by Tessa Teevan
“What are you doing, Charlie?”
“Back away slowly. The way I see it, we have at least ten minutes. That’s long enough, right?”
I can hear him chuckle behind me, and I let out a yelp when he picks me up and carries me out the door, into the elevator, and up to our room. He doesn’t put me down until he drops me on the bed, where he promptly joins me.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I cherish the feel of him pressed up against my body. “I love those two, but they have me so tired that I don’t know if I want to take this break to nap or let you have your way with me.”
He unzips my dress, and I stand to step out of it, careful to lay it out on a chair so it doesn’t get wrinkled. I quickly get out of the lingerie I’m wearing underneath. When I turn back to him, he’s already out of his uniform and waiting for me. And when I say he’s waiting for me, I mean all of him is one hundred percent ready.
Pulling me onto his lap, Knox runs a finger down my back as I straddle his waist.
“We can nap later, babe. Right now, I’m too turned on after seeing you in and now out of that dress.”
“I don’t know, Rugged. They were up all night last night, and Lexi said they slept all the way through the wedding, so I’m afraid it’s going to be a long night.” I’m only teasing, knowing I’m too sexually charged to even think about sleep right now.
He wraps his arms around me, and pulls me in so our chests press against each other. “I don’t know how much sleep you’ll get tonight, but it won’t be because of the twins,” he says, grinning at me.
I pull back, wondering what he means. “What are you saying?”
“I may have arranged for Jace and Lexi to keep the kids tonight,” he tells me, and he barely gets the words out before I grab his face and plant a big, wet kiss on his lips. I love my twins, I really do, but the thought of a night of sleep without hearing a baby cry? Yeah, my husband is definitely getting lucky at least twice tonight.
“Lexi’s taking on the twins and Maya? She’s a saint.” Knowing that Lexi already has her hands full with her one-year-old, I feel a little bad that she’s going to be juggling three babies, but I push the thought aside. “Have I told you that you’re the best husband ever?”
“Only one or two hundred times, but that’s probably the same amount of times you’ve called me an ass, too.”
Lifting up, I guide him to my entrance and sink down until I’m fully filled, but I remain still. “Yeah, well you’re the best husband ever who can sometimes be an ass. But you’re my ass and I love you. That’ll never change. Not even when you pretend you don’t know a dirty diaper when you smell one and then hand a baby to me before disappearing.”
Knox leans in close, pressing a kiss to my lips as he lifts his hips up, trying to get me to move. “What can I say? My sense of smell must be going out,” he jokes, grinning at me before he pulls back and stares deep into my eyes as he rocks up into me. “I love you, Charlotte Rose Wellington, and I always will. That’s a fucking promise.”
The End
Read Jace and Alexa’s story in Ignite - Available Now.
Stay tuned for Inflame, Kale and Lucy’s story - Coming Spring 2014.
Let It Be Me- Ray LaMontagne
You Have My Attention- Copeland
Broken- Lifehouse
Say You'll Haunt Me- Stone Sour
So Contagious- Acceptance
Different- Acceptance
Taciturn- Stone Sour
If You Want Me- One Less Reason
Can't Shake You- Gloriana
Kissed You Good Night- Gloriana
Come Wake Me Up- Rascal Flatts
You Make Me Want To- Luke Bryan
Let Me Down Easy- Billy Currington
Haunted- Taylor Swift
Make Me Wanna- Thomas Rhett
Everything Has Changed- Taylor Swift & Ed Sheeran
Wrecking Ball- Miley Cyrus
Tomorrow- Chris Young
Don't You Wanna Stay- Jason Aldean & Kelly Clarkson
Hands On You- Florida Georgia Line
Whatever It Takes- Lifehouse
All I Need- Needmore
Ring of Fire- Johnny Cash
Say Something- Tyler Ward
Falling- Tyler Ward feat. Alex G.
That's When I Knew- Alicia Keys
Stay Awhile-Journey
Hell On The Heart- Eric Church
The Mess I Made- Parachute
She Is Love- Parachute
Crazy Girl- Eli Young Band
Blank Page- Christina Aguilera
Climax- Usher
Sex Never Felt Better- TGT
Hand on Heart- Olly Murs
Beg For It- Chris Brown
I Choose You- Sara Bareilles
Lucky- Jason Mraz, Colbie Caillat
Hot N Cold- Katy Perry
On My Mind- Tyler Ward
All of Me- John Legend
The Day Before You- Matthew West
Say Something- A Great Big World feat. Christina Aguilera
Some Kind of Beautiful- Tyler Ward feat. Lindsey Sterling
Derek, no amount of words would ever been enough to express how grateful I am for all your love and support, and most of all, your patience. You’ve put up with an ungodly amount of dirty dishes, laundry loads, and uncooked meals while I wrote Incinerate. I’m sure our cats also appreciate that there’s still someone around to feed them! I love you, whole-heartedly, and I couldn’t do this without you.
Teri Beth, you’re a magician. Seriously. Incinerate wouldn’t be nearly as polished if your eyes hadn’t come over it with a fine-tooth comb. There’d be an insane amount of ‘so’ written through the book. I’m so grateful to have you on my team.
Stacy, thank you! That’s all I can say. You’re my sounding board on so many things, and I’d be ridiculously stressed if I didn’t have you to vent to. I love your notes by way of voice message. They’re pretty awesome. Keep them coming!
Jenna, he’s the guy you’ve been waiting on! Your notes were invaluable in making Knox the character that you’ve loved since the beginning. I hope I did him justice for you!
Michelle and Bianca, I am so excited I was able to turn you from ARC readers to beta readers. Your input is extremely invaluable, and I love the passion that you express for all of my characters, from Jace to Knox to Sawyer. Michelle, you’re the music queen, and I love getting all your ramblings and music videos that make you think about my characters. Bianca, I always love making you cry, and I promise to never stop!
Aly and Stacey- My OG sprinting partners! You guys are pretty much the best. I love love love every single moment of our sprints, even if we often get sidetracked with wine and pictures of hot guys. I love you ladies to pieces and I am so happy to call you my friends!
The ladies of IRAC, you are the best group of women that I’ve had the pleasure to meet. It’s amazing that we get any writing done with all of the crazy, daily shenanigans, but somehow, we do it. I’m so blessed to be part of such a supportive group. Here’s to many, many, many more successful books for all of us!
The BCG, you’re the best beta group an author could have. I’m so grateful that you guys are there to kick my ass when it needs and that you let me bounce ideas off you without you all thinking I’m crazy. It’s also nice being able to share pics of hot guys!
Ash and Erica, I couldn’t have done this without you guys taking over the blog. You are ROCK STARS and I love you both!
Joshua Saari, not only are you an awesome cover model, but you’re a complete sweetheart. I appreciate all of your support, and the shout-outs you give your fans. I appreciate you giving a chance on me and my work. You choosing me as your first author and book cover is an extreme honor.
There are so many people that worked behind the scenes to make Incinerate happen. Jennifer, Robin, and Mickey, thank you from the bottom of my heart for making this such an easy process. I couldn’t do it without any of you!
Lastly, to my readers. Thank you, from t
he bottom of my heart, for taking a chance on me and my book. I hope you fall in love with Knox and Charlie just like I did.
I'm a twenty six year old book junkie who decided that there were too many stories in my head to keep to myself. I work for the government by day and write by night. It’s a crazy, busy life, and I love every single second of it.
If I’m not writing or looking through tons of photos of hot men, all in the name of research, then you can probably find me curled up with my Kindle, ignoring the rest of the world. I love my sports almost as much as I love my books. My other obsessions include red wine, hot men, country music, and all things Grace Potter.
I LOVE to hear from readers, so please feel free to contact via any social media site listed below.
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Email: [email protected]
Sneak Peak of Fade In by M. Mabie
Coming Soon in March 2014
a contemporary romance from a debuting author
Chapter 1
Masturbating Makes You Go Blind
“Date of birth?”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Charlotte? You know my date of birth. You just told me happy birthday when I walked in! I know you have to ask, but do you really have to ask? I’ve been coming here since I was fourteen. It’s a little redundant. Don’t you think?”
Charlotte is Dr. Meade’s receptionist. She’s about a hundred years old and wears “slacks,” and a lovely parka that could be fashioned from the cat hair hanging from her blouse. She’s my favorite brand of old lady. Don’t tell anyone I said that.
“I’m sorry. I’m just anxious. I didn’t mean to cuss you out for doing your job.” That’s me. I blow up and then apologize. I have no filter when I’m nervous. “Four, twenty, nineteen eighty-five.”
“Thank you, Tatum. Doctor is on schedule. It should only be a minute. Are you doing anything fun for your birthday? Is Kurt taking you anywhere?” She waves her hand in a big way to let me know I can sit.
“I think we are going to dinner with Winnie and Coop. They are picking me up here in a while. Any recommendations? I’m supposed to be deciding where to go. I hate that. Deciding where to eat. It’s like…” And mid-sentence, on my way to the seat, that, mind you, I’ve sat in almost every time I’ve been here for years, I slam my shin into something. “Son of a bitch!”
I look down and see that I hit it hard enough to shove the coffee table back a foot or so.
“Charlotte, when did this piece of shit get moved here? Ouch.” Oh, yeah. I’m losing my sight. Seems cruel to move furniture on an almost blind klutz, doesn’t it?
I sit, and she comes around her desk to check on me. Moving the offending table back to its rightful position, she picks up the magazines that fell off.
“I’m sorry, dear. I put that there the other day. It was by the window. Then the fichus was dying and—oh dear. I’m so sorry. I should have said to mind the coffee table.” Looking as guilty as the cat that ate the canary, she stands before me, all apologies. Like it’s her fault I can’t navigate around a four-foot-long inanimate object.
“It isn’t your fault,” I say, rubbing my battered leg. It isn’t like that is the only bruise I have earned myself. Today.
As if on cue, Dr. Meade walks through the door that leads back to the patient rooms. “Tatum. Happy Birthday. Did Charlotte finally get sick of your potty mouth and kick you?”
Ha. Ha. They look between each other and have a nice chuckle at my expense. No pity from him.
“No, Dr. Evil. I whacked my leg on that wretched table,” I replied in an innocent singsong voice. “Real classy to shift around the furnishings before your favorite handicapable patient arrives. Bravo.”
He comes to me and offers me a hand up. I accept and limp my lame ass toward the door with him. His hand is warm and big. He lets go so I can follow him down the hall to the examination room toward which he is steering us.
He stops just short of exam room four and waves me past him. He smells like rubbing alcohol and cologne. Strangely it smells good to me. It’s familiar.
I have tried to figure out how old Dr. Meade is many times. When I first met him, he seemed way too young to be my doctor. If I had to guess, I would say late thirties or early forties.
I’ve always thought he was handsome. His dark hair is beginning to lighten around the edges, and his kind and easy smile has left charming laugh lines around his eyes and mouth.
Of course, I get to look at him closely during my visits, and I have been his patient for a long time. I can see pretty well up close if I’m looking directly at something. That is the strange thing about my condition.
I have RP, or Retinitis Pigmentosa if you’re fancy. Let me break it down for you. It started when I was a teenager. I had poor peripheral vision—not awful but poor. I was diagnosed then with RP. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Who needs peripheral vision?
It sort of stayed the same for a long time, and other than that, my vision was pretty good. I made it fine through college, sight in tow. I landed a great job. Bought a fabulous apartment on the Upper East Side, and everything was smooth sailing.
Then around the time I turned twenty-six, it started getting worse. I always came to see Dr. Meade on a regular basis to monitor the condition. He could tell, too. I suppose he’d be a pretty crappy eye doctor if he hadn’t noticed.
Our plan was to just monitor it, and then he would let me know if treatment became available. So far, it’s just a good dose of vitamin A. Seriously. That is all the remedy they have.
I can still see pretty well. Although, it is not as good as it was six months ago. Simply, it’s like tunnel vision. For a long time it has just been a fuzzy gray edge around my field of sight.
Then it got darker and the rim got wider. Now it is about thirty percent gone. So it’s still better than it could be, but it’s a lot like looking through a port hole on a ship, and my night vision is really starting to suck a big one.
“I like your haircut, Tatum. It looks nice for summer. I don’t think I have ever seen you wear it this short.”
“Thank you. You can’t help but flirt, can you?” I wink, and he lets my flirting slide. He always does. “It is just easier to fix in the morning. We’ve been busy at the show, and it was just a pile on my head by the end of the day anyway. I had no use for it.”
“Well, I’m glad you are cutting out the unnecessary. Simplifying.” Dr. Meade smiles as if it were his idea to have Luis, our staff stylist, cut nearly a foot off my blond hair. He motions for me to sit in the chair and I do.
“You look pleased. Should I have my stylist send you the bill?” We laugh—him in earnest and me sarcastically.
“No. I’m just glad that you’re making things easier for yourself.” I know he’s just being honest, but I don’t like it. It makes me uncomfortable being real about what’s going on.
Sitting in his chair, he wheels toward me with his clipboard. “How have you been feeling? Any headaches?”
“Only when I smack it off something. Same goes for my toe aches and leg aches.” That earns me a look. “No. I still haven’t had many headaches.”
“Good. Have you noticed your peripheral vision getting worse? Is your tunnel vision narrowing more? Are you more tired than normal?” He’s writing and lifts his head up. “Just answer, Tatum. I can’t say anything to anyone. You can tell me.”
“It is getting narrower, but not by a lot. I’ve been measuring it sort of. Like at work. I use to be able to see both of the cameras from offstage. Now it’s like I’m looking right in between them. My night vision is almost nonexistent. If I wake up in the middle of the night, and there isn’t a light on, I can barely see to get to the bathroom without waking up Kurt by bumping around. It isn’t like he wants to sleep with the light on. Who would?” I sigh, knowing that I didn’t really need to tell him all of that, but again, I’m nervous and can’t help it.
“Well, we were expecting that. If the light is on, can you see better when you wake up?” He asks like he is talking to a child.
“Yes, but it takes a minute for everything to focus. It comes back in a few seconds and everything is back to shitty-ass normal. Tell me the truth. Is this because of my adolescent masturbating? I was told that leads to blindness.”
“This again!? Would you quit with the masturbating!” He almost shouts.
“I wish I could. It’s just that I’m so good at it.” I know its bad timing, and timing is supposed to be everything. It’s just that sometimes my dirty mouth rescues me with a perverted life jacket and it’s always just my size.
Why should I be the only one uncomfortable? If you can’t beat me, I’ll make you join me.
“You know what I mean. You need to talk to someone. Have you considered seeing a therapist that specializes in people who are visually impaired? Would you use a referral? You always do that, you know? This is serious.”
“Do what?” I know I’m baiting him again to say something I can twist around into dirty word play and embarrass him into changing the subject, but it isn’t as effective as it used to be. Have I desensitized my optometrist?
“You know what. I think you could benefit from seeing someone who can help guide you through this transition. You should also consider going to a facility that can teach you practical ways to deal with how your life is going to be.”
“Like a fat farm? No way. I’m not going to blind camp. Not going to happen.” This isn’t the first time he has approached me with the idea of therapists and blind school. I’m not ready for that, and I don’t mean to sound like a better-than-somebody snot either. I can hardly see me keeping my mouth shut around other people who would probably benefit from me not being there.
“Don’t totally dismiss the idea of getting help with this. I will try to think of some alternatives for you. You wouldn’t last a day there anyway. They wouldn’t be able to handle you.” And there is my Dr. Meade. Swinging it right back at me.
“Great idea. Alternatives. You think on that. I will hire another assistant for my personal life and start interviewing housekeepers. See? This is compromise. You said make life simpler. You do your thing and I’ll do mine.”
