Page 121 of Booked on You
I glance at my word count and gasp. “I wrote three thousand words. I know I keep saying it, but I’m so close.”
“Proud of you.” He settles onto the lounge chair, sipping from his glass. “I’m just going to read. Don’t mind me.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I playfully say.
“I’m just enjoying the sunset with my girlfriend while she does her thing.” He opens a book—my debut novel—and starts reading.
“Girlfriend, huh?” I ask as butterflies flutter through me. I want to hear him say it.
“Fuck yeah. You’re mine, Scarlett. For as long as you’ll have me.”
Warmth spreads through me.
“And what if I decide that’s forever?” I ask, picking up my wine and drinking. It’s light, strawberry, I think.
“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” He smirks, crossing his ankles, looking so damn beautiful while that relaxed.
Our eyes lock, and I drown in his baby blues.
“You say such things like you have nothing to lose,” I whisper.
“Tomorrow is never promised. I won’t live my life regretting things I never said,” he mutters. “Nowshh. I’m reading my favorite author.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I admit.
“And you never will again.” He gives me that lazy grin, then returns to his book. “Stop looking at me like that and go back to writing. One more hour, then we’ll take a break. Okay?”
“Ugh,” I groan, but I love how he put himself as the prize at the end of the finish line.
I force myself to look away before I shut my laptop and say screw it. I dive back into my manuscript, wanting to finish. Everyfew minutes, I hear him turning pages as my fingers fly across the keys.
When Ezra’s alarm sounds, the sky has turned deep purple, and I’ve written another thousand words. My neck aches, and my fingers are cramping, but I only have two more chapters and an epilogue, then I’m finished.
“Done for the day?” Ezra asks, noticing I’ve stopped typing.
“Yeah. I thought I’d be able to finish, but my brain is done. I can’t give anymore.” I close the screen and stretch, feeling relief as my spine pops. “What should we do for dinner?”
“Each other.” He stands and offers me his hand, holding my book in his other hand.
“Really?” I ask with a snicker.
“I thought I’d make us some fish. I have a mean lemon butter sauce recipe.” He pulls me into his arms. “But I do want you for dessert.”
I nod against his chest, breathing in the scent of his soap. “Great. Warning though, I’m an all-you-can-eat meal.”
“Babe, that’s music to my ears.” His hands slide down to rest on my lower back as our eyes meet. “Can’t wait to worship you.”
“Mm. I actually can’t wait for that, too.” My stomach growls.
“See? You need food,” he says, because he heard it.
We move inside, and I settle at the bar top in the kitchen while Ezra pulls ingredients from the fridge. He moves with an easy confidence, chopping garlic and heating a pan with some butter.
He casually pours more wine into my glass while he works at the stovetop.
“Your existence gives me hope for women,” I say with a laugh. “I’ve always been a hopeless romantic at heart, and you’re like one of my characters.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Ezra chuckles. “I’m sorry the men you were with before were pieces of shit. You know the saying ‘there are plenty of fish in the sea’?”
