Snippet: Lou ‘n Lucky #amwriting #erotic #paranormal #romance #interracial

Hey, y’all. I’m still plugging away. I’ve been working with my designer on the cover, and it is too cute! I hope y’all like it. I’ll probably release it in the next few weeks. Anyway, I’ve been writing a lot of back story about Lucky as a baby demon in his natural environment. But here’s a little unedited taste from Lou and Lucky present day. – SS

“Why did you join the military?”

“I didn’t care to go to college,” he shrugged. “I like to read and write, but I’m not good sitting indoors all day. I thought it would be interesting. I wanted excitement. The idea of traveling and fighting appealed to me.”

“At first.”

“Yes.”

“Did you like the Marines?”

“Yes. I liked the order, and I didn’t feel lonely.”

Lou thought that was telling. Most men wouldn’t admit under pain of death that they were lonely. Well, unless they were trying to run game on you, or get sympathy. They never just said it straight out like that, like, here’s a fact, shitty as it may be, ta.

And here she was, staring at him with her transparent face on, and he didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t trying to smile off any discomfort or mean mug her in return. He just looked back, her tall, golden Buddha.

Weird.

“Was it hard? The Marines, I mean. I’ve heard some horrific stories about the training. Running for miles, through mud and rain, holding your breath under water until you’re a hair’s breadth from drowning, only to make you do it all over again.”

He shrugged. “Not for me.”

She could understand that. She’d been watching him work for days now, lifting sinks and toilets like hand bags, taking stairs three at a time every time he touched one. His body was a marvel, one she’d been caught eyeballing more than once.

And so bloody what. She was normal, wasn’t she? Christ, he was every woman’s fantasy: a man who didn’t irritate or need prodding to work, and was lovely to look at.

It would have been enough that he was essentially fixing everything in her fucking house. House being a large, perhaps too large rental property she’d taken on after her silly ex-girlfriend made it impossible for her to live in her smaller, more manageable rental property, but her house nonetheless.

She knew how attractive that quality was in a man even before he got here. She’d watched her girlfriend Reiko fall in love with her own Handyman, a Half Mexican, Half Spaniard named Jack.

She wondered if Lucky planned to make a move on her. Suddenly she didn’t feel like being easy. She wondered how he’d do with a moving target.

“I’m going for a walk.”

“It’s late.”

Lou didn’t stop putting on her trainers.

“I will go with you.”

She said nothing, and he followed her out. She set a fast pace, not because she wanted to outrun him – that was impossible; his legs were damn near as long as she was – but because she felt like exhausting herself. Sometimes she got tired of thinking. Of her bloody brain’s insistence on going ‘round and ‘round in circles like it was determined to drive her fucking crazy.

“What’s wrong?”

Lou shrugged.

“You are unsettled.”

Lou said nothing. He was right, but what was there to say? I think I’m going crazy? Would it freak you out if I burst out crying right now, dried up and then started laughing like a loon? She’d done just that this morning. She needed to check her calendar. Her period was probably coming. That was a guaranteed ticket to the crazy farm for at least a week. Comforting in a way. At least then she had a reason for the bedlam that went on above her neck.

He reached out to stroke her back, and surprisingly, she calmed. That damned heat of his. He was like a banked fire. She edged closer, snorting because she knew better and still couldn’t help herself.

“I’m not a restful person.”

“No?”

“No. But strangely around you I feel that way.”

“Is that bad?” He stroked her back again, one long swipe that loosened her spine and sent another rush of heat through her torso and her breasts and belly tingling. How did he do that? It was the most sensuous fire, a feeling like one she might write in one of her books. It made her want to bite him, grind herself all over his body until he got rough with her. Then give him what he wanted, wind herself around him like a cat and fall asleep in his lap.

“You work for me.”

“Yes. I do. If we make love, I will still work for you.”

She laughed softly. “Well, that’s plain speaking for you.”

“You like plain speaking.”

“I do indeed. But I’ve yet to meet a man who does. Most of you kick and fuss that women are too emotional, but at the end of the day it’s you lot who get bent out of shape about things.”

“Yes?”

“Fuss pots, the lot of ya.”

“Potts,” he repeated, grinning and she laughed, knowing he was referring to her butler/his friend.

She hadn’t expect this. To be charmed by him. It felt weird that it didn’t feel weird. She hadn’t been this mentally engaged by a man in years, and Potts did not count.

“Shall we just get it over with?”

Of course she had no intention of sleeping with him that night. She didn’t quite feel like it. But she poked him anyway, testing to see if he’d bite so she could dismiss him and walk away.

“No.”

Well how do you like that…?

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