by Laurie Ames
Amanda was hooked up to a few machines and the room was unpleasantly cool. She’d never cared for hospitals. Just as she was waking up, Dylan walked into the room.
“I was gone for five minutes and you woke up!” he said, mocking hurt.
“Sorry,” Amanda said with a smile.
“It’s okay, babe. I’m just so glad that you’re okay,” he said, taking a seat next to her hospital bed.
“So, I guess that’s that, huh?” Amanda said. Now that the curse is broken, what is going to happen?
“We shall see, but yes the curse is over.” Dylan nodded. “But the turf war with the black bears is not over”.
“What’s going to happen to Virgil when he comes back to the spirit bears. Will they accept him?” she wondered out loud.
“I don’t know,” said Dylan. “Only time will tell.”
Amanda remained quiet for a moment. She tried not to think about what damage it might cause to Dylan’s small family if their remaining brother was shunned from their community. Then again, she didn’t know what he was capable of or if he would forever leave the Kodiak life behind. She guessed only time would tell.
“Mind if I get a little closer?” Dylan asked her.
She smiled. “Of course not.”
Dylan lowered the arm of the bed and climbed up on Amanda’s good side, cradling her body. She leaned into his warmth.
“Amanda, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” Dylan said cautiously.
“Sure, anything,” Amanda said.
Dylan cleared his throat as though he was nervous. Amanda couldn’t imagine why. Dylan took her left hand and cradled it. She felt butterflies in her stomach. This couldn’t really be happening. It was far too soon for them to get engaged. She wasn’t ready for something like that. She wasn’t even done with college.
“Don’t worry,” Dylan said with a charming grin. “I’m not asking you to marry me. But I am telling you that one day I will kneel down and pop the question.”
“I would love to one day have the pleasure of saying I’ll marry you,” Amanda said, feeling relieved and overwhelmed by love at the same time.
Amanda settled in to Dylan’s body. He cuddled her as tightly as he could under the present circumstances. She loved every minute of it. They had been through so much and now she wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of her life. She felt her eyelids begin to get heavy. She would be asleep soon. She turned her head so that she was facing him.
“Dylan,” she whispered. He looked at her. “I love you so much,” she said. “I just want you to know that. You’ve been there for me in ways that you’ll never understand. You do it when you don’t even know you’re doing it. You give me so much strength. I thought I’d never carry on after I almost lost my dad, but meeting you was the beginning of a new chapter in my life”. She paused for a moment to grin. “By the way, what will the next chapter of our life be like?”
“Just hang on tight babe. With me, there is never a dull moment”.
Dylan grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her lightly. He leaned in towards her and kissed her forehead. He kissed her cheeks and then her chin. He kissed along her jawline and breathed into her ear, sending pleasure signals straight to her brain. He finally pressed his forehead to hers and looked deep into her eyes.
“I love you more than ever,” he said. He pressed his lips gently against hers, more lightly than he had ever done before. The sensation left her wanting more and knowing that for now, it was more than enough. She just knew that Dylan would be forever.
~The End~
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Holding Faith
A Steamy Interracial Romance
By: Michele Hart
Prologue:
Faith is an attractive, but naïve 30-year old who married Richard when they were both a young and immature 18 years old. Faith figured she would spend the rest of her marriage reading good books with a glass of wine or snuggling with her husband watching TV. She was always sexually prudish and although her and Richard had not had sex for the last few years, she always felt that this was the normal progression of marriage.
Then suddenly after twelve years of marriage and one day after her 30th birthday, Richard announces he is suddenly leaving her. At first Faith is devastated, but after a bit of snooping, she discovers he has a secret life of affairs and mistresses.
This shocking news awakens her sexual desires and she embarks on a journey to find intimate relations again, as well as exact a little bit of revenge…
Chapter one
Faith sat back in the comfy dining chair that her and Richard bought when they'd first moved into the house. She gazed over the three items she'd laid out in front of her; a bottle of white wine, a large slice of birthday cake, and Richard's laptop.
Normally, she didn't drink wine before dinner, she didn't eat more than a small sliver of cake at parties, and she'd never have considered snooping in Richard's laptop. For twelve years, she'd told herself that marriage was built on a mutual sense of trust and respect. She'd told herself that the slow cooling of her marriage was the natural order of things. Women got older, men got older, and if she and Richard shared a mutual desire to have a lovely home and someone to watch TV with, well, wasn’t that normal?
Apparently not. At least, not according to Richard. No, according to the almighty Richard, he wasn't dead yet, and he didn't know when his wife had turned into a cold fish – those had been his actual words, the bastard – but he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life on the sofa cuddling. At least he'd waited until her birthday party was over. That was something, she supposed. Not much, but it was something.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ She knew it was quite pathetic but had to stand and look in the full-length mirror. She leered into the mirror; her hands placed sternly on her hips. ‘Have I lost my looks?’
Faith had always been quite the beauty. Dark hair cascaded down her face covering a sexy dimple. She was of fair complexion with coffee brown eyes that were perfectly trimmed by long gorgeous lashes. Her eyes were somehow gentle, and always held a tiny bit of warmth within. Florid cheeks and flawlessly sculpted lips were set together on a delicate almost, angelic face.
It helped to see herself up close in the mirror. Then she remembered how often she still gets admiring gazes from young men. ‘No, I still have it,’ she told herself.
Faith sat down again and poured herself a glass of the Chardonnay, took a sip, and flinched at the taste. Other people talked about bouquet and legs and whatever else with wine, but all she could taste was sour grapes. Her fingers clenched the glass, and she forced herself to set it down before she snapped the delicate stem in her hand.
Twelve years. Twelve years of supporting him, and working with him, and putting his career before hers, even though her mother had told her it didn't have to be like that anymore. Faith sneered at her own mother, insisting she wasn't one of those women. God, how could she have been so naïve?
The delicious chocolate cake she'd ordered from her favorite bakery turned on her tongue and she thought she might be sick. She slid back from the table, placed her head between her knees. She took a deep breath. She wanted to shout, have a tantrum and beat her hands on the ground like a toddler. She started pushing back tears that were streaking down her face. It felt good to vent, to let it all out.
When she had herself back under control, she stood. She picked up the bottle of wine and the delicate crystal glass that Richard had picked out. She carried them both into the kitchen. More than anything, she wanted to smash the glass in the sink and indulge in a primal scream, but that wouldn't actually change anything. She set the glass down carefully, then up ended the bottle of Chardonnay into the sink. The glug of the liquid was strangely pleasant. With that horrible drink gone, she thought perhaps she could enjoy her birthday.
On the way back to the dining room, she passed Richard's sideboard. He'd amassed quite a collection of bourbon over the year
s and had been able to talk extensively about the aging techniques and barrels and flavors. As a girl, she'd loved bourbon, loved that smoky bite of amber liquid on her tongue. But drinking wine was the feminine thing to do, the upper-class thing to do, and Richard had wanted nothing so much as to be upper-class. She'd been devoted to giving him what he wanted.
Her fingers shook as she poured herself a glass of bourbon, neat. Raising it to her lips made her body tremble a little bit. But the sweet-sour bite on her tongue was worth it. She was never one to drink to excess and soon felt a slight giddiness from the bourbon. She could feel her warmth rising, changing her inner storm to something like a soothing breeze.
“Why am I so mad at myself? I have always done good things; I have a heart full of love and there is still a world full of good people out there. Richard is the problem, not me.”
She went back to her cake, and to the laptop. Richard had taken a full suitcase with him, carrying everything he considered deeply important. She would have let him take more. It was her money that had funded both their educations, kept him afloat until his career as an entrepreneur finally began to gain some traction, but she'd never particularly thought of it as hers. Not until he screamed at her that she lorded it over him.
She pushed up the laptop's screen and typed in Richard's password without hesitation. She'd known it as long as he had the laptop; he'd insisted on her knowing it. In fact, she'd just refused to use it.
Was it meant to be an invitation? Did he want to share something with her, and she'd simply misunderstood all these years? In a strange way, that would be an easier thing to find, rather than him just being tired of her.
Her heart pulsed with – something, she wasn't entirely sure what – as she stared at the screen. Either Richard had closed it in the middle of an activity, or he'd left it open specifically for her to find. The browser was open in front of her, and the website was on some sort of, well, filthy dating website. It suggested that people were looking for relationships, one-night stands and kinky types of sex. Based on the pictures that were filling the screen in front of her, these people were looking for something more elemental than a casual date. Something deep inside of her stirred, twisted, and broke apart.
She and Richard had stopped having sex a few years ago. She couldn't now remember exactly who had called it quits. She thought it was him when he started to take longer and longer to orgasm, and she was sure he'd blame it on her. But really, the truth was that they'd stopped paying any attention to each other. The sex was perfunctory, and boring. She'd left it behind gladly, because it felt like an obligation. Not a need and certainly not any kind of passion.
She eyed the glass of bourbon. She'd added three or four fingers to the glass, and there was barely any left now. Was that responsible for the heat that was spinning through her body? Or was it something entirely else? Was it the sensual bodies that flared over the screen, splendid in their perfection? She saw women he'd been contacting, talking to and engaging. At least twice as she clicked through, she saw that he had been meeting these women in person. One woman was talking about how naughty he'd been, for fucking her on his wife's side of the bed. She expected to feel anger. Disgust. Fury. But what was spinning through her now was something much closer to – desire. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but it wasn't unpleasant. No, not in the least.
‘Ummm, maybe just one more glass.’
Chapter Two
A knock at the door jolted her out of her ponderings. She snapped the laptop closed and stood, finding that she swayed a little uneasy on her feet. She was still wearing the heels from teaching class earlier in the day; she stepped out of them and went to the door. Her lacy bra was exposed above the low-cut line of her top, which appeared to have a trace of bourbon spilled down the front. She staggered uneasily, feeling like an inebriated tramp, gripping at least once at the bookcase.
Through the window by the door, she saw a tall slim man, his back turned to the house. She recognized him easily, though; Jackson was one of Richard 's partners. He was about the same age as Richard and had worked much harder than Richard for the firm's success. The number of times Richard came home saying that Jackson was taking care of some big emergency had infuriated her. If Jackson disagreed about a business issue, Richard would come home after work, telling Faith, and begin using racial slurs as a reason for their differences. She always loathed Richard when he spoke that way. She always thought the world of Jackson for whom he was, a hardworking upstanding man and nothing less.
But it would have been a lie to pretend there hadn't been something with Jackson that drew her attention. He had always watched her carefully, almost hungrily, the way a person watched someone they desired. She would always blush whenever he looked her way but would put her thoughts aside because she was a happily married woman. Now, it turns out her husband has been carrying on multiple affairs with various women, and maybe she doesn't need to be so damn prudish anymore.
She opened the door, and Jackson turned quickly at the sound. Offhand, Faith wasn't sure if it was the shock of Richard leaving, the heat generated by images she'd seen on the computer, or sheer loneliness coming to the forefront, but she couldn't help notice what a handsome man he was. His eyes were a warmer brown than she remembered, but still incredibly deep, and he had a smattering of freckles over his dark nose and cheeks. His skin was a light brown, and the contrast between his darkness and her pale tan was striking as she took the hand he extended. It was less a handshake, and more of a quick and comforting grip between friends.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Desaultels," he said.
She started shaking her head "Jackson, I've always been Faith to you. There's no need to change that now." She released Jackson's hand, trying not to notice the little thrill that ran through her at the warmth of his touch. She stepped back so he could walk past into the house.
He hesitated for just a moment. His voice still contained a touch of the London accent he'd picked up during his education. She adored the way he looked at her from under his eyelashes when he said, "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," she said. It felt like someone had broken a chemical glow stick inside her torso, and heat was spreading through her as desire and opportunity combined into a glowing, heady mix.
"I feel like I'm here under false pretenses," he said, running his hand through the soft waves of his dark hair. "Richard asked me to get some of his things that he forgot. But quite frankly, Faith, if it were up to me, I'd throw it all on the front lawn and help you light a bonfire. Richard has no right to treat you that way, and I've been disgusted with him for-"
He broke off, his eyes darting to the side, and Faith felt something sad loosen within her. "The affairs, you mean?"
Jackson looked at her, but he didn't say a word.
"How long have they been going on?"
He shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together.
"Please. I need to know."
"Too long," he said. "That's all. Too long."
"And you knew?"
He shrugged. "Richard did nothing to hide them. At first, he told us all that you'd agreed to an open relationship, and then when that became patently untrue – well, none of us quite knew what to say. To him or to you."
Puzzle pieces clicked together in her mind. "Is that why you watch me like you do?"
Those dark eyes turned to her, and Faith was quite sure she wasn't imagining the hunger in him. He had it walled far away, but it wasn't gone.
"You thought that, if Richard and I had agreed to an arrangement, that you and I might…"
Jackson shook his head fiercely. "I never," he said. "A man like me is not allowed to desire a woman like you, especially not his partner's wife. The consequences-"
Yes. She'd never thought about it like that. Richard had the opportunity to ruin him. She'd been wrong to think she could use him that way and ask him to wake something within her. "Of course," she said. "I'm sorry."
She turned away, and her knees were just a bit unstea
dy again. She forced herself to walk, heading into the big dining room where she'd left the laptop. She took another long sip of whiskey and tried to breathe.
For the first time since Richard had left, she felt tears burning at her eyes. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, focusing on the colors that sparked there, willing the sadness away. It was all right. This wasn't some do or die moment. If she chose to reclaim this aspect of herself, she could do it. She didn't need to hurt someone else to get what she wanted.
She sensed him, walking up close behind her. He was standing there, so close that she could feel his heat against her back, but he didn't touch her. "I'm the one that’s sorry," he murmured, "Don't you be sorry."
There was a pin-drop silence. She wondered how that’s remotely possible with her heart somersaulting and Jackson standing dangerously beside her. She lifted her hands from the table and turned. Jackson was up so close that the tips of her breasts were brushing against his well pressed shirt. Looking at him made her forget she wasn't a girl anymore. "I don't want either of us to be sorry," she said.
He didn't move. "What do you want, Faith?"
She ordered herself to take a leap, even if it was terrifying. Her heart thumped so hard that she swore it was audible. Her knees went weak. There were butterflies but it felt good.
