by Misha Carver
“Falling for me now, are you?” he laughed as he knelt down to help me up.
“It’s these damn shoes,” I said as I struggled to take them off.
“Problem solved,” he said as he wrapped one arm under my knees and the other around my back and lifted me up off the ground.
“Sweeping me off my feet now, are you?” I laughed.
“Otherwise you’d never make it to the door,” he said, giggling along with me.
I felt so tiny and small there in his arms while he carried me. His cologne continued to permeate my soul while I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my face against his chest.
Once we got to the doorstep, he stood me back up on my feet. I felt myself coming back down to earth from my cloud nine fantasies of devouring him.
I stood there looking up into his gorgeous green eyes. “I had a great time,” I said for the second time.
“So did I,” he said.
“We should do this...”
“Again sometime...” he finished my sentence for me.
We both burst into a sort of nervous laughter. It was as if neither of us knew what to do next while he stood there with his hands in his pockets and I stood there shifting my weight from leg to leg.
Finally, he put his hand on my waist and started pulling me closer. I’d been waiting so long to feel his lips on mine. I leaned in towards his face. Those seconds felt like hours until our lips finally touched, sending shivers up and down my spine.
When he pulled away from me, I smiled, thinking two down, one to go. He leaned in for another kiss, and I eagerly leaned in towards his juicy lips once again. This time as his soft tongue parted my lips, sparks flew and the earth moved. My hands were tracing his back, and his moved up to my hair. The more the kiss lingered on, the more I wanted him.
“Would you like to come inside?” I asked him when we came up for air. “I have coffee.”
“I know you do,” he said. “But I really have to go. Morning comes early. Goodnight, Alex.”
He gave me one more peck on the lips and then started walking back towards his car. I stood there on the doorstep as he drove away before I walked into the house. Oh well, I thought to myself, two out of three ain’t bad.
“Well, how did it go?” Allison asked as soon as I opened the door.
“Like you weren’t watching out the window,” I said.
“How’d you know?” she asked as her cheeks turned red.
“I know you,” I laughed. “Just so you know, my date went amazing with a capital A. I had a great time.”
“Are you going to go out with him again?” she asked as she started putting on her shoes.
“I hope so,” I answered.
After Allison left, I sat down on the couch and thought about Chance. Everything about him was perfect, and everything about our date was perfect. I’d never had such a fantastic time in my life, not even with Mike.
Even in the good days, Mike had never treated me like that, like a princess. All those years, I’d been missing out. I’d been holding myself back from being treated like a princess, the way Chance treated me. Now that I had him, I was never going to let him go.
I got up and grabbed a glass of wine from the kitchen. The more I thought about Mike the more infuriated I became. Mike who tortured me, Mike who spent my money, Mike who always stank like alcohol, Mike who ruined our lives.
He was finally in jail, but I wanted him completely out of my life, gone. I had to erase him somehow. Emily didn’t want him to come back, and neither did I. If neither of us wanted him back, then the memories had to disappear.
I saw the shiny object on the coffee table and knew it was time to take action. I grabbed the photo albums out of the closet and took the pictures out of each one before I started cutting him out of them. That’s a start, I thought before I started rummaging around some more.
I took all of his photos off the wall, and found every picture of him I could. As they all lay in front of me on the coffee table, I stared at them with hatred. “You miserable bastard,” I yelled. “How could you do this to us?”
I grabbed the old wooden bowl that belonged to my grandmother off the shelf in the corner and put it on the coffee table. The ornate rose carving on it was beautiful, and I’d cherished it for years. She’d always hated Mike while she was alive, and tonight she’d help me get rid of him.
One by one, I looked at each of his pictures for the last time and tossed them into the bowl. I hadn’t realized until then how pitiful he looked with the permanent smile that drunkenness gave him. When the last photo finally dropped in, I sighed a breath of relief, knowing that I wouldn’t have to look at that drunkard’s face again.
Now for the kill shot, I thought to myself as I looked around the room. “This morning’s newspaper sounds perfect, doesn’t it, Mike?” I said as I removed the front-page story about his arrest and carefully folded it before grabbing my lighter.
“Burn in hell, Mike,” I said as I put the newspaper into the bowl and watched it burn.
The pictures weren’t burning fast enough for me. Still seeing traces of his face, albeit distorted, made me head off into the kitchen in search of lighter fluid.
“This ought to finish you off,” I said when I came back, and doused the bowl with the lighter fluid before adding more newspaper and igniting it.
The flames danced around in the bowl, devouring all traces of Mike. Finally, I thought as I sat back on the couch feeling at peace with everything. He was finally out of our lives, once and for all. I took a few more sips of my wine, thinking ahead to the future, a future without Mike.
***
What the hell? I thought as a loud screeching sound lifted me up off the couch. It felt like someone was driving a nail through the center of my forehead and I couldn’t orient myself.
My eyes and throat stung as a thick fog circled around me. I couldn’t see. Oh my God, I thought, smoke. Then I heard the crackles, the sound of flames. It couldn’t be. I turned in their direction to see the curtains and the ceiling on fire. The entire room was on fire.
I scrambled toward the kitchen to find a fire extinguisher.
Don’t be so stupid, my brain kept shouting. Call 911. You can put this out yourself, my inner voice kept telling me, you’re a seasoned firefighter.
I pushed forward toward the kitchen despite the heat. Charred blocks of wood were falling everywhere as I dodged them.
I can make it, I thought. It’s just a few more steps. The harder I choked the dizzier I got, until everything finally turned black.
The End of Big City Heat Book 1 – Light My Fire
To find out what happens next:
Read Book 2 – I’m On Fire
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About The Author
I love to write stories about powerful men and women and the romances fiascos they find themselves in. Whether it’s billionaires, shifters, bad boys, or just ordinary people, they’ll make their way into one of my books.
So many stories flood my imagination every day. I love to write them down so other people can enjoy them too. For me writing isn’t a job. When I write, I see the stories playing out in my head. It’s almost like going to the movies for free. I hope you have the same experience when you read them.
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