Sugar on the Edge (Last Call #3)(17)

I blink at her hard, because that wasn’t the answer I was expecting. I figured she’d fumble over her words, cheeks flaring hotter, and try to find a way to deny she was turned on. Instead, she saw straight through to the subtle hint of truth in my words and exposed it brightly before me.

“You see a lot,” I tell her, turning back to my food.

“It was also pretty damn hot, too,” she says as an afterthought, and I can hear the smile in her voice, although I don’t look back at her.

We eat in silence for a bit, and that’s no chore because f*ck… the woman can cook. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal, and Asian cuisine is my favorite.

“What are you working on now?” Savannah asks and because it’s no secret, I tell her.

“New York loved the book so much that they want to turn it into a trilogy.”

“So, you’re going to leave me with a major cliffhanger at the end of Killing the Tides?”

“Actually, no. When I wrote it, I made it a stand-alone. I had no intention of ever writing another book after that… ever again.”

“Why?” she exclaims. “You’re really gifted… I can’t imagine you not continuing on.”

I shrug my shoulders again and damn… I would like to claim indifference to her praise. I’ve had hundreds of people compliment my work, but none of those accolades seemed to cause a warm feeling in the center of my chest like Savannah’s simple words do now.

“Well, I’m continuing on now, aren’t I? Besides, they waved too much money for me to ignore,” I tell her simply.

“I call bullshit on you. I think you would have written another book with or without them offering you a dime,” she says before she takes another bite of her dinner.

“Maybe,” I hedge, because I’m not so sure. I was so drained after finishing Killing the Tides, that I wanted to do nothing but crawl inside of a bottle and drink myself away.

Which is exactly what I did.

“What’s the next book about?” she asks. “Without spoiling anything for me.”

Chuckling, I get up from the counter and head to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water that Savannah was kind enough to stock for me. “Much of the same… my hero Max will have a new problem to quell in the streets of New York. And he’ll f*ck his way through a bevy of beauties while he’s at it.”

“Of course he will,” she says drily. “Any other hints?”

I stare at her a moment, and it hits me hard that she is really quite gorgeous. While she’s a little too saccharine for my proclivities, I can’t deny that she’s actually pretty f*cking hot. She’s a little too thin and probably would bruise easily, but her dark hair and amber eyes, along with her smooth skin, begs my attention. Unfortunately, she’d probably break too easy under my rough ministrations so I dismiss the thought of f*cking her, even though my cock seems to sigh in frustration over said banishment.

“I wrote a new character into my book yesterday,” I tell her. “I’m basing her off you.”

Savannah’s eyebrows shoot sky high, and she gives me a lopsided grin. “You mean I’m going to be a heroine in your book?”

“Sadly, no. You’re more like an anti-heroine,” I tell her truthfully.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s like an important figure in the book, but they don’t possess the conventional heroine traits.”

“Oh,” she says matter-of-factly. “So, no red cape and superhuman powers to help Max battle evil?”

“Sorry, babe,” I tell her as I walk back over to my seat. “You just don’t have what it takes. In fact, I think you’re going to meet quite the gruesome ending.”

“Bummer,” she says while toying with her food.

“If it’s any consolation, Max is going to give you a few great orgasms before you meet your demise.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” she says, and then sets her fork down. “So, exactly how did you paint me in your novel?”

I scoop up a bite of rice and vegetables, pop it in my mouth, and chew. After I swallow, I set my fork back down. “No offense, but you’re kind of timid. You’re the type of woman that takes whatever is handed to her, and tries to make the best of it. You’re not very proactive, with no real gumption to take your fate into your own hands. That’s how I’m developing the character. I mean, she’ll have the best of intentions, but she’s always going to wait for Max to save her, rather than try to save herself.”

She just stares at me. Her face is impassive at first, but then I see a kernel of heat start to glow. “That is so not me,” she huffs.

“Yes, it is. You’re a passive woman.”

Savannah grips the edge of the counter. “You don’t know me at all.”

“I know enough.”

“Give me one example,” she dares me.

“Okay… earlier today, when I told you that you were making too much noise with the hoover, and then I told you to use the broom, you just took it from me. You didn’t lay into me for manhandling you, you apologized even though I was the ass, and you just accepted what I told you to do. And I may appear to be a slob, but even I know that you can’t use a broom on the area rugs. You have to use the hoover to clean those. Yet, you never stood up for yourself.”