We’re just moving right along with this story now, aren’t we?
If you’re new, welcome! Every Friday I’m releasing a small portion of a romance novel/novella I penned for Harlequinn a few years back. It didn’t end up hitting local Walmart book shelves (do they sell those books anywhere else?), so I’m releasing it, bit by bit, every Friday.
If you’re not into the over the top, quirky, sometimes eye-roll inducing nature of these spicy romance novels no worries, just avoid these Friday Fiction releases (of course, you might like them if you' haven’t given them a try before!).
And if you are new, don’t read this part yet! Start by reading the linked sections below.
Again, thank you for reading what I have to say (even if it’s indulgent nonsense like a romance novel). Have a beautiful weekend.
Greyson
The Forbidden Book Club
Chapter 2, Part II
Inside, the smell of aged leather and dated parchment lingered in the air, the warm temperature pulling out the botanical aroma like a spiced potpourri. It filled Charles' lungs and instantly took him back to his childhood in the Texas panhandle. His dad owned a small leather goods shop and after school, he'd often help with stitching belts and wallets and hats. At least for as long as he remained around his dad. Charles liked working with his hands and a young age and had pricked himself with more needles than he'd ever be able to count. Inside the small bookshop, the leather bound books made him feel right at home.
The shop had a low ceiling and most light came in through the open doorway and a scattering of small windows. Dust, both from the aged books and tracked in from the outside, lingered in the air, catching the soft blades of afternoon light and twinkling like stardust. The shop itself had once been a carriage house, home to horses several lifetimes ago, but like many of the homes in the historic district, had been updated to something suitable to more than just livestock. Oak bookshelves partitioned the slender rectangular space, running from floor to ceiling.
Charles ran his finger over leather binding, but he did not look to the books. He looked to Erika. A perpetual smile drawn on her face, she seemed to have just walked into her own personal heaven. Her eyes wide and full of amazement she appeared to be teetering between excited laughter and tears of happiness.
His heart skipped.
There's something about being allowed to see someone fully wrapped in what makes them truly happy. It's almost intimate. Their emotions exposed. Their inner self stripped down to the purest form. As if mentally undressing in front of the world and saying "this is me." He found it touchingly beautiful. And his entire body felt this beauty. A feeling he couldn't recall ever experiencing before. As if her joy, her happiness, filled his own body with every breath. He dabbed moisture forming at the corner of his eye. Even Erika's tears of happiness had spread to him.
I've only spent a few moments with you and yet I've seen a side of you I've never experienced with my own wife.
He didn't know if he should be excited about the opportunity, or sad that in a way he already felt mentally closer to Erika than his own spouse.
"So what kind of book are you thinking?" Erika asked.
"You know. I'm not sure. That's usually my problem."
"Hmm," Erika bit at her lip as she thought, her eyes returning to the books. "Any particular genre off limits?"
Charles considered. "No. No, I don't think so. You're the expert. I trust your judgment."
Erika smiled.
He could feel her smile in his chest, warming his body like a growing fire.
It's just because you're lonely without Pamela. That's all.
Yet he let his eyes fall over her. Linger on her. The way her hair slid down her back like a silk waterfall before curving off gently to one side. The way index and middle finger traced over leather bindings, yet her bottom fingers remained tucked into her palm. The way her left pant leg was accidentally tucked into her red Converse. The way a small amount of chocolate lingered at the corner of her lips. He took it all in. It was all perfect. Even the perfect imperfections. It was Erika and to him she was perfect.
You're just lonely right now. Just lonely.
Erika walked around the shelf and disappeared.
"I think I've found something."
Charles followed her.
She handed a book to him.
"Eternal Darkness?"
"I've heard it's suppose to be good."
"What's it about?"
"I'm not sure. Think it's a dystopian kind of story."
Charles opened the book, flipping through the pages. "Hey, anything that's about blowing something up and starting over, I'm for."
"A personal fantasy of yours?"
"Isn't it for all of us at times?"
"I suppose you're right. Well, then we should both like it."
"Good," Charles said with a smile.
"Good."
Charles gave Erika an abbreviated walking tour of River Street. He pointed out small shops and buildings they passed and the history he could recall from tours he took years ago after moving to the city. Some of the history sounded accurate, although Erika was pretty sure he made up other parts as he went. But he told the stories with such conviction she went along for the ride. They stopped to take in the performance of a local street musician and eventually turned their attention to the river and watch the passing ships gliding under the beautiful Savannah Bridge. When Erika's stomach finally announced her hunger with a rather impressive rumble, Charles recommended a personal favorite sandwich shop.
He led her back up the twisting staircase, which didn't seem as daunting going up as it did going down. Every few blocks they came onto a new park square. While the branches of Spanish Oaks crosshatched above the center of each, providing a comforting shade from the mid-day sun, Erika marveled at the central attraction in each square. One had a simple yet beautiful emerald green tiered fountain, providing the sound of a comforting rain as they took it in. Charles let a finger trace along the curved lip of a tier and invited Erika to do the same, before playfully flicking water droplets at her. His face glowed like that of a playful child. Erika eyed him as she dunked her own fingers into the fountain. Biting the inside of her lip, desire burning in her eyes, the thoughts running through her head were anything but childish.
"Oh, so it's going to be like that, is it?" she said as she spritzed him with her own water-glazed fingers. He smiled and looked into her eyes. For the faintest of moments Erika could have sworn she saw something else in his eyes. His own hunger. His own longing. But as soon as it came, if it came at all, it faded away. He wiped the droplets of moisture from his face and they continued on.
The line for the sandwich shop was impressive for midday. Passing by the open-air display, Erika saw nothing more than a serving counter and a two-person table pushed into a corner. However, the line to enter the tiny establishment snaked out the front and around the historic stone building it called home.
"There something special going on?" Erika asked.
"Just the food."
She did a quick headcount. There must have been a good fifty people standing in the summer heat, all for a sandwich.
This better be a damn good sandwich.
Thankfully the line moved quickly, with eager customers leaving the small shop, tin-foil wrapped goodies tucked under arms and condensation dripping sodas in hands. The smell of jerked meats and creamy sauces twisted around those remaining. Erika and Charles were close enough to catch a wafting of spices and meats and freshly baked bread. If the aroma offered a glimpse of flavors to come she knew the sandwiches were, in fact, damn good. Erika had to swallow the extra saliva her mouth produced. It didn't just smell good. It smelled amazing.
"Whenever I'm walking around town I'm never sure what to try. There's just so many restaurants, and everything's different. I wouldn't know where to start."
"You sound like me with books. Trick is to go where the tourists aren't. That's why we're not eating down there on River. Instead, you want to head where the locals eat."
"How do I know what's a tourist spot and what's a local spot?"
"Thankfully tourists in Savannah stick out, so it's not as difficult as you might think. Don't worry, you'll get used to it. If you ever find yourself in a crowd of tube socks and white granny visors you'll know you're in the wrong place."
Finally, they made their way into the small shop. Erika had planned on going with something light, to make up for all the buckeyes she gorged on earlier, but the parmesan coated meatball sub with South African spices grabbed hold of her senses and refused to let go. The woman behind the counter nodded her approval with the order before taking down Charles'.
"This city is dangerous," she said, after accepting the tin-foiled sandwich handed to her. "I could pack on the pounds real fast here."
Charles smiled. His dimples made her forget about the caloric punch of the parmesan sub.
"Don't worry. What you don't walk off around here you'll sweat out. Thankfully the humidity is good for something around here."
"Well, if I'm not careful and I keep mowing through parmesan subs and chocolate covered Rice Krispies you'll start to see Crisco coming out of my pores."
Charles' smile turned into a laugh.
Erika forgot to breathe.
The handful of outdoor tables were all occupied, so Charles led her to a shaded square the next block over. The immense Southern oaks provided ample shade, and there were more than enough park benches scattered throughout. They claimed one as their own. Erika could hardly wait to unroll her tin-foil and dive face first into the sandwich. Like unwrapping a gift for her senses, every layer of stripped off tinfoil let more of the melted parmesan and South African spice aroma escape. She inhaled deeply. Her stomach rumbled in return, bellowing out for a taste. Charles watched Erika carefully as she positioned and re-positioned the long sandwich in her hands for optimal eating. She caught him watching her.
"You're making me nervous."
"Why?"
"Watching me. I'm just trying to figure the best way to attack this thing. There's really no good way to eat it."
"You've just gotta throw caution to the wind and sink your teeth into it."
Erika eyed the sandwich one last time, shrugged her shoulders, then took a bite.
"Oh my god," she said, mouth full. She didn't even mean to. All her senses seemed to come together and push out the three-word phrase of satisfaction.
"That good?"
She nodded, eyes wide. "Yes," she talked between chews, "I mean...oh my god."
Charles ate his sandwich with a smile.
The thick sauce dripped from her sandwich back to the tin-foil below. Her fingers were coated. A small amount dribbled from her chin. She looked at the mess forming on the makeshift plate and suddenly realized just how she likely looked.
"I'm sorry," she put her sandwich down wiping her fingers on a napkin.
Why did they only give me one napkin?
"I must look like a complete slob right now."
"Oh no, it means you're enjoying it. Make as much of a mess as you want. Besides, there's nothing more erotic than watching a woman eat a meatball sub"
Erika started to laugh, then covered he mouth with her hand to avoid spraying chunks of sandwich at Charles. She swallowed it down.
"It is, like, really really good. But it's so dense. I'm going to nap pretty hard when I get back home."
Erika looked around for more napkins. Nothing. Charles handed her his.
"Thanks," she said with a bashful smile. She wiped at her face. "Did I get it all?"
Charles motioned on his cheek. "Missed a spot."
Erika tried again.
Charles laughed.
"What?"
Charles waved his hand about his face.
"Just made it worse."
"Really?"
"Much worse."
God, Erika, it's like you've never used a napkin before.
"It's not nice to laugh at someone's misfortune," she joked.
"Here," Charles dabbed his finger into sauce and smeared it on his own cheek. "Now we're even."
Erika blushed. She hoped the sauce on her face took enough attention away from the flushing of her skin. The fact that a man, so well built, so handsome, and so engaging, could be so innocently sweet. It made her want to--
Lick that sauce off his face--
Erika couldn't hold back the laugh caused by her own train of thought.
"What, it that bad?" Charles asked, smile across his face.
"Well we're just one giant mess now, aren't we?" Erika tried to wipe blindly at the sauce on her own face.
Charles reached into a pants pocket and removed a baby blue handkerchief.
"Oh, no. I couldn't. I don't want to stain your handkerchief."
Charles waved off the concern.
"It's what it's there for."
He traded places with the tin-foil plate, moving in closer to Erika. He leaned in, sliding the soft cloth delicately over her cheek. She could feel the heat from his hand radiate into her skin. She wanted to lay her head into the nest of his hand, but instead, she sat motionless, trying her best to breathe. Her breath had drawn short. Her chest rose sharply and fell just as swift, despite her best intentions to keep it together.
Deep, calm breaths, Erika. Deep, calm breaths.
He moved in closer. It seemed the sauce wasn't wiping off. Or he was pretending? She didn't care either way.
"Sorry. It's a little stubborn."
Erika was all out of breath to even try and speak. But she watched as he dabbed the edge of his handkerchief against the condensation running down her bottle of Coke. He leaned back in, closer this time. His other hand shifted to anchor his weight, coming down on her hand. She tensed. All air left her lungs. He could feel it and pulled his free hand back.
Damn it!
"This'll just take a moment," Charles said, his Sinatra southern twang as sweet as apple pie.
She nodded.
His free hand moved back down, touching her leg. He was concentrating, so Erika couldn't tell if he knew he had touched her. She knew. Her breathing quickened. The cold cloth touched her skin. She gasped. Goosebumps flared up her arm. She looked down her nose into his eyes. His was on his work. But his face was close. So close. His hot breath tickled her nose. Her chin. Her lips. She could kiss him. It would be so easy. But she was paralyzed with desire. Numb. She closed her eyes. Hoping he would make the move. She managed a swallow. Numbness gave way to a tingling as the short bursts of oxygen and blood finally reached between her thighs.
He could take me right here if he wanted to. I wouldn't care who saw it.
Erika could feel herself begin to swell. The finger on his free hand twitched, sending pleasure pulses up her legs, which her clit salivated over. Her eyes widened.
Oh my god!
Charles leaned back, satisfied with his work.
"Good as new!" he proclaimed.
Erika looked at him blankly. It took all her mental energy to not pounce right on him. Instead, she reached for her Coke and went to town drinking it down, as if competing with an invisible contestant for who could finish their soda fastest.
Charles leaned back, taking it in.
Once the bottle had been consumed, Erika wiped the cool plastic across her forehead.
…to be continued…