Page 51 of Safe Word

Resigned, I decided to look at this night as another challenge. Tonight, I wasn’t seeing Scarlett. I wasn’t getting into a ring. I had no outlet. Tonight, it would be just me and the ghosts of the past.

Dropping into my reading chair like the old bastard that I was, I pulled the printed part of the manuscript off the side table – seven chapters of Damien and Chloe’s chaos. If I couldn’t fuck or beat my demons out, I could drown them in ink and brandy.

The working title still eluded me, and frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to name something that might end up burnt.

I got halfway through before I hit the scene.

The first time Damien fucked Chloe.

I’d written the bones of it – hated it, because it was too vanilla for my tastes. My head hadn’t been in it, which reminded me why I’d hired an assistant. And that assistant—

I exhaled heavily.

Paula coloured in the muscle, the skin. She shaped the fucking moans and the twisted links of character psychology.

And Jesus, that woman had a filthy mind.

Coming from me – that meant something.

Arousing as hell… until it twisted the entire rhythm of what I’d envisioned. Where I’d meant for hunger, she wrote obsession. Where I’d left control, she poured in surrender.

I blinked up at the silver clock ticking smugly on the wall.

Nine.

If she were anyone else, I would assume she was out with someone – drinking, dancing, maybe letting a stranger trace his name across her spine.

Which was… exhilarating and infuriating in equal measure.

But…

Paula wasn’t like that.

She was too much like me.

And that thought alone dug deeply into my ribs.

I made a bet with myself – if she were home, writing tonight, I’d put down the glass.

Just for tonight.

The devil knew I wasn’t stable enough for two major decisions in one week.

Picking up the phone, I typed:

I don’t remember telling you to add things to Ch 7.

Then I paused, finger hovering mid-air.

Too blunt. Too… me.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. And I asked myself: what would a normal person say?

With a muttered curse, I deleted it, typing again:

Just checking – did we agree on adding anything to Ch 7?

I dropped the phone onto the armrest and returned to the page. Her words blurred slightly through the haze of my madness.