More Than Words: A Novella (2 page)

Chapter Two

Maybe this was a better idea on paper. Okay, it might have been thrown out before it made it to the editor. The look on Landon's face nearly says it all, and it makes me second-guess my brain after a few vodka cranberries. The time it takes for him to respond to what I just told him cements my thoughts on this being a mistake.

“So,” he says finally, drawing out the word comically. “You're going to write a bodice ripper.”

I reach out and cover his mouth. “Don't be so loud.” I glance around quickly. I don't need anyone eavesdropping on this conversation. “And it's not a bodice ripper.” It's more like a panty ripper.

He rolls his eyes as he peels my hand away. “Nobody can hear us, and who cares if they can.” His face suddenly brightens with realization. “Ooh! Does that mean the cover will have one of those ripped guys? You know all buff and tan?”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Um, hello? It's a Juliet Oliver book. Of course it will.”

“Ooh! Could I be on the cover?” He stands up and poses with a hand on his hips and his chest out.

I burst out laughing and grab at his arm to tug him back down to his seat. “They choose stock photos for the covers. Sorry.”

He gives me a fake frown. “Fine. Dash my hopes to pieces. I see how it is.” He raises an eyebrow, adding a playful smile.

Landon is the iconic boy next door. The one that you rode your bike around the neighborhood with. Stopping periodically for the ice cream truck and scrounging up all the change in your pockets to split a Popsicle. While he's a kid at heart, he's also a genuine and serious person.

He takes a swig of his beer, then sets it down, leaning in to me. His topaz eyes peer into mine. “So, you're asking me to be your pretend sex partner with clothes on.”

My heart skips a beat at his words and nearness. “I wouldn't describe it like that.”

“That's how I'm going to describe it.” He smirks. “Why me?”

“You were the one who said you owed me, so...” I shrug and give him doe eyes.

“You don't have a boyfriend who can assist you?”

I laugh. “I'm flattered that you think I have a boyfriend.”

He scratches his forehead. “I thought you did. Evan?”

“That guy is
long
gone.”

“Oh.” He relaxes and it almost seems like he's relieved to hear this. “Okay then. So you have a week to finish writing this.”

“Yes.”

“And you want to practice moves to inspire scenes for the story.”

“Yes.”

“You can't go by past experience?”

I don't want to get into my lack of position experience, so I just say, “It's not fresh enough in my mind to put to paper.”

He runs his fingers through his dirty-blond hair, eyes curiously locked with mine. “What do you think, that I'm some sexual dynamo who can teach you from some sort of surface lesson? Sex Positions 101?”

“Well, yeah. You're more advanced than me.”

“I'm intermediate.”

“Please, you're an expert compared to me.”

“You don't even know that...yet.” I push him and he laughs. “Why are you doing this anyway?” he asks.

“It's the pay.”

“It's also the challenge. Admit it.”

“Fine. It was partly the challenge. I'm trying to broaden my horizons.”

“Going from sexless books to sex
full
books?”

“You're annoying.”

“I try.”

“It
is
a challenge, though. That's why I need your help.”

He frowns. “Seriously, though. Couldn't you just do research online?”

Landon's hesitation surprises me. He exudes confidence more than anyone else I've met. It should intimidate me—I mean, it intimidates everyone else—but he's so down to earth that it's easy to be around him. Natural, like we've known each other for longer than mere months. He should know that I've already pored over article upon article online.

I shake my head and stand up. “Look. Are you willing to do this or not? Because if not, I need to find someone else and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interrupts, strong hands taking hold of my shoulders to push me back down in my seat. “No need to involve some strange man in this bizarre equation. I'll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yes. You manipulator.”

“I am no such thing.” I try to hide my grin behind my hand, but he sees it and shakes his head. “Thank goodness you agreed to it. I didn't want to ask a complete stranger.”

“I'm glad. I wouldn't trust them with you.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

It isn't until that move—that barely brushing hint of a touch—that it hits me how much I like Landon.
Like him
like him, I mean. He's always been such a great support in my writing career, keeping me grounded and focused. We get along well, but I always thought of him as just a friend. A really good friend who is suddenly looking quite handsome. Gone is the image of him being that boy on the bike. Hello to the image of him on the cover of a Juliet Oliver novel.

Yep. This is a mistake.

~*~

The following afternoon, I'm flying through my apartment trying to tidy up before Landon comes over. He insisted on getting started as soon as possible. I emailed him a copy of the unfinished draft of
Call Me Back
to give him an idea of what the story is so far. That way he's prepared for the first lesson.

After I hit send on the email, I made a vow to myself right then and there to keep this whole thing professional. Landon and I are critique partners first and friends second. Don't get me wrong, we
are
friends. Good friends. We're just not the normal kind of friends. Ninety percent of our hanging out revolves around our writing. We do talk about other things, but rarely. He's the only person I know, aside from people I communicate with online, that I can have writing discussions with. There's no need to throw a wrench in there by adding sex to the equation and ruining a good thing.

With every minute that ticks away on the clock, I'm second-guessing this whole thing. Not just my position buddy coming over, but also reconsidering the erotica novel, too. I could still back out. Jamie might want to kill me, but that's okay. At least I can provide her with what I've written so far. The next ghostwriter can fill in the sex scenes like Mad Libs.

A knock at the door tells me it's too late. When I open it, Landon is standing there, hands in his pocket. He's wearing a tight sage-green Henley, the top few buttons undone and showing a tease of his chest. A smile appears when he sees me. “Hey there.”

“Come on in.”

He steps inside and looks around. “Nice,” he says. “Although it appears to be cleaner than a writer's domicile should be.”

“I may have cleaned up a little bit.” More like a lot. “Did you read it?”

He nods. “Yeah. I like where you're going with it.”

“Yeah?”

He appears thoughtful for a second. “The story itself is paced very well. The only thing it's lacking in is the sex and dirty talk.”

“Dirty talk?”

He laughs, leaning against the wall. “Isn't that the point of an erotica?”

“I suppose...” I scrunch up my nose a little. “Maybe I need more pointers than just positions.”

His face brightens at that. “I'm glad you brought that up.” He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss on top. “Welcome to The Art of Seduction.”

His topaz eyes melt me. “I thought this was Sex Positions 101,” I say quietly.

He strokes my hand with his thumb. “I changed my mind. There's more to sex than the positions. Most of sex is the foreplay—the words and caresses and everything leading to the finale.”

A tingling sensation builds up from where he's touching me and starts to spread through the rest of my body. “That seems a little more...intimate.”

“It's supposed to be.”

“No, I mean this isn't actual seduction. It's just practice.”

“Of course. I just want to be thorough in my training. What you feel will be what you describe when you write.” He tilts his head. “You can trust me. You know that, right?”

I
do
know that. I have no doubts when it comes to Landon. What I doubt at this moment is myself. I believe, however, that I can push aside the lingering feelings blooming from his touch. We have tonight, and that's enough. “Of course,” I tell him.

“Then let's get started.”

Chapter Three

I thought I had prepared myself for this moment, but now that it's here, the nerves are kicking in. He narrows his eyes at me. “You okay?”

“Yes. No. Maybe?”

“That has to be high up there on the 'didn't answer my question' list.”

His humor lightens my mood and I chuckle. “How can you be so cool about this?”

He shrugs. “I don't know. I just am.”

“Are you sure this isn't too weird for you?”

He shakes his head. “No, it's cool. I don't mind being used.”

“You feel used?”

He laughs. “I just said I don't mind.”

“But you said that I'm using you.” I scratch my forehead. “Maybe we shouldn't.”

“Hey.” He leans closer, taking my hand in his again. “Don't you dare back out now. I came here for sex position practice. How many times can a guy get to do, or say, that?”

“Probably not that often. At least not the kind with clothes on.”

“Even without, it's not as often as you think.”

“Really? But you're such a cutie.” I pinch his cheek with a grin.

He rubs his cheek. “Stop being adorable and let's get down to business.”

I hope he doesn't see me blushing at the word 'adorable.' “Fine. Um. Okay. So...” I bite my lip, unsure of where to start.

He notices my hesitation and steps forward. “Let's start with the basics.” He turns me around and walks me to my bedroom. “I'm good at the basics.”

I chuckle. “What about the harder stuff?”

“I have the harder stuff.”

I poke him with my elbow. “Precocious little scamp.”

“I think you mean bastard.”

“No, scamp. Come on, be serious.”

“I am. Will you want to take notes?”

“I should be able to remember, but I'll let you know if I need to pause to write something down.”

“Okay.” He turns me around, hands on my shoulders. “Lesson number one in the bedroom: Be confident. Having confidence in yourself is the greatest turn-on, and the greatest motivator. A woman needs to be as confident as a man in the bedroom, daring even.”

“I'm not all that daring.”

“You take a lot of risks in your writing and they pay off. That's daring. Just transfer that confidence here.” His hands slowly trail down my arms and hold on to my hands. “Show me. Show me the tigress you are on the inside.”

His words are an assurance that I'm capable of a lot more than I think I am. I smile. “Okay then. You asked for it.”

“That's the spirit,” he says, touching a finger to my chin. He sits down on my bed. “On to the positions then.”

“Which one first?”

“Missionary.”

Of course that's the first position. I flare my nostrils and look away. “I already know missionary.”

My bitterness must be evident in my tone. “Okay, we'll skip that one. Have you been on top?” When I shake my head, he frowns. “Dana?”

“Yeah?”

“Is missionary the only one you know?” I chew at my lip and nod slowly. He lets out a long sigh. “When you said last night about it not being fresh in your mind, it got me thinking. If the memories of your previous experiences don’t spark the feelings attached to them, your lovers must not have been good ones. It's a shame, really.”

“Why?”

“Because...” He reaches out, hooking his fingers into my belt loops to pull me closer. I stand between his legs, him still holding on. “Sex is supposed to be enjoyable for both parties involved. If a man isn't making sure his woman is having a good time, well, he isn't much of a man. Those men ought to be ashamed of themselves for not giving you everything.”

Nobody's ever been that concerned with my well being before, in or out of the bedroom. It makes me wonder how much I've been missing because of all the wrong guys in my life. “Thank you for that,” I tell him.

“You're welcome. Now,” he says, letting go of me to lie down on my bed. He pats his leg. “Climb on.”

I've had plenty of time to get myself ready for this, but now that the moment of truth has arrived, my underlying fears come to the fore. The gears are turning in my brain, full of worry and self-doubt. It's not like I haven't had sex before, so I shouldn't be feeling so shy. Somehow it's happening anyway.

“Hey.” He sits up and takes hold of my hand. “There's no reason to be scared. This is practice, right? Even if you have trouble, I'm not gonna hold it against you. I'm not grading you or anything.”

I stifle a chuckle. “You mean there's not a final exam?”

“Only if you want one,” he says with a wink.

I can't hold back my laughter now. It loosens me up and gives me the kick I need to climb onto the bed. I crawl over him and straddle his legs, my eyes never leaving his. I keep my body above his so that our intimate parts aren't touching. His arms lie flat on the bed, but I can see them twitching with restraint.

As I look down at him, he's nodding in approval. “Okay,” he says, a slight hitch in his voice. “When you're on top, you control most of the moves.” He lifts his hands and gently places them on my hips. The warmth of his palms seeps through my jeans and part of me wishes the fabric wasn't in the way. “The guy can still move a little, but it's mostly on you.”

I nod. It makes sense; I've heard about it enough from television and movies to know that. But, as always, it's one thing to hear it and another to experience it. While I'm not actually experiencing it, I can still see how it works.

“Want me to go over it again, or do you want to move on to the next one?” he asks.

“Nope, I think I've got it.”

“Okay, then we'll move on to the second position.” He sits up under me, holding me up above him at my waist as he crosses his legs. He settles me in his lap. “Wrap your legs around me,” he says, and I do. He takes my arms and places them on his shoulders. One of his hands settles on the small of my back. “In this one, both partners are very close. You have free rein to touch my body.” He touches a finger to his tongue and then his chest, making a sizzling sound.
 

“Bastard,” I mumble.
 

“I knew it!” He raises both hands in the air. “I am the champion.”

“Slow down, wild child. We've barely gotten started. Don't want to be premature.”

“That would be the least of your worries.”

Instead of disregarding his touching invitation, I accept it. My hands have a mind of their own and slide up to his neck, my fingers barely brushing his hair. A strong desire to run my fingers through it passes through my mind, but I ignore it. Landon looks at me curiously, and I expect him to call me out on my wandering touches, but he doesn't. Instead, his hands stroke over my back. I glance into his eyes and smile. “It's nice.”

He smiles back, nodding. “You also don't want to ignore the importance of body language and eye contact during sex. If they're really into each other, it won't be robotic. Oh, and don't use the word slowly too much.”

I laugh. “I know. You've seen my list of overused words.” I let out a long breath. “All right, what's next?”

“You're an eager student.”

“What can I say? I'm here to learn.”

He chuckles and rests his head on my shoulder for a second, then leans back again to look at me. “Okay, on to the next position. Get up.”

His arms fall away from me and I stand beside the bed. He gets up and comes around, bending me forward with his arm around my waist. “Ever heard of doggy style?”

I practically shiver over the way he holds me. My palms rest on the bed. “Who hasn't?”

“Of course.” He taps my leg with one hand. “Spread your legs a little bit.” I take a small step to each side. “That's it.” He releases his hold and places his hands on my hips near my butt. “Now this is where he would start pounding into her.”

I dissolve into laughter. If he hadn't been holding onto me, I would have fallen forward on the bed. “Did you really have to say 'pounding'?”

“Yes. That's generally the descriptor used in those books.”

“Wait.” I stand up and face him, eyes narrowed. “How would you know that?”

He makes a face at me. “Would it really be that strange for a writer to read from every genre at least once?”

“Huh.” I never thought of that, or bothered reading outside my comfort zone before. “I guess not.”

“Well, then.” He touches a finger to his lips. “Shall we move on?”