Read More Than Words: A Novella Online
Authors: Lilly Avalon
A minute later, Landon whispers in my ear, “I need to take care of the condom.”
“Of course,” I say, lifting myself up. As he heads to the bathroom, I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them. My mind has barely begun to process what just transpired, but it's slowly sinking in—seeping into my coherent thoughts and enlightening me. I just had sex with my writing partner. Not only that, but I want to do it again. And again. Research or no research. Boundaries be damned.
When Landon returns to my room, he lowers his brows. “Is everything okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, everything's okay.”
I stare straight ahead at my fully lined bookshelf as he comes over and climbs into the bed. He sits next to me, pulling his knees up like mine. He's quiet for a moment, and then he asks, “Do you regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“What we just did.” I can feel him looking at me.
I meet his gaze and shake my head. “No, not at all.”
“Then, what's wrong?” He shifts so he's facing me more.
“I never knew sex could be like that.” My fingers splay over my chest, a fluttering right underneath them threatening to burst forth.
“Like what?”
“So...” I hold out my hand as if to grasp for the right word. “So sensational and spectacular.”
It finally hits him what I'm getting at. “Wait a second, Darling.” He takes hold of my hand and looks me in the eye. “Are you telling me...?”
“Yeah...that was my first...orgasm.” I whisper the last word. I've never told anyone that before, not even Ivy. I never thought having an orgasm was that big of a deal. At least, not until now. I get what the hype is. Oh boy, do I get it.
He frowns and sighs. “It's not right.”
“What's not right?”
“That you've spent all these years not enjoying sex the way you could have been.”
“I just always assumed there was something wrong with me.”
He squeezes my hand. “There was never something wrong with you—only those other men. You deserved better. Hell, the fact that they couldn't even bring you to orgasm from missionary pisses me off.”
“Why?”
“Because missionary works...it...” His face tightens, nostrils flaring. “It makes me want to...”
“What? It makes you want to what?”
He leans over, his face right in front of mine. “Show you,” he growls. “I want to show you.”
Landon wants to...
again?
My heart leaps at the thought of it, despite my doubts about the position. “Maybe you should.”
“Are you sure?” The conflict in his eyes is apparent. He probably worries that he's crossing a line. Once is one thing, twice is another. Twice is a completely different ball game.
“Well, I haven't heard the bell ring, so class isn't over yet,” I tease with a smile, stretching out my legs.
He smirks. “I did change the lesson plan, didn't I?” He takes hold of me, laying me out across the bed on my back. He slips between my legs and I feel his erection pressing against my thigh.
I look up at him with wide eyes. “Wow, already?”
“Like I said,” he murmurs, trailing a fingertip across my lips. “It's a natural reaction to you.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks and at my core. “Do you have any more condoms in that pocket of yours?”
“I have one more.”
“Just one?”
“You're lucky I brought two. I didn't even expect to use the one.”
“Well, thankfully I have a couple in my purse.” I give him a wink.
He raises an eyebrow. “Just how many times are you going to take me, Darling?”
I pretend to think it over. “I haven't quite decided yet...but as many as I can, Sinclair.” My hand cups his face, bringing him closer for a kiss. He complies with a soft moan. Within seconds, I'm hopelessly lost in his kiss. “I never knew research could be so much fun.”
He caresses my breast. “I have to say, this research is more enjoyable than it was earlier.”
“Why's that?”
“It doesn't give me blue balls.”
“Oh God, I'm sorry.”
“You don't need to be anymore.” He kisses down the column of my throat to my breasts. Then he keeps spreading kisses lower...and lower...until he's
there
.
I jerk back, but he grabs my legs, holding me in place. “What are you doing?” I ask with a breathy gasp.
He stares up at me, unblinking. “You think you're going to be able to write your story without at least one scene where Michael tastes Melodie?”
I twitch, but he keeps his grip firm. “This isn't even part of the lesson,” I argue.
He narrows his eyes. “How do you know? All my notes are up here,” he says pointing to his forehead. “Unless, of course, you're trying to read my mind. In which case, stop.”
“But—”
“I know. Nobody has gone down on you before.”
I flinch. “How did you—”
“If they had, tonight would
not
have been the first time you came. Besides, you need to have at least
one
scene including this. I might as well, right?”
“You don't have to do that. Not if you don't want to.”
“You don't think I want to?”
“I get that this is supposed to be research, but you shouldn't feel obligated to—”
“Obligated?” He chokes on a laugh. “Sweetheart, trust me when I say this is something I want to do for you. It's not just because it's research.”
Not just research? Before I can continue my protest, his face descends between my legs. His tongue slides up my folds, my initial gasp turning into a moan. He lifts his head for a second and says, “You taste divine.” He crooks his finger inside and my fingers grasp at the bedding, gripping it tightly to have something to hold onto. His lips zero in on my clit, sucking deeply. My back arches as I soar through a pleasure that jolts me like an electric shock. It releases, and my body shudders through it, trembling as I moan loudly.
I finally look down at him and find him grinning wickedly. “What?” I ask him breathlessly.
“Hearing you come is the most beautiful sound.”
“You might be able to hear it again in a few minutes if you put on that condom.” He lets out a growl and gets up to grab his pants. I grin up at him. “I never had a teacher so excited to help me learn.”
He slides the condom down his length and climbs on the bed. “It's not my fault I'm into the subject.” He spreads my legs and settles between them. “We're going to do a variation on missionary.”
“What kind?”
He lifts one of my legs, hooking it over his shoulder. “This kind.” He sinks into me gently, filling me to the hilt. The angle couldn't be more perfect. This is better than just missionary. It's like “please God let's do this forever” position.
I breathe, “Oh God, that's nice.” My back is already arching.
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” He rocks into me and the friction is beautiful.
“I'm still leaving the pace up to you.”
I raise an eyebrow and touch his lips with my finger. “What if it was up to you?”
“Do you want to know?”
“I want to see.”
A growl escapes his lips, and his grip on me tightens slightly for a second, but he never falters moving inside me. “Don't tempt me.”
“Oh, please,” I scoff. “We've come this far tonight. School me, teach.”
“Are you sure?” His gaze holds mine, studying me as if he could find the truth in my eyes.
I nod. “Do your worst.”
“In that case...” He pulls out of me and turns me until I'm sitting at the edge of the bed. He stands in front of me and enters me again. I gasp. “Wrap your legs around me and hold on.” I reach back to grasp the mattress behind me as he begins to pump into me, steadily increasing in speed.
Holy whoa. I just let the lion loose. Or should I say tiger? His strong hands are on my hips, holding on as he thrusts into me, deeper and deeper. I give way to the pleasure building at my core. I stare up into his eyes, seeing something new in them that wasn't there before. I can't put my finger on it, can't find the words. But I know it's something beautiful. Something wonderful.
In a matter of seconds, I'm exploding from within. I pulse around him, holding on for dear life as I come back down from my high. I look back up at him, and as soon as our eyes meet, he thrusts into me one last time. Burying himself deep inside me, he releases with a moan, my name a whisper on his lips. The only thing I can think as I watch him is that nothing compares to this moment.
Nothing compares to
him
.
After Landon catches his breath, he says, “Are you up for more research?”
I shouldn't be, but I am. “Might as well. Semester isn't over yet, is it?”
“Not if you don't want it to be.”
I know that we've already gone far enough, further than our friendship should ever allow. Yet I want to push the limits, push the boundaries, grasp for more. More would be too much, but I'm reaching for it—begging for it—with open arms. I'm afraid of what will happen to us later. What would happen at the end of this night. What would be lost. Yet somehow, I know it's too late.
My heart is already lost.
It goes on and on, all night. One new sensation after another. Never-ending kisses on every inch of skin. Landon teases me, explores me, and brings me to the edge repeatedly. He luxuriates my body with delicate touches I’ll never forget. We finally fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night, tangled in each other.
When I wake up in the morning, he's gone.
There's no trace of him. My hand feels the side of the bed he was on. With my other hand, I rub my eyes, hoping that when I open them he will be there. When he doesn't appear where he's supposed to be, I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. I'd wonder if it was all a dream, but I know it wasn't. The evidence is in the ache in my legs and the faint feel of where his lips touched mine.
I slip out of bed and into some clothes. My mind is swirling with everything that occurred last night. I slink into the kitchen and make myself peanut butter on toast. I sit on the counter, chewing slowly as I replay every touch with my eyes closed.
It was real. It happened. I can still feel Landon's skin against mine, igniting me to my bones. For the last eight months, I never imagined Landon could be so passionate. Maybe it's because he's always been such a goofball. I guess that's why they say you should never judge a book by its cover.
Everything I'm feeling unravels like ribbon from a spool when I realize he left without saying goodbye. He let me use him. By the same token, I let him use me. I didn't want the night to end, but it inevitably did. The research was finished and that meant Landon was, too. Everything goes back to where it was.
But I don't want to go back to where it was.
~*~
He doesn't call me all week. I hole myself up in my bedroom and write like I never have before. I take the experience—every moment we shared from that night—and pour my heart and soul out in my story. The words are unfragmented and uncensored. What was felt couldn't be ignored, not for me.
Yet, it was for him.
Ivy comes over on Thursday morning to unearth me from my cave. “You haven't been out of these rooms since I took you out on Friday, have you?”
I'm curled up on my couch with my laptop on my lap. “No. Been busy.”
“Have you even changed clothes?”
I glance down at the pajamas I've been wearing for the last five days. “Um...of course I changed clothes?” Once, I think.
Her hand comes to her hips. “Did you just answer in the form of a question? You're a terrible liar.”
“I wasn't trying to be truthful.”
“I get that you need to finish writing this book, I do. But for the love of all that is holy, you need to step outside before the walls start closing in on you.”
“I will.”
Her eyes narrow. “Something happened.”
I swallow. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” I furiously type, my fingers slamming into the keys.
“Oh no you don't.” She yanks my hands up. “What's wrong?”
I rub my temples. “Remember your idea to find a guy to practice sex positions with?”
“Yes.”
“Remember my writer friend Landon?”
“Yes.”
“Remember when I said the only position I've ever tried is missionary?”
“Yes.”
“It isn't anymore.”
She finally catches my meaning, and grips my arm. “No. Way.”
“Yes. Way.” I set my fingers back on the keys but she pulls them away again.
“You are
not
going to stop there.”
I groan, leaning my head back against the couch cushion. “What else is there to say?”
“Um...only
all of it
.” She folds her arms across her chest. “What the hell, Dana? You can't
not
tell me about this.”
“Tell my best friend about how I've inadvertently fallen for a guy who only wanted me for one night?” I turn to her, my eyes filling with tears.
“Oh, sweetie.” She wraps her arms around me as I quietly cry on her shoulder and tell her everything that happened. It feels good to let it all out, finally tell someone other than the document on my computer.
After I finish, she lets out a sigh. “You know...I'm not a mind reader or anything, but I'm pretty sure Landon cares about you as much as you do about him.”
I wish that could be the truth. “But he left.”
“He was probably afraid to stay. Afraid that you were the one who considered all of that only research. But let me tell you something, hon. That wasn't research. That's full-on, pure 'wanted it all along' disguised as research.”
I laugh, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. “Is that right?”
She nods resolutely. “Definitely. He has it bad for you. You just need to let him know you feel it, too.”
Is it that simple? Tell him how I feel, then hope and wish and pray he's willing to admit the same? I think back on moments Landon and I shared. There were many occasions it almost felt like something was there, but I overlooked it. Ignored it. That night it couldn't be ignored any longer. It was there. It
is
there.
I can't help but wonder if I've been wrong all my life about passion and love. If Landon can give so much to me, what am I doing wasting my time with anyone else? There's only one question. Does Landon feel the same way? Maybe he’s attracted and aroused by me, but that doesn’t mean he wants more. If he doesn't, would I be okay with that? It's not as though we're best friends. Our friendship is built on writing, it centers on writing.
Is it enough, though?
~*~
When I turn in my manuscript the next morning, Jamie hugs me.
Hugs
me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Her words come out in a rush, like a sigh of relief.
I let out a giggle. “You haven't even read it yet. It could be complete crap.”
She releases me. “From you?” She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Not possible. I know you well enough that you went through a lot of blood, sweat, and tears writing this.” She shakes the manuscript in her hand.
I look at it, thinking of the last two weeks and how almost completely literal her words are. “You don't know the half of it.”
Later that afternoon, Jamie calls me. I'm back at home and snuggled under a blanket in my living room, contemplating my next clean romance. “Dana Darling, you are phenomenal.”
“I know. Wait, why this time?”
“
Call Me Back
. I just finished it.”
I sit up straight. “Already? I gave it to you a few hours ago.”
“And I couldn't stop reading it.”
“Really?” I try to bite back my smile, but I can't contain it.
“Yes! The emotion and the passion. It's as if you're actually there, like it’s happening to you. It certainly felt like it was happening to me. Oh my goodness.”
I laugh. I can almost picture her fanning herself. “Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it.”
“That's not the only reason why I called, though. We're still in need of a new Juliet Oliver.”
“I know. Have you been able to find someone who fits the bill?”
“Indeed we have.” She pauses for a few seconds, then says, “You.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“You. We want you. Well,
I
want you, but I'm sure everyone else will be in full approval once I share your manuscript with them.”
Me? Become the next Juliet Oliver? “But, I can't just give up on the rest of my—”
“You can still write as Dana Darling. But we also want you as Juliet Oliver.”
“Um...wow.” It's surreal, and a hell of a lot to take in at once. “Can I think about it?”
“Take all the time you need. But don't take too long. We want to get started on the next Juliet Oliver title soon.”
When I sent Jamie my first manuscript, I had no idea that my cheeky query letter would amuse her enough to sign me. I've published five books so far with them. If someone had told me back then that I would not only write a Juliet Oliver book, but also possibly become the next Juliet Oliver, I wouldn't have believed them.
And I certainly wouldn't believe it if they told me I was considering it now.