Page 54 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

The transcript of his words would read as harmless and matter-of-fact. A Method acting of sorts, since I’ve only had lousy sex thus far and as a romance writer would benefit from the hands-on learning experience. But I read the subtext in his eyes.

Jack’s ulterior motives are as stark as a plane shooting across a clear sky, and I’m walking toward them with my eyes wide open.

I suck in my last normal breath before what I’m certain will change the way I categorize time. From now on there will only be BSB (before scene blocking) and ASB.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

One quick breath is all he needs before pushing off the counter and taking my hand.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Your scene starts inside the front door of Kate’s cottage. So we’re going to the front door.”

We round the corner, and he drops my hand when we’re standing at the door. I hate how much I miss the contact immediately. Jack has held my hand a few times now and each one is better than the last.

“All right, what next?” I ask, mustering more bravado than I feel.

“Now show me what happens in your scene.”

“You’re kidding. I thought you were the one blocking the scene. I didn’t sign up to act out my own words.”

He smirks. “Intimidated by me?”

Always.But I can also appreciate a good challenge.

I put my hand directly on the center of his chest and shove. He stumbles back until he’s flush with the door. Just like in my scene. I step closer and rise up on my toes, nearly level with his blazing eyes. “Insert hot passionate kiss here that has them droppingclothes, sinking to the floor, and her straddling him as they both climax together.” I notice his pupils flare and I smile. “Careful, Jack. So far, it doesn’t look like you’re too bored with my scene.”

His answering smile terrifies me. He leans close, pushes my hair back from my ear and over the back of my shoulder, exposing my collarbone, and whispers low, “But that’s the problem. It’s not about me. It’s about you. And so far, all you’ve been worried about is how I am responding.” He runs his hand from my shoulder down to my fingers, takes them gently, and then guides me with him to turn our bodies and reverse our positions. “Now…” he says. “What if your scene was all about her instead? What if the primary focus was her pleasure?”

“That seems selfish,” I breathe out.

The curve of his mouth is a potent drug. “I love when a woman is selfish.”

His index finger touches the place just below my navel and pushes ever so gently. I go back against the door as easy as a feather tipped over in the wind. He doesn’t follow me immediately, though, like I did with him. He stands there and his eyes take a slow caress over every damn inch of my body. Suddenly, I’m aware of how thin this fabric is. Sheer. I think of telling my sisters that I wear this type of lingerie for me. Because a man would never appreciate it the same. But Jack is appreciating it. He’s even nice enough to voice it. “This gown is beautiful on you.”

His gaze skips down me like rocks across a pond. Each stop is punctuated with special attention. A devouring, hungry look on his face that haswantflooding my body and chills pricking my skin. His eyes are invisible hands—I feel them everywhere they linger.

Finally he steps forward and runs his finger along the thin strap, following it down toward my chest but stopping at the little bow. “Do you know these outfits torture me? Every single one of them.”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. Is this part of the scene?

He dips his face and breathes his way down my temple to my ear. “I like them on you a lot.” He pauses.

“Is this you starting the scene?” I ask.

“Sure.” He smiles. “And next I’d probably ask what you like.” He pauses, lips hovering over my skin, and I imagine that a kiss on my shoulder would normally happen in that moment. “Do you orgasm easily, or does it take more time?”

“Umm. Is this an example of potential dialogue or are you really asking me?” I sound scandalized. How dare he say the O-word so casually to me.Jack.The man who didn’t even say goodbye to me before he left town is using my own desire to pin me to the door.

“It’s up to you…choose your own adventure, scene-blocking edition. Feel free to skip or…engage at any point.”

This should be illegal.

“Um…” I clear my throat. “It’s rare if it happens with someone else.”

“I see,” he says tenderly. “Do you feel like you can tell your partners this ahead of time?”

“God no. It would put too much pressure on them.” His body heat curls around me like steam.

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