Cut Loose

by Julia Wolf

  He shook his head. “But you know I’d never do anything like that to you, or treat you like that.”

  “I do know that. I was more worried I’d do that to you.”

  James’ hands balled into fists and he frowned angrily. “Don’t talk about yourself that way. You broke my fucking heart, but that was out of fear. Frannie, I know you, you’re not like your parents.”

  I covered his fists with my hands and eased them open. “Can I explain something to you in a way you’ll understand? I actually researched this and wrote it down.”

  He appeared bemused. “You did research?”

  “I did.” I pulled a piece of paper out of my hoodie pocket. “Hold all questions until I’m finished, please.”

  James chuckled. “I’ll try to hold back.”

  I cleared my throat. “I have come to the conclusion that my algorithm was programmed incorrectly. There was a flaw, you see, with reinforcement learning. The idea that love was toxic was input into my machine at an early age and it was reinforced over and over until my output was fear. So my machine learned to cluster together like items like men and affection and love and mush them together for internal compactness.”

  James started to speak, but I waved him off. “No questions. This will all make sense in the end! Then I met you, and my flawed algorithm attempted to cluster you with all the others, but you didn’t fit with my collected data. So, my learning classifier system attempted to make predictions about you based on the data I’ve stored, but the context was off, and the predictions were found to be invalid.”

  “Frannie—”

  “Wait! I’m getting to the best part! These last two weeks we’ve been apart, I recognized the flaw in my own algorithm, so I’ve been de-bugging and reprogramming myself. Now I’m set to deep learning and I want to go deep with you. I want to dive in layer by layer and sort through the abstractions so I can improve performance. I want to deep learn with you, James. Will you deep learn with me?”

  I put the paper down where I’d scrawled every computer programming term I could find and looked at James. He seemed stunned.

  “Frannie, I love you,” James said with wide eyes.

  I laughed. “You do?”

  “I do. What you just said—”

  “Impressive, right? I put a lot of work into that!” I was internally patting myself on the back.

  “I’m honored you did that for me. It made no fucking sense, but I love you anyway.”

  I kicked his shin. “Are you kidding me? That totally made sense!”

  He smiled and stroked a finger down my cheek. “I understood what you meant, Frannie. I get it, you and me together was a big surprise, it did not compute, so you tried to reject the idea. But I think we make perfect sense.”

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you, James. I regretted it the second the words left my mouth, but I kept talking and it kept snowballing. I promise you I’m not scared anymore. I’d rather feel the pain when it ends than not have you.”

  James pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him and stroked up and down my back. “Why does it have to end?”

  I leaned my forehead against his. “I hope, more than anything, that it doesn’t. I love you and I missed you so much.”

  James cupped my cheeks. “I missed you, too. Life is really boring without you in it.” He kissed me lightly and I sighed into his lips. We sat like that for a long time, breathing each other in and out. My eyes closed, and I became hypnotized by the rhythmic rise and fall of my chest against his.

  I must have started drifting, because suddenly James was standing with me cradled in his arms and then he carried me to bed. He laid down next to me and his big, strong body curled around mine. I smiled as he nuzzled into the back of my neck and let sleep take me.

  Thirty-One

  I was having a dream. In my dream, James showed up in the middle of the night and I said some ridiculous things about computers that made absolutely no sense, then he carried me to bed. Obviously, I was still dreaming, because I felt him wrapped around me, slowly stroking my stomach.

  “Pinch me.” I didn’t open my eyes. Because I was dreaming.

  “What?” Dream James asked.

  “Pinch me. There’s no way you’re actually here, in my bed.”

  I felt a pinch right on the bottom of my butt, and I laughed and kicked my feet in the air. Then I rolled over to face him. Dream James was real James.

  I immediately tangled my hands in his beard. “You’re here.”

  “Did you forget?” He smiled, and it reached all the way to his eyes. His beautiful, soulful brown eyes.

  “I wasn’t sure if it actually happened.” Then I whispered, “Did I say really weird things last night?”

  He pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “You said a lot of adorable and amazing things last night.”

  “Which was your favorite?”

  “I think there was something about you being in love with me? Not quite sure…”

  I nodded and grinned. “Oh yeah, I remember that part. Still true.”

  James cupped my cheek with his hand and sighed. “I love you, Frannie. Let’s just…not do that again.”

  I laid my hand on his chest, feeling his beating heart beneath my fingers. “I love you too, James. And no, that wasn’t a good idea, so we should definitely never do that again.”

  James’ eyes searched my face, as if he was making sure I wasn’t a dream. “I want you to know I’ll never lie to you or keep anything from you.”

  “I believe you. We’ll figure it all out together.”

  He put his hand around mine, trapping them between both our chests. “You and me like this, this is a good idea.”

  I tilted my head up and kissed him softly. “The best idea.”

  “The best,” he whispered, then took my mouth with his. The kiss was almost heartbreaking in its tenderness. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to mine to deepen our connection. His lips covered mine and his tongue and my tongue slid together as we kissed and kissed and made up for weeks of not kissing. I never wanted to go another day without kissing this man.

  I slung my leg over his hip and lifted the hem of his shirt so I could touch his bare skin. I ran my hand up his side and around his back, but we weren’t nearly close enough. Tearing my mouth away from his, I sat up to take my sweatshirt off and James ripped his T-shirt off too. Then I laid down on top of him, sighing with relief when my skin was finally pressed against his.

  “You feel so good.” I nuzzled into his neck, inhaling his scent. “You smell so good too. Like my sweet James.”

  I wanted him, but I didn’t hurry. We needed this moment of just holding one another, synchronizing our heartbeats, feeling. James trailed his fingers up and down my spine and I tried to concentrate on every sensation. Orange spice, beard tickling my cheek, hot breath, callused fingertips, the thump, thump, thump of my heart calling to his.

  I lifted my head and kissed him again, pouring all of my love and the ache of our time apart from my lips to his. There was sadness there, but also a new start. We kissed until neither of us could breathe, then we kissed some more.

  James rolled us so I was under him. He slowly made his way down my body, licking, biting, and sucking my skin. He buried his face between my breasts, his beard scratching the delicate skin. He sighed heavily, then pressed a kiss over my heart.

  He kneeled between my legs and met my eyes as he outlined the curve of my torso with his palms. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I never thought I’d have him back in my bed like this, looking at me like I was something rare and beautiful. Before, I’d had the urge to run when his gaze turned adoring. Now, I wanted him to see the same thing in my eyes. Because James was the most rare, and so breathtakingly beautiful with the sun streaming in on him, casting a glow on his auburn hair.

  I caught his hands and wove my fingers with his. “I love you, James,” I whispered.

  He leaned over and feathered a kiss across my lips. “I
love you, Frannie.”

  My eyelids fluttered, but I kept them open as I arched my back and sighed his name. Slowly, he pushed my pants down my hips, peppering my exposed skin with kisses. When my pants were finally off and I was bare before him, I threaded my hands through his hair as he trailed his tongue along my inner thigh.

  He looked up to watch me as he leisurely parted my folds and ran a finger from my opening to my clit and back down again. Then he slid his finger inside me, his eyes never leaving mine.

  James leaned forward and kissed my hips and stomach, then he laid down between my legs and his tongue followed the same path his finger had, licking me from bottom to top, making me shudder. He added another finger inside me and his tongue circled my clit, round and round.

  “James…oh…” I mumbled. I may have started saying his name like a chant when he sucked my clit between his lips and plunged his fingers in deep. My hips bucked and when he curled his fingers just right, massaging that sensitive spot deep inside me, almost my entire body arched off the bed. James kept me there, holding me as I fell apart beneath him. He gathered my pieces with his tongue and held me together with his lips. I came until my lungs and the muscles in my legs felt like I’d done a thousand leaps across the ocean floor.

  James crawled up my body and rested his hips between my legs. He kissed my neck and jaw while I caught my breath. My eyes were closed, but I could feel him watching me as he wiped my hair off my sweaty forehead.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and opened my eyes. He smiled down at me, then guided his cock inside me, filling me at a torturously slow pace. My legs tightened around him and my hips moved with his, still so slowly.

  James was stoic, quiet as always, but his eyes communicated everything. He looked like a man who’d just come home after a long, arduous journey. He looked relieved and elated. James looked like a man in love, and he showed me with his body, his mouth, and his gaze, that I was the object of his devotion.

  We made love for what felt like days, all of our movements in slow motion as we reclaimed one another. When we were both close, James pushed up on his elbows and circled his hips, his pelvis grinding against my clit. I kept my eyes open as I came, digging my fingers into the taut, corded muscles on his forearms. James watched me with a look of wonder, then he followed me into the abyss, plunging until he hit the end of me and groaning my name.

  He collapsed and rolled us over so I was on top of him again. We laid like that for a long time, while he softened inside me.

  “Love you, Francisca,” he rumbled quietly.

  I lifted my head up and wrinkled my nose. “Francisca, huh?”

  “Felt like a Francisca moment.”

  “I love you too, James.” I noticed the clock and groaned. “You realize I actually have to work today, right? Like, I have to get out of this bed and leave you.”

  He wrapped his arms around me. “Nope.”

  “I have to. Jane Sparks has an appointment today and she needs her fireball hair.”

  James laughed. “Somehow, I can picture what that would look like.”

  I dug my hands into his beard and studied his face. “Hey, James?”

  “Yes, Frannie?”

  “Can I ask you one more thing about before?”

  “Okay…” He seemed dubious.

  “Well, you weren’t with anyone else between our first and second time together. So, I keep wondering how the hell you were so much better and seemed to actually know what you were doing?”

  James shifted around, his eyes focused on something over my shoulder, then muttered something too quiet to hear, even though I was right on top of him.

  “What?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I read some books.” James was blushing bright red.

  I grinned. “What kind of books did you read, fella?”

  “Women’s erotica. Can we never talk about this again?”

  I tugged his beard until his eyes were on me. “I’ll agree if you send me the links. These sound like some dirty, dirty books and I want to read them.” Then I softened against him and pressed my lips to his. “Thank you, James. You are amazing.”

  “Don’t you understand, Frannie? I’d do anything for you. Even read books with ripped bodices and pirates.”

  I fell off him laughing. “Oh my god, now I have to know what you read!”

  He rolled on top of me and pressed his dick into my folds. I stopped laughing then.

  Without a completely serious expression, I asked, “If we were in your book and you’d ripped my bodice off, would you say Now I’m going to plunder your booty?”

  James flopped back on his side of the bed and groaned. “I wasn’t serious about the pirates! Jesus, Frannie, I love you so hard.”

  “I love you too, my sweet James. I love you too.”

  I smiled and hugged him because even though I loved him hard too, it was easy to do, especially when I didn’t fight against it.

  We were going to dive deep together, explore our underwater caverns and hidden depths, and instead of being scary, it would be beautiful. We’d take turns lighting the way, and sometimes one of us would lead, sometimes the other would. And I felt sure, without any doubt, James would keep me safe from any of the dangers of the deep, deep sea ahead of us, and I would do the same for him.

  A few months ago, I would have been afraid of the unknown ahead of us. But being with James, loving him and letting him love me, had changed me. My sweet James had reprogrammed my algorithm, reshaped my vector, and disentangled my layers.

  Or something like that.

  Acknowledgments

  My husband is the ultimate computer genius. He could give James a run for his money. I never could have written about James’ job without his help. He gave me the words and attempted to correct my phrasing. But let’s face it, I’m pretty much on Frannie’s level when it comes to computers. Any errors are my own...or Frannie’s.

  So, thank you Dan, for your generous, patient spirit and obscenely knowledgeable mind. I certainly couldn’t have written this book with you!

  I’d like to thanks my editors, Emily Lawrence and Monica Black for taking my words and making them pretty.

  To my RomCom peeps: Elizabeth Lynx, Jami Albright, Cassie-Ann L. Miller, and Marika Ray, thank you so much for your support. You lifted me up and turned me in the right direction when I was feeling lost and unsure. Your help was invaluable.

  Thank you to my beta readers, Felicia and Tonya. Your critique and advice helped me shape my story into something more and, I think, better.

  Lastly, but never least, I’d like to thank goats. Keep on keepin’ on with your goat selves!

  About the Author

  Julia Wolf is a lover of all things romance. From steamy, to sweet, to funny, to so dirty you’ll be blushing for days, she loves it all.

  Formerly a hair stylist, she spent years collecting stories her clients couldn’t wait to spill. And now that she’s writing full time, she’s putting those stories to use, although all identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent!

  Julia lives in Maryland with her three crazy, beautiful kids and her patient husband who she’s slowly converting to a romance reader, one book at a time.

  Visit my website:

  www.juliawolfwrites.com

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  Also by Julia Wolf

  Run With It

  Cut Short

  Cut Free

  One

  What was that saying? “Live your best life”? Yeah, I definitely wasn’t doing that.

  I was in survival mode. I had been for the last six months. The only way I stayed somewhat sane was through order, lists, and routine. Everyday was the same: out of bed at 6:00am, run, piano, work, in bed by 10:00pm.

  Today my routine was thrown out of whack from the second I opened my eyes. For no reason at all, my alarm didn’t go off, so I woke up late. Then the shoelace on my sneaker broke, so I
had to wear an old, beat up pair. When I finally made it out the door to start my run, thunder boomed. I ignored it though; I wasn’t afraid of a little rain if it meant I could still get my run in.

  I jogged down the hilly historic Main Street I lived on. It was deserted this early in the morning, but soon it would come alive with business owners opening their antique shops and art galleries and shoppers going in and out of each store.

  I turned down a narrow side street that led to the paved trail I always ran on. Here there were finally other people. I saw a lot of the same faces everyday and I liked to imagine some of them were like me: recovering from a major upheaval by taking control of their lives through order and routine.

  I picked up my pace when there was another crash of thunder. Today’s goal had been ten miles, but I mentally cut it down to seven because of my late start. I was a much nicer person after a really long run but seven miles would have to do today.

  I’d been running since I was a teenager, but I had never become one of those people that loved it. To me running was necessary. So even though my legs burned and my lungs strained behind the walls of my chest, I pushed past it all. As much as it hurt, my body and my mind craved it. I could shut out all the maelstrom of thoughts and worries that churned in my brain the rest of the day.

  By the time I’d circled back to Main Street again it had started raining, so even though my legs were telling me they were done, I sprinted up the hill to my building. I ran up the metal steps to my door and once I was inside, I dripped on my welcome mat for a moment before I slid into my bathroom to take a shower. If I hurried, I could get back on schedule and have my full hour at Abe’s Music Shop to play piano.