Ecstasy

Did she actually think for one minute that he’d break up with her?

Didn’t she know he loved her more than life itself?

“Stop laughing at me!” She pounded his chest with her fists.

He grabbed her hands and held them still, saying, “What I wanted to tell you, you little fool, is that I’m in love with you.

Jolene grew completely still, then said, “Say that again?”

He reached for her face and pulled her down for a hard kiss. “I love you,” he growled as he took her lips again.

Already hard again, he plunged his c**k deep within her, taking immeasurable pleasure in filling her pu**y with his shaft, in shooting his seed deep into her womb, in hearing her cry out his name.

Later, as she lay on his chest, with her head in the crook of his shoulder, she said, “I love you too, Zane,” and he smiled and said, “Thank god,” vowing to go to church again the next day, to give thanks for the woman in his arms.

Candace saved her file, quickly proofread it, and then printed it off for the contest. Sealing the envelope, she went to the post office and mailed it.

Knowing Charlie was waiting for her to come back to his house, she put the contest out of her mind, stuffed her deception and guilt away from her heart, and got in her car to drive straight to heaven.

* * *

The next three weeks were amazing. Candace and Charlie spent nearly all of their time together and had even begun to collaborate on an erotic novel together. Were it not for the black cloud of her dishonesty hanging over her head, she would have felt complete joy.

The problem was, every time she had an opportunity to tell him about her manuscript, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He was so damn good—so sweet and loving and tender—she hated the thought of ever seeing anything but love in his eyes.

Candace was desperately afraid he’d leave her if he found out how she betrayed the promise they’d made to each other. What had happened in their lessons was supposed to forever stay in their lessons, but by writing Jolene and Zane’s tale she had broken that pledge.

As the days dragged by and she didn’t hear a word from the contest judges, she began to irrationally hope that her entry had gotten lost in the mail. Or perhaps if she were lucky, the judges had hated it so much they just threw it away.

If Candace had it all to do over, if it meant preserving Charlie’s love, she never would have written the manuscript.

Every day more of her clothes appeared in his closet. He wanted her to move in with him, but she told him it was too soon for such a big commitment.

A voice in her head said, You would move in with him in a heartbeat if he knew what you had done and said he loved you anyway.

Candace shook the voice off, and tried to stick to her story about needing more time. He was getting harder and harder to put off with each passing day, as they discovered depths of passion and love in each other’s arms that neither had dreamed was even possible.

Her heart sank into her stomach as she saw the thick envelope waiting for her atop her pile of mail by the front door.

Feeling like she was suffocating, she picked up the envelope and sat down on the bottom step of her staircase. Sliding her finger underneath the seal, she slipped the papers out.

Dear Ms. Whitman, the cover letter read, we are pleased to inform you that you are the Grand Prize Winner of the 15th Annual Erotic Writer’s Contest! We hereby request your presence at the awards ceremony July 3rd. We are certain you will be thrilled to receive your medal and $10,000 check from our secret celebrity judge.

The paper fell through Candace’s hands. “Oh my god,” she whispered, “I won!”

She jumped up off of the step and screamed, “I won! I won!” and ran into the kitchen to call Charlie.

She stopped as everything crashed down around her. She couldn't tell him.

Tell him now, her rational inner-voice nagged her.

Unwilling to risk his love, Candace decided not to tell him about winning the award. And now she needed to think of a good excuse for why she was going to be busy on Saturday night.

“Damn it,” she muttered as she went back into her foyer to pick up the contest papers that were strewn all over her hardwood floors and began to compose her newest lie in her head.

Chapter Thirteen

“Baby,” Candace said as she lay in the crook of Charlie’s arm, “I have a family thing this Saturday.”

“Oh good. I’ve been dying to meet your family.”

Inwardly she cursed herself for saying the wrong thing. “Actually,” she said, “it’s a private matter. I promise to tell you everything once things are ironed out, but for now, the lawyers have insisted we keep it within the family.”

Charlie kissed the top of her head. “Sounds serious. Are you sure you don’t want me to come along for moral support?”

“Definitely not!” she exclaimed. Realizing she had been far more fervent with her protests than was necessary, she stroked her hands through the golden hair that dusted his muscular chest. Trying to keep her tone light she said, “Hey, you’ll finally get a day without me. I’ll bet you’ve been dying to hang out with the guys to drink beer and eat pizza and watch sports, huh?”

Charlie chuckled. “Honestly? No. I haven’t been the least bit interested in hanging out with the guys.”

“Really?” she asked in an uncertain voice.

“Are you kidding?” he replied. “Only a madman would choose beer and pizza over you.”

She tilted her head up and kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you, Charlie Gibson.”

* * *

Charlie had planned on asking Candace to the Erotic Writing Contest ceremony, but he kept forgetting. By the time he learned she already had unbreakable plans, he figured there was no point in mentioning it at all.

Backstage, in his dressing room, Charlie clipped on his bowtie and evened up the sleeves of his tux jacket. Looking at himself in the mirror he saw a man in love looking back at him. His eyes were clear and bright, a smile was permanently plastered on his face.

He was planning on asking her to marry him. In fact, he had dropped by Tiffany’s that very afternoon. He couldn’t wait to slip the solitaire on her finger, knowing she’d be in his bed, in his heart, for all eternity.

Steve Holt stuck his head in the door. “Hey Charlie, I thought you might want to check out the winning manuscript before you present the award to the winner.” Steve put the thick bundle of pages on the table nearest the door. “It’s pretty f**kin’ hot. I can’t wait to get a look at the woman who wrote it when she walks up on stage tonight.”