He held down the shutter. The flash went off, then there was the whirring and the printing. He gently laid the camera on the floor, then wrapped himself around her while she held the tiny picture in her fingers. They waited while it developed.
“I thought of it,” she suddenly whispered.
“Thought of what?” he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder. The white piece of film was darkening. Shapes and colors were starting to bleed through.
“My next tattoo. Your perfect words,” she breathed. He took the picture from her and held it up closer to his face.
“And they are?” he asked, watching as they came into focus. It was actually a tasteful shot, from her chest up. They were both clearly topless, but her cleavage wasn't even visible. Their arms blocked it.
More than that, it was their faces that stole the show. Jon was looking down, a piece of hair curling over his forehead, and he was staring at their hands. At her ring. Delaney was looking up, her eyes locked on him. So big and blue and beautiful.
“Muscle memory,” she said. “You always said it's what brought you back to me. How you could feel me in your skin and your bones and your muscles. That they remembered me, even when your brain couldn't.”
“It is perfect,” he agreed, then he tossed the photo to the floor and bent his head down to kiss her cheek. “Now let's make some new memories with our muscles.”
She laughed, then moaned when he gently rolled them around so she was under him. His foot hit an outlet, knocking out a plug, and all the Christmas lights suddenly went out. She gave a throaty laugh and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I know who you are, Jon Doherty. Even in the dark.”
He took a deep breath.
“You can call me Jay.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Okay.
I wrote a contemporary romance primarily from a male point of view.
That's a first for me!
I spend a lot of time in Oregon. My family is from there, my dad lives there, it's my second home. I just really enjoy it there. We were visiting there in the summer of 2017 and driving to the coast. I love to drive, and somewhere along the highway, I found myself thinking about the movie Cast Away and how – SPOILER ALERT – at the end, Helen Hunt has to choose between Tom Hanks, the man she thought was dead, and her husband, the man she married after Hanks went missing. And like, how hard would that choice be!? Like what would I do in that situation?
My brain, man.
Somehow, that got turned into me thinking about what if it happened to someone with amnesia. Like you bump your head, lose your memories, go off and have a life and get married and have kids, and then BAM, realize you've got a whole other life somewhere! How do you choose between the two? Which led me to wondering what DOES happen to amnesiacs? I guessed they were given new identities and whatnot.
Thanks to Google, I now know that's not what happens at all – it's assumed someone with amnesia obviously already has an identity, so of course they can't just be given a new one. This has literally happened to people before, I read about a man with amnesia who became homeless after being released from the hospital because he couldn't get a social security number.
Then I came home and played around with the Kanes for a while and refused to work on my actual WIP. The amnesia stuff came back to me, wondering what would happen if you had to choose, so I opened a new word document and started typing.
FOUR DAYS LATER I had written roughly 80,000 words. This is generally not possible. Nor is it smart, sane, or recommended. I didn't shower, barely ate, only left my bed to go sit on the couch and type.
Now, I don't know why my brain works this way. I wish it didn't. Some authors can plunk out 2,000 words a day solid – I would much prefer that way of working. Some authors only produce one or two books a year, and work on them for months and months. That would be nice, too. But this is the way my brain works, my creativity. And I have learned to trust it and go with it.
I don't know where this story came from, Jon was barely a thought in my brain when I opened the document, but he just spilled out of me. I've never written a book in a such a manic frenzy, not even Degradation. I am exceptionally proud of this story and its characters, and though I almost always prefer dark or strange books, this is one is easily among my favorites of mine.
LOTS of thanks! Everything around this book was a frenzy, including releasing it. Within an hour of emailing them a panicked “help I need to release this yesterday!” message, Give Me Books had a sign-up form drafted and sent out in their newsletter. How amazing is that? I know bloggers are busy and overwhelmed and worked hard, so it's really impressive and a true judge of their character that they would do that for me. Please follow them because they are true angels.
Najla from Najla Qamber Designs informed me this is our FOURTEENTH cover together! Count 'em – that's every single one of my covers (including one y'all haven't seen yet). I told her I'm excited for the next fourteen, and I can't imagine anyone else transforming my crazy ideas into works of art. She does it flawlessly and with a great attitude. Thanks for all the beauty!
Graphics by Erika for squeezing me in and doing emergency professional teasers for me, you saved me! And Liz Milner for making teasers just because that's what she does, and they're always beautiful.
Of course Champagne Book Designs, for dealing with my crazy date-changing-ass and squeezing me in and making the insides of my books as beautiful as the outside. I'm excited for their next adventure!
As always, Ratula Roy – the alpha and the omega reader. This bitch reads almost a book a day for her blog, and yet STILL fits in my junk, even when it's just basically drivel on paper. Encourages me and listens to me and laughs with me and talks shit with me and generally makes life a much better place.
Barbara Shane Hoover, for all the red marks and notes, and pointing out how I keep writing random things backwards. Why do I do that!?
ALL my beta readers, and there were a lot this time! I'm always adding new people, always wanting new and fresh opinions, and I thank each and every one for their help with this novel – Jennifer, Nanci, Paige, Teri, Deanna, Pam, Amy, Rebecca, Andrea, Lindsay, Reanell, Brittany, Jessica, Chandris, and Bex (say all that ten times fast!). I went through every single email, every single note you all sent. Thanks so much for helping make this story the best it could be.
Thank you to all the blogs that read and left reviews and shared for me. Thank you for promoting and taking time out of your busy reading schedules to fit me in and give this story a chance. Thank you for persevering in a community that doesn't seem to know which direction it's headed in from one day to the next.
Thank you to all my readers, especially the ones who've been with me since the beginning. What a crazy ride! Sometimes, I wish I could write in one genre. I wish I could control what I want to work on. I wish I could always give you something different and edgy and epic and mind blowing. But most of all, I wish I could always write what you want to read. I hope I continue doing that, and I hope you continue reading. We'll always have each other, and I'm so grateful for all of you.
Thanks to my friends. For putting up with my bad communication skills and sometimes worse attitude. For my hermit ways and how much I resist doing anything ... pretty much ever. For laughing and being dorks and traveling long distances to see each other.
And of course, thank you Mr. F. For getting me special glasses so I could type for four days straight. For reminding me to eat, and for literally making me shower. For letting me stare dead eyed into a computer and ignore the whole word. And most of all, for understanding that it's just the way I am, and letting me be me.
Oh, and for helping me take that stupid boot on and off for a month straight.
And letting the dogs out because it hurt to walk downstairs.
You're the best.
SOUNDTRACK
Songs that I listened to while writing, songs that made me think of the story, and a couple that inspired actual scenes.
<
br /> Gotye – Somebody That I Used to Know (ft. Kimbra)
Fun. – We are Young (ft. Janelle Monae)
Julia Michaels – Issues
Kid Cudi – Up, Up, and Away
Jason Mraz – I Won't Give Up
Borns – Electric Love
The Weeknd – I Can't Feel My Face
Halsey - Colors
Tori Amos – A Sorta Fairy Tale
Miley Cyrus – Jolene
Linkin Park – Heavy (ft. Kiiara)
Chase Holfedler – Kiss The Girl (minor key remix)
Rihanna – Stay (ft. Mikky Ekko)
Zedd – Stay (ft. Alessia Cara)
Meghan Trainor – Like I'm Gonna Lose you (ft. John Legend)
MORE FROM THE AUTHOR
THE KANE TRILOGY
"... thanks to Stylo for getting me lost, breaking the rules, and "going there". This was fresh and dark ..." - Penelope Douglas, NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author of the Fall Away series and Corrupt
Degradation
Separation
Reparation
Completion
Reception
STANDALONES
"I could not fault one moment of this story, I devoured every word and every beautiful depraved page. Days later I am still thinking about it and I know that it will be one of those books that will be etched into my soul, I honestly loved it that much." - I Love Book Love blog
The Bad Ones
My Time in the Affair
Just a Little Junk
THE MERCENARIES
Best Laid Plans
Out of Plans
The Mercenaries: Boxset
TWIN ESTATES NOVELS
"... only one author I know continues to blow my ever-loving mind with the sheer gutsiness and uniqueness of her stories ... Stylo Fantôme continues to write with such intelligence and verve ... once again, she delivers with a book that is hot sexy escapism at its finest." - Natasha is a Book Junkie
Neighbors
The Neighborhood
The Kane Series Excerpt
DEGRADATION
Available Now
Tatum plucked at her shirt in a nervous manner. She had tucked it into a tight pencil skirt and even put on a pair of sling back stilettos. If someone had personally requested her, she wanted to make an effort to look nice. She had blown out her hair and put curls in the ends, and toned down her make up. Even she had to admit it, she looked presentable.
For once.
Men in expensive business suits began to file into the conference room and she stood still, giving a polite smile to everyone who entered. A team of lawyers was meeting with their client. Six chairs were lined up on one side of a long table, with just a single chair on the other side.
Tate had been positioned at the back of the room, next to a sideboard filled with goodies and coffee and water. She fussed about, straightening napkins and setting up the glasses. When all six chairs were filled on the one side, she stared at their backs, wondering who the big shot was that got to stare them all down. The person who would be facing her. A door at the back of the room swung open and her breath caught in her threat.
Holy. Shit.
Jameson Kane strode into the room, only offering a curt smile to his lawyers. His eyes flashed to her for just a second, then he looked back. His smile became genuine and he tipped his head towards her, almost like a bow.
She gaped back at him, positive that her mouth was hanging open. What was he doing there!? Had he known she would be there? Had he been the one to request her? Impossible, he didn't know what temp agency she worked for – but what would be the chances? She hadn't seen him in seven years, and now twice in two days.
Tate felt like swallowing her tongue.
“Gentlemen,” Jameson began, seating himself across from the lawyers. “Thanks for meeting with me today. Would anyone care for any coffee? Water? The lovely Ms. O'Shea will be helping us today.” He gestured towards Tate, but no one turned around. Several people asked for coffee. Jameson asked for water, his smile still in place. It was almost a smirk. Like he knew something she didn't.
She began to grind her teeth.
She delivered everyone's drinks, then carried around a tray of snacks. No one took anything. She moved to the back of the room, refilled the water pitcher. Tidied up. Felt Jameson staring at her.
This is ridiculous. You're Tatum O'Shea. You eat boys for breakfast.
But thinking that made her remember when he had said something very similar to her, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.
She was pretty much ignored the whole time. They all argued back and forth about what business decisions Jameson should, or shouldn't, make. He was very keen on dismantling struggling companies and selling them off. They tried to curb his desires. His tax lawyer explained how his tax shelter in Hong Kong was doing. Another lawyer gave him a run down on property law in Switzerland. Tate tried to hide her yawns.
They took a five minute break after an hour had passed. Tate had her back to the room, rearranging some muffins on a tray, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck start to stand up. She turned around in slow motion, taking in Jameson as he walked up to her.
“Surprised?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“Very. Did you ask for me?” she questioned. He nodded.
“Yes. You ran away so quickly the other night. I wanted to get reacquainted,” he explained. She laughed.
“Maybe I didn't,” she responded. He shrugged.
“That doesn't really matter to me. What are you doing tonight?” he asked. She was a little caught off guard.
“Are you asking me out, Kane?” she blurted out. He threw back his head and laughed.
“Oh god, still a little girl. No. I don't ask people out. I was asking what you were doing tonight,” Jameson replied.
She willed away the blush she felt coming on. He still had the ability to make her feel so stupid. She had been through so much since him, come so far with her esteem and her life. It wasn't fair that he could still make her feel so small. She wanted to return the favor. She cleared her throat.
“I'm working.”
“Where?”
“At a bar.”
“What bar?”
“A bar you don't know.”
“And tomorrow night?”
“Busy.”
“And the night after that?”
“Every night after that,” Tate informed him, crossing her arms. He narrowed his eyes, but continued smiling.
“Surely you can find some time to meet up with an old friend,” he said. She shook her head.
“We were never friends, Kane,” she pointed out. He laughed.
“Then what is it? Are you scared of me? Scared I'll eat you alive?” he asked. She stepped closer to him, refusing to be intimidated.
“I think you're the one who should be scared. You don't know me, Kane. You never did. And you never will,” she whispered. Jameson leaned down so his lips were almost against her ear.
“I know what you feel like from the inside. That's good enough for me,” he whispered back. Tate stepped away. She felt like she couldn't breathe. He did something to her insides.
“You, and a lot of other people. You're not as big a deal as you think,” she taunted. It was a complete lie, but she had to get the upper hand back. He smirked at her.
“That sounds like a challenge to me. I have to defend my honor,” he warned her. She snorted.
“Whatever. Point to the challenger then, me. Defend away,” she responded, rolling her eyes.
He didn't respond, just continued smirking down at her. The lawyers began filing back into the room and Jameson took his position on the other side of the table. She wasn't really sure what their little spar had been about, or what had come out of it. She was just going to try to get through the rest of the conference, and then she would scurry away before he could talk to her again. She didn't want anything to do wit
h Jameson Kane, or his -,
“Ms. O'Shea,” his sharp voice interrupted her thoughts. Tate lifted her head.
“Yes, sir?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice soft and polite.
“Could you bring me some water, and something to eat,” he asked, not even bothering to look at her as he flipped through a contract.
She loaded up a tray with his requests and made her way around the table. No one even looked at her, they just threw legal jargon around at each other – a language she didn't know. She stood next to Jameson and leaned forward, setting his water down and then going about arranging cheese and crackers on a plate for him. She was about halfway done when she felt it.
Are those ... his fingers!?
Tate froze for a second. His touch was light as he ran his fingers up and down between her legs. She glanced down at her knees and then glanced over at him. He was still looking down, but she could see him smirking. She tried to ignore him, tried to go back to setting up his food, but his hand went higher. Daring to brush up past her knees, well underneath her skirt. He couldn't get any farther, not unless he pushed up her skirt, or sunk down in his chair. She dumped the rest of the cheese on his plate and started to scoot away. She had just gotten back to her station when she heard a thunking noise, followed by groans.
“No worries. Ms. O'Shea! So sorry, could you get this?” Jameson's voice was bored sounding.
She turned around and saw that he had knocked over his water glass. He was blotting at the liquid as it spread across the table. The lawyers were all holding their papers aloft, grumbling back and forth.
Tate groaned and grabbed a towel before striding back to the table. She glared at him the whole way, but he still refused to look at her. She started as far away from him as she could get, mopping everything up, but eventually she had to almost lean across him to reach the mess. She stood on her toes, stretching across the table top.
As she had assumed it would, his hand found its way back to her legs. Only this time he wasn't shy, and her position allowed for a lot of access. His hand shot straight up the back of her skirt, his fingertips brushing against the lace of her panties.
Muscle Memory Page 25
