me to sit in his lap, facing him. Then, he takes hold of my hands and places them on his shoulders. He’s tired, yet he still has the strength and energy to pick me up and move me around. I wish I had that kind of energy left when I was tired. When I’m tired, I struggle to pick up the remote control to turn the television on.
I start to massage his shoulders, and he groans, laying his head back against the sofa and closing his eyes.
“This pressure okay?” I ask as I knead his muscles with my fingers.
“Perfect.”
I run my fingers up his neck, pull the tie from his hair, and then slide my fingers into the dirty-blond strands, massaging his scalp.
“That feels good,” he groans.
“So, this thing I need to ask you …”
“Uh-huh?”
“Well, my book idea, the one I’ve spent all day plotting out and writing?” I feel a frisson of excitement inside me at the mere thought. “It’s kind of about me and you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, as in a questioning okay? Or okay as in, yes, that’s okay?”
“Okay, as in a questioning okay.”
“Don’t you think it’s crazy that there are variations of meanings for the same word in the English language? I honestly love it though. Words, I mean. I just love words and writing and—”
“Dillon.”
“Oh. Right. So, yeah, the book is like fiction based on fact. I was thinking about us—you know, how we met—and then I thought, Why don’t I write a story about us? Well, not about us. Write the story of how we met. You know, what took me to the island, how we agreed to start hooking up, and my coming here for an extended holiday. But not use our names or any details about you and me, or my mum and Tim, just use the basis of our meeting for the story. I started the first chapter from when I found out that Tim and my mum were having an affair and how I went on my honeymoon, alone. But instead of it being me, my character will have another name—one I haven’t decided on. And so will Tim and Mum, but actually, in the story, she won’t be the heroine’s mum; she’ll be her sister. So, like, changing it up, you know.” I move my hands from his hair, tracing patterns over his cheekbones and jaw, giving his face a little mini massage, like I’ve had in the past when I had a facial. Then, I move my hands down to his chest and start massaging his pectoral muscles.
His eyes are still closed, and he’s quiet. I wonder if he’s fallen asleep.
“West, are you still with me?”
“I’m here.”
“Okay, so of course, you’ll be in the book but not as you. You’ll be the hot guy who my heroine meets on holiday, and I’ll write about her coming to America with him. All of our stuff, but I won’t write the actual intimate things that have happened between us.”
“You mean, the sex we’ve had.”
“Yep.”
“I don’t mind you writing about that.” He pops open an eye and grins.
“I’m sure you don’t. And of course, the characters will have sex, just not exactly like we’ve had.”
“And continue to have.” He closes his eyes but slides his hands up my thighs, his fingers going dangerously close to deterring my thoughts toward actual sex instead of talking to him about writing the fictional sex.
“So, basically, I want to check that it’s okay with you that I loosely use our time together for the basis of my book?”
“What, will my fictional name be in the book?”
“Oh. Huh. Well, I don’t know yet. I haven’t gotten around to choosing names for any of the characters yet.”
“Just putting it out there, but I think King is a great name.”
“King?”
“Of sex.”
“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll take it into consideration.” I move my hands up to his biceps, working the muscles there. “So, does that mean you’re okay with me writing the book?”
“Sure. You’re not using my name, so it’s fine with me. In truth, I wouldn’t care if you did use my real name.” He lifts that big shoulder of his. “It’s my team that would take issue with it. And my father.”
“I get that. And like I said, it’s fiction loosely based on reality.” I move my hands lower to his abs and start rubbing them. “Thanks for being cool about this. Gah! It’s so exciting. Also, I think I have the title for the book, but I