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My cheeks heated again at that.
“And I haven’t been able to focus on what I was writing before we met,” he admitted. “I started something new. It’s been a long time since I’ve worked on a passion project, and it’s fun.”
“Fun?” I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Writing essays has always felt like ripping my own eyelashes out for me. I can’t imagine writing being fun.”
“It’s not the writing, necessarily. It’s the way the characters come to life on the pages, and the way the story tells itself. I never really know what’s going to happen, so I feel like I’m putting a puzzle together with only a vague idea of the final outcome. And then when everything comes together, it’s just… magical.” He paused. “That’s cheesy, I know.”
“It’s not cheesy.” I was still stirring the damn goulash, even though I probably should’ve been leaving it alone at that point. “It’s cool. Which one of your books should I start on?”
He barked out a laugh. “None.”
My eyebrows lifted. “What? Why not?”
“You could hate them.”
The words were surprisingly vulnerable, especially coming from the man who’d always been so confident, and sexy.
“Even if I did, I would never tell you that.”
“Exactly.” He gestured toward me. “Regardless of whether or not you like them, I’m going to feel like you hate them. It’s hard to accept compliments about something like a book, because it’s a bundle of ideas in this world you’ve created, and…”
He trailed off, then resumed. “It’s hard to explain, but basically, even if you read them and enjoy them, at some point you’ll mention one thing you didn’t really like or something you expect to happen. And regardless about how I felt previous to whatever you said, it would change how I felt about the books entirely. It happens all the time, with everyone I meet. But with you, it’d be more significant, because your opinion carries all of the weight.”
All of the weight?
I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered, or to worry about abusing the power of my opinion carrying so much weight.
“Then you’ll have to tell me everything,” I warned. “We’re talking in-depth summaries of everything that’s happened in every book you’ve ever written.”
He chuckled. “Alright, I can manage that.”
“Good.” I finally stopped stirring the goulash, stepping back over to my computer. “We can make it a nightly tradition or something.”
“We’d have to share the bed in human form to do that.”
I shrugged. “Then I guess we’ll have to share the bed in human form.”
His lips curved upward slightly. “What do you say we make a plan?”
A plan?
This man knew me way too well already.
“I’m listening.”
“We’ll list out our week, and schedule times for things like pack dinners, and dates, and whatnot. We could even go as far as to schedule out the basic timeline of each day, if you want.”
“I want.”
His lips curved further. “And we can schedule in an hour a day for snuggling in bed before we fall asleep, sex optional. If you’re interested, we can fool around a bit before or after I tell you about my books. And if not, we’ll just talk.”
Ooh.
He was too damn clever for my good.
“What about what you want?”
“Oh, I’ll always want sex.” He didn’t even freakin’ hesitate.
