Page 30 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
My heart raced with each of his muted groans. When he moved his face in front of mine, the way he had that night on my porch, my heart pounded wildly in my ribcage. I was begging for his lips on mine. He lifted me up in his arms, pressing me hard against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt how rock hard he was, grinding into me. Looping his arms under mine, he wrapped his hands around my shoulders and tugged my body down into him, letting out a guttural groan. I cradled his head in my arms and squeezed my thighs around his waist, wanting more.
That’s when I woke up in a full-body sweat and scribbled the scene into the notebook on my nightstand.
How am I going to look him in the face all day and not think about that dream? I’ve seen him naked. I’ve seen how he moves his body during hot-as-fuck sex. Okay, fake sex on a movie set, but you’d never know by watching. I have to get a grip on myself. He’s just a man. An ordinary man. An intriguing ordinary man. An attractive, intriguing ordinary man. Shit, he’s no ordinary man.
I get out of bed, both excited and nervous about the day ahead. I power through my workout and head home. After a quick breakfast and a shower, I put on jean shorts and my favorite and softest light blue T-shirt. Then I get to work on my manuscript. I’ve got a bunch of good scenes written, but it’s all haphazard and I need to create some structure so I know where I’m heading with it.
I start with a high-level timeline outline. It has some holes, but I can fill them in. Next, I create my character bible. With Nicco as my muse for my hero, the words flow rapidly onto the page. Though I have a heroine and I’ve written some scenes with her, I have yet to delve into who she is.
This is when the flow of words comes to a screeching halt. I look up at the ceiling. I look around the room. The words aren’t in those places. Who are you, heroine? Where do you come from? What has your life been like until this point? What are you struggling with? What are your faults that you don’t want anyone to know about?
The ocean calls me. Wanting to hear the lull of the waves, I get up and step out onto my back porch to listen to their song. Inhaling deeply, I let the salt air clear my head. Before I can move forward, I need to dig inside my heroine, get into her soul. Climbing into the pillows on my large porch swing, I close my eyes, trying to picture her face. I have to know what she looks like before I can know her heart.
“It’s beautiful out here.” His deep, raspy voice sends a rush of blood shooting through me and my eyes spring open.
I gasp. “Hi.”
“Hello. I’m a little early. I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer. The view was too enticing not to come back here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, no, not at all. I’m sorry. I must’ve lost track of time.” I get up from my swing, still clutching a puffy, seafoam green pillow.
“I can see why. This is some view you have.” He gazes out to the ocean.
“It’s the perfect place for me. And it inspires my writing, usually.”
“Do you need more time? I don’t want to interrupt you if you’re working on something.”
“No. I’m ready. I just didn’t realize the time.” I put the pillow on the swing. “Come in. I just need to put on my shoes.” I open the screen door and he follows me in.
I walk over to the weathered, light gray shoe bench in my foyer and put on my socks and sneakers, not daring to look up at him standing in my house.
“It’s nice in here. Cute. Very beachy and comfortable.”
When I finish tying my shoes, I grab the small purse I prepared for today with only the essentials. “Thank you. Okay, I’m ready. How about I drive since I know where I’m going?”
“That works.” He gestures his hand toward the door.
I grab two water bottles, handing one to him as we head toward the front door. “For our hike.”
“Thank you. I didn’t think to bring one.”
My phone rings. “Karen” lights up on the screen. “I’m sorry. I need to take this.”
“Of course.”
I swipe the screen, putting the phone to my ear. “Karen, hi.” I pause, listening. “She is? Today?” I pause again. “Now? Yes, it’s taken care of. He’ll be there. Okay, yes, I’ll be right over.” I hang up the phone.
“Do you need to reschedule us?” he asks.
“No, but do you mind if we make a quick stop first?”
“I don’t mind at all.”
As I drive toward the hospital, I point out places that may interest him. Thankfully the hospital’s not far.
“Should I stay here?”
“No, come with me.”
