I haven’t posted in far too long – bad writer! – but I’m back in the game, y’all. Hopefully you’ve been getting my tweets so you didn’t think I was dead. I will begin the editing process this weekend – fingers crossed – on Charlie and Tunie’s story. But meantime, here’s an unedited snippet to whet your appetite for the final book. In it I tease out a big revelation that will impact interactions between our hero and heroine for the rest of the story. Enjoy, and be sure to let me what you think! – SS
She lay blinking, shocked, half wondering if she was still alive. But he was heavy. She could feel him breathing. She could feel the heat of his skin, its dampness. She could feel his heart thumping against her own. She wanted to touch him. To rub the sweat from her body and his between her fingers, but she couldn’t move. Her bones had turned to water.
Huffing loudly, he rolled to the side and lay there catching his breath. His hand found hers, and when their fingers laced she sighed.
He wondered what she was thinking. She didn’t seem upset, thank God. It would have been a tragedy if she had been – the sex was fantastic. She was so responsive. Like a Viper he’d once driven. He’d barely had to touch the wheel, barely pressed on its pedals before the car did whatever he wanted, fast. She’d gone off like a rocket in his arms, and like the Viper it had been the most delicious rush. And she felt that rush twice, he thought smugly.
She’d seemed surprised, almost shocked by their loving. Despite those old woman eyes of hers, her innocence had been obvious. In fact, he was looking forward with great anticipation to thoroughly corrupting her. He could already feel his body stirring for another round. He wanted to cover her back this time, to push into her warmth while she was on her knees. Then they could shower, and he could teach her to suck his cock, if she didn’t know how.
He had to stifle a groan and the graphic image that came to mind of her on her knees, those big eyes wide and slumberous, her full lips parted to receive him. He’d guide her gently by the head, perhaps with both hands buried in that silky crop of short black hair. He shivered. He could mold her like warm clay. She was going to be the perfect mistress.
Thank God he liked coffee.
Tired of the fare on offer in his local coffee shop, he’d been on the verge of finding a new place to have his breakfast when she was hired. But when he first saw her little face he found he’d changed his mind. He barely tasted the food then. He was too busy watching her and struggling to curtail the urge to come to the little shop more than his usual twice a week. He’d watched her for weeks, waiting for an opportunity to speak to her.
When it came he was discomfited – no reasonable man enjoyed the sight of a woman’s tears – but determined, thrusting his handkerchief into her hands to wipe her streaming eyes. Then later one flip comment gave him just the opening he needed to make her his.
“It’s been a long time for you,” he repeated.
“I haven’t had sex in almost 10 years.”
Charles froze, then pulled her by their joined hands until their faces were aligned. “What?”
Her eyes fell from his. “I didn’t mean to say that,” she whispered, and tried to pull away.
“Be still,” he ordered, subduing her easily. He was shocked when she tried to run, yanking hard on her hands in his. She almost got away, but he pulled her against his body, and she was no match for his strength. “Be still before you hurt yourself!”
Tunie stopped struggling. All she’d accomplished was tearing up her side of the bed and kicking all the covers to the floor. Which meant she was naked and vulnerable with a man who wanted answers she did not want to give.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
He laughed softly. “That’s not a reason, and I’m not letting you up until you tell me why a beautiful woman like you hasn’t been touched in so long. Not that I’m upset,” he whispered, rolling over and deliberately pressing her into the bed. “Oh, no, Tunie. Don’t cry.” He kissed the tears falling. “No, my girl. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” Women crying always made him panicky. What to do? “I’m sorry, Tunie. I just want to know about you, please.”
With a great sniff, she seemed to make a valiant effort to get hold of herself, and he felt a strange rush of pride seeing her struggle so manfully for control. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
He laughed softly. “I’m afraid you have to tell me now. I’m eaten up with curiosity, and if you’re this upset, maybe sharing will make you feel better.”
For a long, silent moment he thought she wasn’t going to obey, but then she sighed. A sad defeated thing that made him tug her close. She resisted, and he subsided, not wanting to upset her any further.
“If I tell you will you let me up?”
She sounded so, dead, but hurt. He scowled; he hated it. Even facing eviction she’d still had some spunk. Now, suddenly she sounded bloodless. Part of him wanted to let it go, not to press for the information that had caused this upset. He wanted to release the small hands curled into fists above her bound wrists. If something was hurting her this badly, it might hurt even worse if he brought it to light. But he hadn’t gotten where he was by backing down when he wanted something. He wanted Tunie, and he wanted to know rather more than he wanted his next orgasm – which was saying something – why on earth she had been untouched for a decade.
At first he didn’t think she was going to tell him. She withdrew to her side of the bed, turned away and pulled the covers up until all that showed was the side of her face. He didn’t like it. He wanted her bare, accessible. But to take away the cover might traumatize her, and he didn’t want to break her, only to hear the truth…