned to leave her, because if I looked at her another moment, I was going to drag her down to the wooden porch and fuck the hell out of her. And that wouldn’t have been right… not after she just told me about getting attacked and mauled by a man that clearly felt he had the right to take what he wanted.

Just like me half the time. I take without any regard to the consequences I would leave behind. I’ve already done it once with Savannah and, if I did it again, it would almost make me feel like I was no better than that monster Kevin.

“Did I do something wrong?” Savannah had asked before I could make my way off her porch.

Turning back to her, I took her face in my hands. I leaned down and kissed her again. This time not so sweet, not so chaste, and my dick got all excited for what it thought might be coming. But I pulled away, kissed her nose, and said, “No, Sweet… you happen to do everything just right.”

Then I left her standing by her door. I tried to forget her for a while. In the two hours I was working on my manuscript, completely lost in my writing zone, I had indeed pushed her away. But for almost every other minute of my conscious time, she’s been plaguing my mind. I laid in bed last night, thinking of how badly I needed her yesterday… how I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from fucking her on the top of my kitchen table, and I thought about how hard I had indeed fucked her and how fucking mind-blowing the orgasm I had was. Then I jacked off to the memory and was satisfied for a while.

Then that passed, and I was left wanting again.

I text her back.
Let’s go for a ride.

She responds immediately.
Shouldn’t you be writing?

I need a break. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.

The only thing she wrote back was,
Okay.