“Why not?”
He sighed and leaned back to look at me. “I don’t write for my fans. I write for me.” He rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip, swollen from his kisses. “What would you say if Miranda Lockhart retired?”
Every nerve in my body went rigid as I tried not to panic. A world without Miranda Lockhart wasn’t one I wanted to live in.
“Don’t joke about that.” I stiffened in his arms and pulled away. “It’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking. What do you think Sally and I were talking about last night? It’s why I wanted to meet with her. I planned the event in Mossy Oak to get her down here on my turf.”
“No.” I felt dizzy just thinking about it. “You can’t.”
“I can.” He pulled me back into his arms. “Sally’s gotten too full of herself. She thinks she’s Miranda Lockhart, for Christ’s sake.”
I felt a sly satisfaction that Sally was getting the boot, but it wasn’t enough to make it okay for Miranda to retire. I couldn’t imagine never reading another Miranda Lockhart novel again. A thought took hold in my mind. Beckett’s latest novel was dark and gritty. While it had elements of romance, it belonged in the thriller aisle.
“What name are you going to use for your new novel?” I asked.
“Definitely not Miranda. Maybe Perry can be salvaged. My last couple of books were duds. Only die-hard fans stuck with me. Then, I saw you on that ladder…”
“Wait!” I shoved Beckett in the chest. His big body didn’t budge, so I did it again. He moved about an inch, and my hand hurt. “You don’t mean Perry Griffin?”
A pink blush spread over his cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry aboutWoven Uprising. I know it was a disappointment.”
“Oh. My. God. Beckett!” I slapped his chest, hurting my hand again. “You’re Perry Griffin?! I always thought he was an older man who looks like Santa.” Perry Griffin was notorious for being a recluse who took forever between novels.
Beckett blushed from his neck to his toes. “Those are photos of the mailroom manager at my publishing house,” he said.
“How the hell do you do it?” I demanded. “How do you have time to fly all over the world fixing companiesandpublish best-selling novels?”
He yawned. “I don’t sleep.”
I rolled on top of him and covered his face with sloppy kisses. “Youarea genius!”
His big hands encircled my waist. I felt his cock stiffen against my thigh and my kisses grew more urgent. “I love your work so much. I would read anything you wrote,” I told him. “Even your stupid limericks.”
“My limericks are not stupid.” His arm snaked around my waist, and he rolled over so he was on top of me. He braced his elbows on either side of me and looked into my eyes, suddenly serious. “This new book terrifies me,” he said.
“It’s dark,” I agreed, looking into his naked eyes. His glasses were on my nightstand, and although I knew he couldn’t see much, I loved looking into his mossy eyes with no barrier between us. “But it’s so beautiful. It’s your masterpiece.”
His eyes sparked. “Because of you. I was burned out until I saw you…”
“I know, standing on the ladder in my good-butt jeans.”
A smile ghosted Beckett’s lips. “Thank God for good-butt jeans.” He tucked a curl behind my ear. “This book is my entire soul spilled out on paper. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
I went still as I processed his words. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to put my secrets out there for anyone to devour. I never considered how brave he was, and it made my heart ache for him. I shifted and kissed him with a tenderness I hadn’t known I possessed, hoping to show him how deeply he’d moved me with his stories.
“Your soul is perfect.” Tears clogged my throat making it difficult to speak.
He leaned down to bury his face in my neck. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he said into my hair.
“If you don’t, you’ll regret it,” I said. “You can’t let fear control you.”
My words echoed in my head. I should be taking that advice, not giving it. My first reaction to seeing Beckett and Sally was to run. And when Beckett told me he loved me, I’d hidden behind my walls instead of admitting that maybe, just maybe, I loved him a little bit too.
“I’m scared too,” I said.
He eased back and met my eyes. “Why?” he asked, brushing my hair away from his face.
