Page 128 of Wicked Fantasies

“Why not? You’re a writer, Gwen. You can’t tell me you don’t do detailed characters sketches prior to writing. I’ve read your books. Your characters jump off the page as if they are living, breathing entities. I’m an actor and a director. I attempt to do the same thing every time I take on a new role. I try to become the person I’m portraying. This could be an interesting experiment. Combining your writing skills with my acting ones to create these people. Think about it.”

She was spellbound by the enthusiasm, the energy that seemed to radiate from every part of him.

When she’d written the stories inEvening Songs, she had become incredibly attached to the fictional couples. They’d begun to feel like her family, her friends, and she’d missed them dearly when the book was finished.

The idea of bringing them back to life, of stepping into their skins with Ty, was more appealing than she could have imagined. “I’m not an actress.”

“You won’t be acting. These characters are you. You created them. They live inside you.”

“The sex?—”

“They have sex. We’re going to have sex. You’re only kidding yourself if you think we aren’t going to give in to this thing between us, Gwen. I’ve felt it since the first moment I laid eyes on you and I know it’s been the same for you. We’re adults and neither of us is in a relationship. What is there to hold us back?”

She considered his words, his invitation to join him in his bed to share her characters and her body with him. She was overwhelmed by how much she wanted what he was proposing.

Surely she could do this.

It was just sex, right?

She would simply have to make sure they didn’t cross over the boundary between normal sex and?—

She sighed. She would have to guard her fantasies carefully. There was no way she could let Ty see what dark desires lived inside her.

She looked up at him and grinned at his charming smile. Damn movie star would definitely rock her world in bed, which would be a welcome change from her toys. She was sick of having sex alone.

“Well?” he asked.

“When do we start?”

Chapter Four

Vignette One: The Honeymoon

“I thinkwe should start at the beginning,” Ty suggested once he’d secured her agreement. She nodded and walked toward the desk. She was about to sit down to boot up her computer when he halted her. “Oh no, Gwen. We can hardly write until we’ve laid the groundwork.”

“Groundwork?” Her heart skipped a beat as she knew exactly whatgroundworkhe intended to lay.

“Can you honestly tell me you’d be able to sit at that desk and write when your cunt is dripping wet with need?”

She sucked in a breath and started to deny his words, but he placed a gentle finger against her lips. “Don’t lie,” he said firmly, and her words died in her throat. “Your nipples are rock-hard and poking through that sheer blouse, tormenting me.” He leaned closer. “Your breathing is labored and I can practically hear your heart pounding from here. There’s no need to be nervous. We have all night.”

“It’s still daytime.” She winced at the foolishness of her comment.

“You were the one who wanted to fly all night after the wedding to get here. I’ve been very patient, Gwen, but I’m only human and a man only has one honeymoon.”

He was already assuming the role from her story, but he was definitely taking liberties with the lines and character.

“The bride’s name is Becca,” she said, correcting him in regards to the part she was supposedly playing.

He shook his head. “You and I will always be Ty and Gwen. Make no mistake of that.” He took a step back and smiled. “Take off your blouse. I haven’t seen those gorgeous tits of yours yet.”

She sucked in a nervous breath. In “The Honeymoon”, her character was a virgin who had saved herself for marriage.

Gwen was no virgin, no innocent in the bedroom, and regardless of Ty’s talent as an actor, she knew he wouldn’t be able to pull off the role of a bumbling, nervous groom.

Hell, given the way he was staring at her like a tiger stalking his prey, she got the feeling this honeymoon and the one in her book would be as similar as chocolate and mud.

With shaking hands, she began to undo the buttons of her blouse as he watched. His eyes grew dark with arousal and for a moment, she was struck again by the feeling of being watched by a very large, virile and hungry beast. He remained motionless as she slipped the silky material off her shoulders. She felt naked, despite the cover provided by her lacy bra.

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