“I can’t tell if I hear your heart beating, or if it’s mine,” I say against his skin. His fingers glide over my shoulder, then trail down to my elbow.
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
I smile and bury my face in his side, squeezing as hard as my jelly limbs allow. He squeezes back, nudging my chin up to plant sweet kisses on my lips.
“Hey,” I say, interrupting him, so he moves to my jaw. “Where is my froggy?”
His breath cools my overheated skin as he chuckles into my neck. “Oh, well, I uh …”
I deflate next to him and frown. “You threw it in the ocean, didn’t you?”
“What? No.” He turns on his side, letting me use his arm as a pillow. “I sort of kept it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I’ll give it back if you insist.”
“And what were you going to tell Tolani when he saw it in his shower?”
“I’d have my own bathroom.” He reaches down and playfully pinches my hip. “And I wasn’t going to use it.”
“Then why keep it?”
His eyes narrow and he plants a kiss to my nose. “You’re fishing.”
“Yep.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
He groans, rolling back. I press my very naked body against his very naked body and widen my eyes, waiting for his answer.
“That damn look,” he says, pulling me on top of him and grabbing my ass. I temporarily forget what we were talking about. “I kept it because I’m in love with you, and there’s a lot of good stuff that happened in the presence of that creepy thing, and I didn’t want to give it back.” He cocks his head at me and smiles. “Satisfied?”
“Very much so.” I bend down and press my lips to his, opening my mouth and sliding my tongue over his, and I know he’s probably wiped out from what we just did, but I want him again.
Over and over again.
“Shower time now?” he breathes, and I nod, nip at his bottom lip, and don’t stop kissing him as we fumble our way to the bathroom.
We only stop to grab the sponge from his duffel bag.
* * *
The sunlight peeks through the curtains at just the right angle to hit me square in the face. I moan, turn onto my other side, and flop my arm across the very empty bed.
I smell food.
After a good stretch, I slide from the sheets to the soft carpet, tiptoeing to Eric’s dresser … which is empty. Oh right, he packed everything. I cluck my tongue and search the floor for my clothes, but I really want to wear Eric’s shirt, so once I find it stuffed under the pillows, I slip my arms in the sleeves and button it up to just above my boobs. I flip my hair out, just now realizing that Eric probably lost my hair tie in the water last night when he ripped it from my head. I will have to wear my hair up soon just so he can do that to me again.
Eric’s in the kitchen, humming under his breath. My eyes widen as I watch him scramble eggs in the pan.
He’s stark naked.
“I see someone’s overcome their insecurity about their sexy-as-hell body.” I laugh, and Eric smiles over his shoulder, then he does a double take, letting his gaze linger on my chest.
“I had a witty comeback to that, but it flew from my brain,” he says, turning around with the pan of eggs. He dishes out a serving for both of us, gets me water, and kisses my forehead. “And sorry, this was all that was left in the house. I tried to do it omelet style, but it ended up scrambled.”
“Don’t apologize for making me breakfast.” I stab my fork in, not caring how the hell it looks or tastes. I’m famished. “I just hope you didn’t burn anything important while you were working over there.”
He looks down and examines himself, and I can’t stop laughing as he turns around to check out his own ass.
“I think I’m good.”
“You’re definitely that.”
He rolls his eyes at me, then something buzzes from the side table in the living room. I ignore it, but he wraps his arms around my waist, shoving my plate a little to the side.
“You can answer that,” he says, and I open my mouth, but he puts a hand over it. “I don’t mind. I don’t mind that you talk to people, that you read, or that you like to post pictures and laugh at links or leave reviews on the books you love. I just want you to share it with me. Don’t hide anything, otherwise it makes me think there’s something to hide.”
“Eric—”
“I’m sorry for overreacting.”
“You didn’t—”
“It’s just, when I saw that guy on your page … then that email …”
“That’s done, Eric. I told him I wasn’t talking to him anymore. I unfriended him, and he hasn’t emailed, and if he does I’ll delete it.”
He purses his lips and nods, staring at the top button on the shirt I’m wearing. “Can we just … I want to compromise so we’re both happy.”
“I am happy.”
“I know, but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t ever look at your phone. Or read a book. Or answer a text message or get online to do whatever.”
I smile and pull his face down to peck his lips. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He tugs on the end of my hair, grazing my breast with just the slightest touch, setting me on fire. “So go answer your phone.”
“Eric—”
“I’m serious, I don’t mind.” He starts pushing me, and I walk backward into the living room.
“Eric!” I laugh, grasping his forearms. He stops pushing, and I snake my hands around his neck, standing on my toes to get my face close to his. “That’s not my phone.”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“I think that’s your phone. Mine’s in the car.”
“Oh … oh!” He actually smacks his forehead. “Now I feel like a dick.”
“Don’t. I’m glad you said all that.” I pull his hand down, touch his face, his neck, his chest, and smile because he’s here. Physically here, and that’s not going to change. I snuggle into him, listen to his heart in my ear, feel it thunder and race and love how he’s holding me, completely bare, with no secrets and no … clothes.
“I do want to get online today,” I say, and he doesn’t tense. His heart still beats its same beautiful pattern. “Because I’m pretty sure we need to look for apartments.”
“I’ll pull out my computer right now,” he tells me, loosening his hold, but I grip him tighter.
“Not now.”
“After breakfast?”
I shake my head, running my hands down his back. “After dessert.”
Then I tug him to the bedroom.
Epilogue—One Year Later
Emilia Johnson and Eric Matua are engaged
4 hours ago
That’s right ladies! He’s all mine!
63 people like this
* * *
“How many friends of yours are going to keep commenting on this status update?” Eric asks as he flips his phone off after the fiftieth ding today. He slouches onto the couch—our couch—and I automatically cuddle up next to him.
“Well, it is big news.” I let go of my book to wiggle my finger at him. “And I haven’t been online for a few days, so it’s the only status they have to comment on.”
He laughs, then reaches down and kisses the diamond, just like he did earlier this morning when he put it there.
“So, what are you reading with this half-naked man on the cover?” Eric swipes my book from my hands.
“It’s a romance. Give it back! I’m at a really good part.”
I reach for it, but he locks his hand around my wrist and holds me back. The muscles in his arm contract, but he’s not hurting me. He looks adorable with a book in his hands. Especially one with a bare-chested man sprawled across it.
“His hand ran up my thigh, caressing my skin where it was most sensitive.”
“Oh my gosh, stop! Give it back now!” I try tackling him, but that’s totally not going to w
ork on my strong man. He laughs at my feeble attempts and gently pushes me back on the pillow. He winks before he keeps reading.
“I couldn’t help my fingers from tangling in his thick hair. I pulled him toward me, our mouths hot with anticipation of the first taste.”
My face flushes, his eyes flick up from the book, and he lowers it against my legs. “Do you want me to keep going?”
I shake my head. “I know how it ends. I’ve read it before.” Though I’ve never had it read to me. It’s completely erotic, and I don’t want him to read it anymore. I want him to act it out.
“Then why do you read it?”
Kicking the book from his hands, I force his body on top of mine so our lips are just touching. “I like spending time with my book boyfriends.” I laugh as he gasps in an oh-no-you-didn’t way, and he tickles my hip.
“I could be a book boyfriend,” he says, leaning on his elbow. “Watch …” His fingers move up my leg. “I’m running my hand up your thigh. Tell me when I get to the sensitive parts.”
I smack his hand when he tries to pinch my butt, giggling into his neck as he moves his mouth to my ear. His fingers wrap around mine, and he brings them up to his hair, forcing me to give him noogies.
“Is this what it means to tangle your fingers in my hair?” He smiles and keeps rubbing our hands around his head. “Does this turn you on?”
I can’t stop laughing, but even that doesn’t stop me from kissing his cheeks, his lips, his nose, his chin. “It is the biggest turn-on, Eric.”
“See, I could totally be one of your fantasy dudes.”
My laughter subsides, and my smile fades, but I’m not sad. I just want him to know exactly how I’m feeling, and that I’m serious about it.
“No.”
“What? I didn’t do it right?” he jokes, chocolate eyes teasing me.
I slowly drop my hand from his hair, playing with his ear and tickling the back of his neck. “It’s not that. I don’t want you to be a book boyfriend.”
His bottom lip juts out and I bite it, taking him by surprise, and he groans into my neck as his head drops. “Am I not good enough?” he asks, his warm breath heating my skin before he takes my earlobe in between his teeth.
“No. You’re better.” I pull his face so I can look into his eyes. He’s so beautiful. I can’t believe this sexy man chose me, and still chooses me every day. I lightly press his lips to mine, and run my thumbs across his jaw. “You’re the real thing.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you, book addicts, for loving to read, for loving to talk about reading, and for making fantasies reality when you fall in love with stories.
Thank you, Facebook, for distracting me so much you inspired me to write this book.
Thank you, Theresa, for being my go-to person for every word of this story. You know you talked me off many ledges, and you helped me make Eric exactly who I wanted him to be. Thank you for listening to my babbles, my tears over my broken guy, my own anxiety as I tried to push through the rough scenes, and for giving me cyber slaps. I wouldn’t have this book if it wasn’t for you. And I got sappy there just for you, babe. *pacman face*
Thank you, Jolene, Carol, Rachel, Jessica, and Kelley, for reading this story superfast so I could make my deadline. Your notes were beyond helpful, and I guess the book wasn’t all crap, since you liked it. (Yes, you were right, I was wrong, we shall move on now ;))
Thank you, my beta girls, for always being there at the click of a button. You are mostly the reason for my own Internet addiction.
Thank you, Dr. Seuss, for your brilliant books, and for giving me the chance to “research” and spend time with my kids simultaneously.
Thank you, Sue, for your insight, which is always full of genius. Thank you for knowing my vision, loving my voice, supporting my dream, and promoting the crap out of my books. Gah, I seriously just love working with you!
Thank you, Gina, April, Kim, and the rest of the kick-butt team at Random House Flirt. I heart my publisher so much!
Thank you, copyeditor Howard Mittlemark. You are a genius!
Thank you, Awesome Nerds, for being the best street team ever, for promoting my books, posting reviews, for those awesome GIFs that make me goofy-smile, and for fangirling with me over Dylan O’Brien pictures.
Thank you, Brittany, for getting me my amazing publisher, for being quick with emails, and for being my friend.
Thank you, Mommy, Jenny, Becki, and Shellie, for being the most supportive people ever and not blushing too hard when you read the steamy scenes.
Thank you, Mandy, for being my go-to Floridian expert. One day I’ll fly myself there and we can go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, and it’ll be the best day ever.
Thank you, Bubble Guppies, for teaching my children how to be quiet for a half hour so I can write. And thank you, children, for loving the Bubble Guppies enough to sing the theme song everywhere we go.
And last, thank you, Joshy, for inspiring that shower scene. (I will get you back for that ice water.)
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Published in the US in 2014 by Flirt, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
Published in the UK in 2014 by Rouge, an imprint of Ebury Publishing
A Random House Group Company
Copyright © 2014 by Cassie Mae
Cassie Mae has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance w
ith the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner
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Cassie Mae, The Real Thing
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