Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [111]
All she could do was picture Riley and Aunt Mimsey having tea, or visiting the Dorchesters. Or maybe Riley wandering wistfully and lonely through the secret garden. Wow, what a catchy hook for a story: wannabe detective takes walk.
Once upon a time, Monica had been sure Laura’s writer block had been caused by a lack of sex. And the results of her visit to Colorado had seemed to support the claim. God, she hoped that wasn’t true, given that she didn’t seem to want to have sex with anyone other than Braden Stone.
She was just about to wonder, for the first time ever, if maybe all of Riley’s stories had been told, if all of her adventures had already been lived—when an Instant Message popped up on her screen. She flinched when she saw who it was from.
FLYBOY1: Are you there, snowflake?
Her heart threatened to burst through her chest. He suddenly felt so nearby—even if also still far away. RILEY: Yes, I’m here. Hi.
FLYBOY1: How are you?
What a loaded question. She lied, of course. RILEY: Great, thanks. And you? Busy buying up unsuspecting corporations?
FLYBOY1: I told you, I’m not ruthless and conniving in business. Just ruthless. FLYBOY1: Let’s just say I know how to get what I want. :) Did you have any complaints? RILEY: None. FLYBOY1: I just finished reading Dirty Little Secrets last night. Damn—she’d never even thought about him seeking out her book. Her poor, put-upon heart pounded even faster at the news. RILEY: And? FLYBOY: I want to know where Riley and Sloane Bennett stand. Because of the same reason her editor had—because it was an appealing story line? Or was there more to his question? How obvious was it that she’d loosely fashioned Sloane after him? She almost couldn’t breathe. RILEY: Well, as you read, Sloane had to return to his business. So . . . they’re finished, I suppose. FLYBOY1: I think that’s a bad idea. RILEY: Oh? FLYBOY1: I think you’re missing an opportunity. They were good together. In fact, I think Riley should hook up with the dark stranger again. Laura considered her answer, still unsure of what they were really talking about. For at least half a second, she seriously considered typing I love you into the box. But then she came to her senses and remembered how hurt she would be when he didn’t know what to say to that, and when it became clear that she’d just humiliated herself. She took a deep breath and tried to compose a reply. RILEY: I’m not sure how that would happen. They live three thousand miles apart. It seems unlikely they’ll bump into each other again on accident. It took a little while for him to answer. FLYBOY1: Would you be surprised to know I still miss you, snowflake? Laura’s throat clogged with emotion. She considered things she could say. I miss you every day. Every night. Then she thought of the Braden she’d come to know and love in the mountain home, and she instead told him something she knew he’d be thrilled to hear. RILEY: Sometimes I use the vibrator you gave me, and I think about you. FLYBOY1: God, honey, that’s nice. You just made me hard. Hot desire fluttered through her. RILEY: Feels like old times. FLYBOY1: I love to think about you fucking yourself with it, moving it in and out of your perfect little pussy. Do you keep it shaven? Laura pulled in her breath. The truth was no—she had no reason to. But she didn’t want to spoil the fantasy, didn’t want him to think she hadn’t remained the bolder, more sensual woman he’d made of her. RILEY: Sometimes. FLYBOY1: Ever think about installing a webcam on your end? The mere act of communicating with Braden, even just over the computer, was making Laura feel alive in a way she hadn’t in months. Keep the playful, naughty banter going, she commanded herself. Besides being exciting and fun, and a way to keep him in her life, maybe some cybersex would be enough to revive her creativity again. Yet to her surprise, something inside her slowly began to sink. She wanted to excite him, wanted