Spoiler Alert (Spoiler Alert #1)(23)

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: They banged and enjoyed it. If it’s a perfunctory boning, only mildly enjoyable for all involved, sure, I can overlook the transgression. But if multiple, mutual orgasms are had: NOPE.

Book!AeneasWouldNever: I didn’t actually read the love scenes closely. Thus, I bow to your superior wisdom on this issue.

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: THANK YOU. Now, on to more important matters.

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: Speaking of slow burns: Are you feeling better? Fever all gone?

Book!AeneasWouldNever: Yes. Thank you for asking, Ulsie. :-)





7


THE SEXY FICS WERE AN EXCUSE, OF COURSE.

April definitely didn’t want Marcus reading them or telling his two million followers about them before she’d explained herself to the Lavineas community, but they didn’t constitute an insurmountable obstacle to a second date.

What did: Marcus’s insistence on performing for her.

Sometimes, on certain job sites, the driller used a direct push rig to collect soil samples, instead of a hollow-stem auger rig. It was easier that way. Cleaner too.

The downside: They often couldn’t get beyond a certain depth with a direct push rig.

On one job, they’d had to stop a mere three feet below the surface, because they kept getting refusal again and again. Until, in the end, they’d had to swap rigs, because they weren’t accomplishing anything.

The experience was entirely too reminiscent of tonight’s date with Marcus.

With their conversation about the Gods of the Gates crew, she’d gotten three feet down.

Then she’d hit refusal. Again and again.

If he didn’t want her to see below his very attractive surface, she wouldn’t. Simple as that. But since the surface didn’t interest her nearly as much as what lay underneath, she wasn’t courting frustration by going on a second date with him. No matter how much she suddenly wanted him.

As shocked as she remained that he evidently wanted her. At least enough to request a second meeting.

This was truly the oddest date ever.

She’d eaten several bites of her lemon-lavender panna cotta—delicious, not soapy-tasting at all—before she realized he hadn’t spoken for quite a while. When she looked up, he was staring at her, his face . . .

It was slack. Blank.

Until, in a blink, it wasn’t anymore. Instead, that aggravating, empty smile beamed out at her once more. “You really don’t want me to read your stories?”

She considered the matter for a few moments.

“I mean, I guess you can. But it might be a little weird, like I said.” Getting weirder by the moment, actually. “If you do, check the ratings before you start. To avoid unnecessary awkwardness, I’d skip the ones rated E for explicit.”

He seemed particularly intrigued by his panna cotta now. In a slow, careful movement, he delved into the custard and emerged with a perfect spoonful. “Maybe I’ll read one of your stories someday. I can always skim key portions, as needed.”

No way he’d ever actually go on AO3 and look for her fics. But still—

“Pretty Man, my prostitute/client modern alternate universe . . .” She crinkled her nose. “Yeah, don’t choose that one. You’d be skimming the whole thing.”

It was one of her earliest fics, written before her partnership with BAWN, and it wasn’t her best work.

Marcus looked up from another delicate spoon incursion into his dessert. His smooth cheeks—he must have shaved right before coming to the restaurant—creased in a sudden grin.

His brow quirked. “I take it I’m the prostitute?”

“Aeneas is the prostitute,” she emphasized.

“But he’s pretty.” He took his time savoring the spoonful of custard. “Thus the title.”

“Well, yes.” Obviously.

“And since you said Aeneas looks like me in your fics, that must mean—”

“Yes, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re very pretty, Marcus. Which you well know.”

His grin abruptly died, and she had no idea why shadows seemed to gather beneath blue-gray eyes gone solemn. Intent. So unexpectedly vulnerable that something twisted inside her chest.

Not her heart. Definitely not her heart.

“In your story . . .” He played with his spoon, looking down as he rotated it in his grip again and again. “Is he only pretty?”

Ah. There it was. A new layer beneath that pristine surface of his.

And dammit, yes, that was her heart aching for him. Just a little.

“He’s very pretty. Gorgeous.” With a seemingly idle motion, she tapped her spoon against her porcelain ramekin until he raised his stricken eyes to her again. Then she told him the rest. “Also underestimated and honorable and quite intelligent. I have no interest in writing about a man who offers nothing but good looks and easy charm. But hidden depths fascinate me.”

There it was. One last chance.

And if he was as smart as she was beginning to suspect he was, he’d realize it.

Marcus blinked at her, lines scoring deep between his brows. But he didn’t say anything more, and she didn’t intend to push him anywhere he didn’t want to go.

She couldn’t resist one final nudge, though. “Have you ever been tempted to write a fix-it fic yourself? A story where you’d put right whatever went wrong in the show? After Dido and Aeneas’s relationship went off the rails, maybe?”