The Romance Novel Cure (13 page)

“You wrote that? What… what do you mean?”

Greta stood up, twisting her hands together. She paced in front of me, while I looked on, bewildered. She stopped directly in front of me and crossed her arms.

“I… wrote… it.” Her voice shook.

“Wait a minute… Silas Fox. Our last name, Fox… the socks. I sound like Dr. Seuss. What the… Greta?”

She nodded, mute, her eyes pleading.

“Wait, what?” I asked, shaking my head.

“I …” She swallowed.

“Wait, just wait… you’re the
author
?”

She nodded.

“Mireya Santos?
You
?” I stared at Greta.

She nodded, opened her mouth, and closed it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, sitting back, frowning. I felt confused, tricked.

“It was my secret,” she moaned, sitting down. “I kept trying to think of a way to tell you. But it had been my secret for too long.”

I felt mad, but not completely over the top angry. I always found it hard to stay mad at her. Her eyes implored me, so blue with tears trembling on the lashes. I started to grin despite the feelings of confusion and betrayal.

“What the …?” I laughed, rubbing my eyes.

She smiled tentatively.

“That’s why you didn’t say the Silas books were your favorite. Because you
wrote
them.” I couldn’t believe it.

She nodded. “Can you imagine how thrilling it was for me to hear you say you liked them better than the Caspian books?” She rolled her eyes upward, sighing in pleasure.

“I…” I just stared at her, trying to form words. “I’m rapid cycling through feeling mad at you for not telling me, impressed as heck that you’ve written these books, and completely turned on,” I admitted.

Greta bit down on her lips, trying not to laugh. “Lots of feelings,” she said.

“But it’s as though you tricked me. All these nights, reading together.” I frowned.

“I am so sorry.” She looked very upset. “Every single night, I told myself to tell you. Every day! And then, I just felt embarrassed. I swear, I didn’t mean to trick you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got used to keeping Greta and Mireya separate, and it was completely messing with my brain having my two worlds collide. I kept telling myself: tomorrow night. Tell him. I rehearsed how to say it, Ben! Casually, seriously, sexily… I tried out how to tell you! And then I’d get swept away, and would forget, just lost in the story. And then, I would start stressing about it all over again. Once we got to the socks comment, yeah, I knew my secret was out, the way it should be. The way it should have been, all along.”

I just stared at her, rubbing my forehead. What could I say?

She waited, looking at me, biting her lip.

“You read the rest,” I said, sitting back, my hands behind my head, getting comfortable.
Listen to Greta.

“No, oh, Ben. No,” she said, blushing.

“Read, Mrs. Fox. Read.”

* * *

“You’ve got way too many clothes on,” murmured Sera, as he kissed her neck. He slid his arms beneath her and turned her over so she was face down on the couch.

“It helps me,” he whispered, stroking her hair to one side, kissing the back of her neck. He bit her there, softly, and kissed her again.

“Helps you?” She was breathless.

“Helps me wait,” he growled, kissing a chain of slow, wet kisses down the length of her spine…

Tears flooded her eyes. She had never felt as close to anyone else as she did right at this pure moment in time. Silas was right there with her, waiting until she began her ascent, joining her, his voice crying out, sounding like a wild thing unleashed into the dark autumn night.

* * *

By the time I read the last word, I was shaky, feeling so much. I looked across the couch at Ben, who was watching me. I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt so exposed, and passionate. Those words: now he knew that I had written them.

“Ben,” I said, my throat feeling dry.

I set my Kindle down, and crawled over to where he sat in the corner, a pillow on his lap. I tugged the pillow off, Ben’s eyes intent on mine, his chest rising and falling quickly. I sat on his lap, running my hands up his chest to the back of his neck. I touched his hair.

“It’s so short now,” I murmured. I used to be able to grab a handful of his hair, loving the feel of it between my fingers.

“You don’t like it,” he whispered, looking at my mouth.

“I love it,” I whispered back, scratching my nails lightly on the back of his head and neck. “Love it. Love
you
.”

“Can I kiss you,” he said, not making it a question, his voice hoarse.

I nodded. He took my head in his hands and then stopped.

“Greta,” he said, very low. “Just kissing. Just right here. Okay?”

I breathed in and out, touching his jaw.

“I want more,” I admitted.

Ben shook his head, his expression stern. “Not gonna happen.”

I tried to kiss him, but he held my head gently, but firmly. He shook his head, slowly. I sighed in frustration, but nodded my head. I wanted him even more now. “Whatever you say, Benjamin.”

He nodded, and pulled me closer.

Our lips met, our tongues colliding. We kissed until I was breathing in little gasps. Ben eased me down on the couch, stretched on top of me, kissing me. I knew he had to be feeling frustrated, as needy as I was feeling.

“Ben… more,” I whispered into his ear.

He pulled his head back from kissing my ear, his eyes stormy. He shook his head silently.

“Who made you the boss,” I laughed, half angry, half amused.

“Me,” he growled, kissing my mouth again, his tongue lazily exploring and tasting. I wriggled, and Ben shifted on top of me. Did he know what he had done? I made a sound. Ben drew back just a little, looking at my face. He looked as though he knew exactly what he was doing, a knowing and erotic expression hot in his eyes.

“I’m just kissing you,” he said, his voice so dark and sexy. “Just… kissing… you.”

Biting my lower lip softly, he pressed against me, and I cried out, trembling. “Ben!”

Ben slid his tongue in my mouth, eased his weight a little more onto me, and pressed against me and that was it, I felt as though I cracked open and shattered into a million pieces of light, scattering.

I opened my eyes, moments later, unable to catch my breath, to see Ben looking into my face. He was stroking my hair back, his expression thrilled and anguished.

“You good?” he whispered.

“Ben, oh, Ben,” I said, brokenly, a lump in my throat. I lifted my hands, stroked his face. “Now you. You.” I began to move, sliding my hands from his back to his hips. He caught my hands.

“Nope,” he said gently, amusement and affection and passion all there in his expression. He grasped my wrists in one hand, above my head for a moment while he kissed me, slowly.

“Sex boss,” I laughed, feeling giddy.

“Yep,” he nodded.

I was thrilled, and shy, still tingling all over.

* * *

“Your scent intoxicates me,” murmured Silas, holding her closely in the glow from the embers in the fireplace. He kissed her neck, sweetly and slowly.

Sera was still catching her breath, trembling all over. She reached behind her and stroked his long hair. “So soft.”

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Silas leaned forward to see her face. His hair slipped lower down on her chest, tickling her.

“I’m good,” she said, sighing. “What about you, want me to make you a sandwich or something? Hey, is the food I have… okay for you?”

“What, you think I need special fox food?” he laughed softly.

“Shut up,” laughed Sera, “it’s not as though I’ve dated a shifter before.”

“Dated…? You and I? We’re mated.”

“Wait, that sounds…”

“For life.”

* * *

Take care of Greta.

I must have looked different when I walked into work. Maybe it was my expression, or how I carried myself, I don’t know. But Scott, Laura, and Alma stopped what they were doing and stared at me, when I came in the door. I stopped, looking back at them.

“What?” I asked, looking down at myself, then back at the three of them.

“Oh, hi,” said Alma, looking down quickly, getting back to work.

“Morning, sunshine,” smiled Laura, heading for the supply room.

Scott just crossed his arms and smiled at me.

I smiled, nodded, feeling embarrassed, and sat down at my desk. Scott came and hang over the cubicle wall.

“So….?” He raised his eyebrows.

I looked steadily at him.

“Oh, you are no fun,” he pouted. “Let me live vicariously through you! Patrick and I…” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then patted it back in place.

“Have you ever tried reading to each other?” I asked. I wondered if there were any romantic novels for guys who like guys. There had to be. I sent a quick text to Greta, asking her.

“Reading to each other? Like, from relationship books? I’ve been reading
How to Help When it Hurts: Saving Your Marriage from the Inside Out, a Guide for Couples Feeling Hopeless about their Marriage
by Dr. Elinor Holland-Strathmore, PhD. But, I have not been reading it out loud to Patrick.” Scott looked both eager and doubtful at the same time.

I showed my phone to Scott. Greta had just texted a link to a novel.

“
The Secret Boyfriend
by D.R. Robbs,” read Scott. “Hm, so… what? A little story time for grown ups?”

I shrugged, then looked up at him, grinning.

“What, you get a little
story
time going on? Get your juice box and
cookies
?” Scott nodded slyly.

“Uh, I don’t know where you’re going with this? But I’m starting to feel uncomfortable…” I laughed.

“I don’t even know,” he admitted. “I’m obviously overwrought.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, trying to stop laughing.

“I’ll try anything,” he said, getting out his phone and having me send him the title and author link. “I’m sending you the spa day gift certificate now, you can print it out. There’s a link and everything about the spa. I was going to suggest meeting for brunch first, but then I thought they should have the all day spa package.”

“Thanks. And… Patrick is lucky to have you,” I said, “I know how much you love him.”

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’m the lucky one, believe me. Someday I’ll tell you about how the two of us met. I was an absolute wreck before he showed up in my life.”

Scott went back to his desk and I worked hard, the time slipping by as I created a line of labels for a family owned salsa company.

When Ben got home, he had a surprise for me: a bouquet of beautiful pink and white striped roses. Nestled in them was a card, and it turns out it was a gift certificate for a spa day on Saturday. I was speechless. I’d never been to a spa before.

“I’ll feel like a bride!” I blurted, then hugged Ben, hiding my face.

“A bride?” He smoothed his hands up and down my back. “Would you marry me all over again?” He asked me, going still.

“Of course I would,” I said, holding him closer, my eyes filling with tears.

Ben sank to his knees and looked up at me, completely serious. “Greta, will you stay married to me?”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. This was
happening
. This was my life. This amazing man, who I was more in love with each day, was pledging his devotion, all over again. Ben would choose me, all over again. I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

“Yes,” I said vehemently, blinking back tears. “I love you, Ben. I always have. I always will.”

He stood up slowly, and looked into my eyes. My stomach felt as though it did a complete somersault. Maybe a cartwheel, even. There was so much tenderness and affection in his expression, deep within his eyes, but also an edgy need, as well. I stepped backwards, tugging his hand. He looked warningly at me, and slowed, but I backed into the guest room, raising my eyebrows, pulling him with me. He came willingly.

I stood with my legs against the bed and pulled off my shirt, hearing Ben catch his breath. I leaned back and stretched out on the bed, Ben standing still in the center of the room, staring at me. I lifted my hips up and tugged my old striped pajama bottoms down, then raised my legs. “Pull?”

Ben took my pajama bottom legs and pulled them off, and there I was, completely naked in the shadowy light from the hallway. Except for my socks. I lifted my feet, one at a time, and he pulled them off.
Sockless
.

With an exhalation, Ben was suddenly on top of me, kissing my neck, and running his hand down my side, then cupping my face.

“You have way too many clothes on,” I said, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

“It helps me,” he said, breathing heavily, looking down at me.

“Helps you?” I asked, beginning to smile

“Helps me
wait
,” he growled, flashing a grin.

“No more waiting,” I laughed breathlessly, watching while he pulled off his shirt. He leaned down to kiss me again, but I put a hand on his chest. “Everything.”

Later: I woke up in the middle of the night, at first wondering where I was. The feel of Ben’s arm around me brought the entire evening back to me. I tried to keep still, not wanting to wake him, savoring the feel of him so close to me. I was thirsty, though, so I started to slide out from under his arm.

“Where you going?” Ben mumbled against me, holding me tighter.

I turned to face him, kissing his neck, jaw, and cheek. “I’m thirsty. You want some water?”

He opened his eyes slowly, starting to smile at me. He pulled me closer. I bit his shoulder and got up. I brought a glass of water for Ben, and we sat up together, in the dark.

“I’ve got to admit,” he said, in a scratchy, sleepy voice, “more than a few times? I caught myself wondering if Mireya Santos was married, or had a boyfriend, thinking he was a lucky guy to be the recipient of all that, ah, imagination.”

“You had a crush on her, didn’t you?” I said in mock outrage. “Didn’t you? And it was
me
!”

“No, no I didn’t,” laughed Ben. “I was too busy crushing on my wife.”

“Truth is, she is the lucky one. Her writing is inspired by all the love and sexy times with her husband,” I said, stroking Ben’s hair.

“I still can’t believe, all those times I was reading, those words were written by you.”

“Did you ever do any one handed reading? Reading the Silas book?” I tickled his side.

“One handed reading?” Ben laughed, grabbing my hand.

I nodded.

“Oh, that is naughty,” he said, pulling me closer.

“Admit it!” I sat on him, and hit him with a pillow.

“And now there’s spanking? This just gets raunchier and raunchier.” Ben grabbed the pillow and pinned me, and kissed me. “And… yes, of
course
.”