Alex huffed a laugh. “Morgan and Larry would beg to differ. They might never look at you the same.”
“Morgan and Larry will have to learn to deal, then. Given what you did to me last night, I didn’t have the mental faculties to care who heard.”
“What I’m hearing is I just need to sex you out of this privacy anxiety.” Alex slipped his hand under the covers and caressed my thigh. “I am definitely up for that challenge.” He shifted, whipping the blankets away and positioning himself between my legs, then kissed my inner thigh. “This is a very magical place, you know.” His finger slipped past my underwear. “All warm and soft and cozy.”
I relaxed into the pillow, suddenly caring less about who saw what on Greta’s Facebook post than I should. “Please don’t tell me you’re comparing my vagina to a sock.”
Alex’s finger deepened its magic. “There is a lot of slipping going on…”
I giggled. Then gasped. Then lost all sense of time as my body gave itself to his.
Alex collapsed beside me, grinning like an idiot. “I like waking up to that. We should definitely make that part of our morning routine.”
I propped myself up on an elbow and returned the smile. “I concur. One hundred percent. Lots and lots of sex has to be one of our cute couple things.”
He frowned. “Cute couple things?”
For half a second, I was afraid I’d jumped ahead in the relationship timeline by naming us a couple, but I squashed that worry flat. Fearless Evie didn’t fret over stuff she couldn’t control. “Yeah. You know. Couples have things. Some people make up funny words. Others buy each other stupid gifts or have silly nicknames…”
“And you want sex to be our thing?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”
“I am so down for being that couple who has lots of sex.” Alex stared into the distance, as if appraising the idea. “Feels original, you know?”
I giggled, content. Being with him seemed so natural in a way being with Drew never did. I’d never hung out naked in bed, making jokes after sex. I was more used to a quick cleanup, a peck on the cheek, and then dispersing to different rooms in the apartment.
Alex’s eyes met mine. His jaw dropped. “That’s it…”
“What’s it?” I asked. “Still working that sex angle?”
“No.” He sat up. “No…I think I figured out why my story’s not working. I actually think…” His eyes slipped over my shoulder as he lost himself to thought. “I think I know how to fix it.”
His excitement was contagious, the glee in his expression sending my heart over the edge. Life was rewarding us for the challenges we’d faced and now that we’d found each other, everything was falling into place. His story was coming into focus. I had friends to support me. We had each other…
“What are you still doing in bed with me?” I sat up and shooed him towards the door. “Go. Write. Be the amazing author you are.”
He bent down to kiss me, once, twice, a third time. “Wait till you read this, Evie. I see everything the story’s been missing…” His eyes were wide with wonder and excitement. “You’re never gonna see this coming.”
“I’ll definitely never see it if you never write it. Go on, silly. Get to work. Harness the magic while it’s happening.”
Alex kissed me one last time—long, deep, full of promise—then raced from the room and disappeared into the study.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alex
Why in the world did my eyes feel like sandpaper? Probably because my face was three inches from the computer screen. I sat back, realizing for the first time that I was sitting in the dark, my laptop the only source of light in my office.
I’d written the entire day.
My hands felt like hooks. My back was stiff. My belly rumbled and my eyes burned. Physically, I was miserable but mentally? Emotionally? I was flying high. Between Evie and her magic hooha unleashing the grip writer’s block had on my words, I hadn’t felt so good in a long time.
I stepped out of the office and bellowed, “Eveline McAllister! I require sexing!”
My voice echoed through the house, interrupted by the click of Morgan’s nails as he clomped up the stairs with Larry bouncing along behind. After giving each a bit of love, I headed downstairs. “Evie?”
With my house obviously empty, I checked my phone and found two texts from a few hours ago, one from Evie and another from my agent.
I read Brighton’s first. You’re one month from your deadline and I’m sorry to say there are no more extensions. You’ve used up all the goodwill on this project. Hope you’re writing. Call me. Soon. Or just finish the book already and call me then.
One month.
One month to finish more than half a book. Yesterday I would have said it was impossible. But after today? I might just be able to pull it off.
I clicked over to Evie’s text. I checked in on you, but you seemed totally lost in the story. So happy for you! I fed the animals. Come see me when you surface?
Come see her?
I’d rather see her come. I chuckled as I added a mental rimshot. Sex with her killed three birds with one stone. Not only did we both get to have orgasms—birds one and two—but her body was the cure to my broken brain and looming deadline—bird number three. I stopped in the bathroom to rinse my mouth, then dashed across our yards and knocked on her door. When she didn’t answer, I pushed inside and bellowed, “Eveline McAllister!”
A crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by a sharp curse, then Evie’s head poking around the corner. “What is it with you Prescotts and screaming your arrival?”
I crossed the room in a few short strides, cupped her face, and kissed her deeply. “Did you know you have a magic hooha? Did you know it this entire time and were holding out on me?”
She giggled. “Magic hooha? Who even
