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My eyes widen, and I lean forward, fingers poised over the keys. Is he jealous? Is he put off by the story I’ve told? Or is he just playing with me, trying to see how I’ll react to the possibility of him leaving me hanging? Without thinking, I send another email back.
“I lied. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“What a coincidence. I don’t either.”
I snort, slapping my hand over my mouth to contain the noise as I laugh. “You sounded a little like Max. Jealous of Grace’s boyfriend and pretending he’s not.”
Though I find the affair aspect in Liam’s manuscript to be quite interesting, I know in the pit of my stomach that something like this is bound to alienate readers. Most women don’t want to deal with stories involving affairs, and to boost his sales as best I can, I made sure to note this in the editorial letter.
“And did it make you feel like Grace?” he writes. “Did you get excited by the idea of someone being jealous?”
I can feel a blush creeping up my neck, and I smile reluctantly. I don’t want to admit it, but I can’t help it. “Maybe.”
“And would it make you feel good if Max came bursting into your house the way he did Grace’s? Annoyed with her games, the way she made him jealous, but also turned on knowing she was doing this on purpose. Intentionally getting him riled up.”
“I’d probably let the story play out the same way.”
There’s a moment before he replies. “What way? Say it.”
I can’t help but grow warmer doing as he says. “I’d let Max push me against the wall the way Grace did. And when he slid his fingers up my thigh and down the front of my panties, I’d whimper and beg for him. Plead for him to touch me.”
It’s almost embarrassing how I feel typing this out. Mildly ridiculous, but more than that… aroused. I’ve never done something like this. Online dating was always something my mother and her friends looked down on so that never seemed like an option. Not that this is dating, of course. This is something else entirely.
“Keep going,” is all he says.
I swallow hard. Continuing means crossing this boundary I’ve set up with all my clients. Keeping things professional despite the adult nature of the things that are written in their books. I’ve had people try to hit on me before, but not like this. Not in a way that I don’t want to turn down. So, I continue, taking ten steps over that line, crossing it entirely.
“When Max slid his fingers inside me, I’d gasp and cover my mouth, not wanting to wake my roommate. But secretly, that’s exactly what I’d want. To have him finger me so well that I can’t keep quiet. That I end up begging for more, unfazed by the noise I made. Only focused on his fingers buried in my pussy.”
My heart is pounding, and I run a nervous hand through my hair, brushing it from my face. What if he doesn’t want to play this game anymore? What if I’ve gone too far and he ends up asking for a new editor.
My heart stops.
What if he’s been doing this, leading me on this way so that when I crossed the line, he can take these emails to my boss Kristen? Fuck. Fuck.
But his reply calms me down. There’s no aha moment. No “gotcha!” Nothing like that. Just the kind of filth that matches what I’ve sent him.
“Would you let him lay you back on the couch? Spread your legs, inch your dress up over your hips, and press his fingers past your lips? I think you’d suck on those fingers. Taste how sweet you are.”
Rather than letting him take control of the conversation, I take a deep breath and regain my bearings. “What about you, Liam? I have a feeling you’d happily work your tongue over Grace’s lips. Tease her, press into her warmth. Peck kisses up to her clit before sucking on it, long enough to bring her to the best climax she’s had in months. And after that, I think you’d fuck her.”
“I would. Better than she’s been fucked in a long time,” he says. I can hear the authoritative tone in his words, and I bite my bottom lip, containing the groan just under the surface.
I want to continue, to drop this game we’re playing about what we’d do with his characters, but I know I can’t. The rebellious side of me just wants to let go, to submerge myself in this wholeheartedly. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this. Since I’ve felt this turned on. Just the idea of Liam’s beard between my legs is enough to send chills through me, and really make me consider risking it all.
But I remind myself that I need this job to be as uncomplicated as possible. I need to work on this book with Liam and prove that Kristen didn’t make a mistake by hiring me on as the senior editor. It takes everything I have to dial our conversation back, but I manage to steer clear of the sexual nature and distract him with professional business. I can tell from his messages that he’s a little let down—but that’s how things have to be.
Maybe if things were different and I wasn’t his editor. Perhaps then we could keep up the game. The fact is, I am working with him, and I’d hate myself if I let something as stupid as sex ruin the biggest career opportunity of my lifetime.
“I’ve been meaning to ask for your number,” he says, much calmer than we were thirty minutes ago.
I narrow my eyes. Is this another ploy of his? “Why?”
“I’ve been having to write all these emails through the phone because there’s no WiFi out here, and being the old man that I am, staring at this screen is giving me a headache. Plus, I’m interested in talking to you. Hearing your voice.”
I can’t deny that I’d love to hear his voice. I’ve seen interviews, but nothing compares to actually talking to someone. My other clients have had my number before—but then again, Liam isn’t like my other clients. He’s a lot different than any of the others.
“Alright. Here’s my number. Have a good night.”
