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I’m usually regimented about my writing. I outline the chapters, then execute them just as I would a military operation, but tonight, the words won’t come. Zoey stares at me from the blank page instead. I rarely pleasure myself, but I feel an almost overwhelming urge now. I can’t stop replaying the moment she opened the door, time moving slowly, as I took in her face. She’s captivating. There’s no denying it.
If she wasn’t Mallory and Luke’s daughter… but she is, so I need to obliterate any thoughts that she’s the one—the one who’s going to crack my armor and finally make me feel something real. The woman I will spend the rest of my life with and have a family with.
Afamily? After one look?
Switching off my computer, I walk through my apartment into my study.
Large bookshelves dominate three walls, the fourth covered in framed copies of my novels. That was Luke’s idea. He always told me I should be proud of my work.
I sit in my favorite armchair and attempt to read, but the words blur, the ink changing shape, turning into curves, temptation, and all the things it shouldn’t. This is wrong. I know it’s wrong as I do it, picking up my phone and finding Zoey’s cell phone number. I’ve never had it before. I had no reason to.
Traveling the world for research, book tours, and writing my novels kept me busy. Hectic enough so I don’t have to think about what happened with Mallory—the stain that time won’t erase.
I save Zoey’s number, then open a text. I’ve still got time to stop, but I don’t.
Instead, I type,Let me know if Axel causes any more problems or if you want me to get him to back off.
I don’t expect a reply straightaway—it’s almost midnight—but my phone vibrates almost immediately.
I’m probably overreacting, but Mom’s the only family I have left. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Axel is the ex from hell, but Mom’s acting like it’s no big deal.
I’ve got people who can look into him,I type.I’m happy to do it.
I think Mom would be pissed. She wants to pretend he’s not a problem.
I can’t let anything happen to you, Zoey.
As soon as I sent the message, I realize my mistake. We’re talking about her mom, not her, but that’s all I can think about. This Axel asshole visits their house one day. Mallory’s not in, so he takes out his petty anger on Zoey instead. Bullets pound in my mind. I smell gun smoke and violence. It would be a bad day for anybody who tried to hurt her.
I’d hate if anything happened to Mom,she replies,so that would be greatif you don’t mind looking into him.
She’s done me a favor by pretending I mentioned her mom in my message, not her.
I’ll put some feelers out.
Opening the calendar on my phone, I make a note to call Peter tomorrow. He works as a private detective after serving in the Special Forces and then doing a stint as a cop.
If it comes to it,I type,I’ll put a fright in him. I can’t allow somebody to intimidate Luke’s family.
There it is—an explicit declaration that I’m doing this for Luke, not Zoey. This is a lie I will have to maintain at all costs. Mallory looked ill when she saw me. How much sicker would she feel if I acted on my hunger for her daughter?
My manhood grows hard again, as it’s been doing since I left Zoey. I’ll calm myself down, and then thoughts of her will return, a vivid recollection of her standing at the door, her lips slightly pursed. It was like she was getting ready for a kiss.
Thank you,she replies.Why are you up so late? Are you writing?
No,I could type if she wasn’t Mallory’s daughter. If she wasn’t half my age, literally half my age.
I’m forty. She must be twenty now, or she will be soon. I don’t know her birthday.
No, I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to take out my rock-hard dick and imagine everything I’d do to you, but I know I’d feel so damn guilty after…
I won’t send that, obviously.
Trying to,I reply,but sometimes, the words just won’t flow.
That’s funny. I read in one of your interviews that you didn’t believe in writer’s block.
I laugh. So, she’s done her research. She’s right, but I gave that interview before I saw her.
