When love bites you in the ass, sometimes all you can do is limp away and take it in.

No matter how much you don’t want something, sometimes fate has other ideas. You could be spurned, horrible so, in love, but the universe will tilt and send a man your way who will not be ignored. 

You can kick and fuss and even cuss him out, but he’ll keep coming back, and if that spark is there – and of course it is, otherwise you wouldn’t be fighting so hard – he will get his way. 

In this unedited snippet from my current WIP, our heroine Charlie is ready to wave the white flag for her hero Hugh.

Enjoy,

Racy

They were together after that. He told her so.

“You’re mine now,” he said, reaching down to help her tie her shoes as they were preparing to go for a walk. Hugh had decided she needed exercise.

“Are you mine too?”

“Of course.”

And that, Charlie thought, was apparently that. Of course she fell in love with him. She was pretty sure it happened before they even had sex. She refused to feel bad about it.

She was young. He was the first man since her father who showed her any kindness. He fucked like a dream, and he protected her without thought. She figured she didn’t have a choice. Loving him was simply the right thing to do.

Besides, it was too late. She’d imprinted on him like a baby bird on a cat. And like the bird, she’d probably end up getting batted around like a chew toy, but she figured that was alright too. She needed the experience, good or bad. She had her art to feed didn’t she? At least time she’d get more good than bad, and she was strong enough to leave when things went south.

Charlie had learned not to deny herself things that felt good. She was no thrill seeker, and she didn’t gorge herself on pleasure. She was too practical for that; too conscious that she didn’t have enough to waste things or behave unwisely.

But when good things happened, when Una came up with one of her good natured, hair brained ideas: Zumba after two margaritas, sledding on garbage can lids, going on a double date with two men they didn’t know and pretending their names were Priti and Johnnie, and that they were from a remote part of Canada “where the accent is kind of southern in a way,” she was down.

But unlike the guys who believed aboot sounded sexy in a West Virginia by way of faux Canada drawl, this guy, her very own hero, him she let in with nary a whimper. Judging by the way he posted up on her couch when they came back from walking, took several calls and worked on his phone, he wasn’t leaving any time soon. And that suited her just fine.

Charlie took off her clothes, put on her smock – in the main room in front of him because that’s what she always did – and began to paint. But she didn’t work on his portrait. That was a secret. Instead she started something new. Something she could already see even before she stretched the canvas on the frame. She would call it love.

She wanted him to see it. Why not? He’d inspired it. She slung paint for hours, completely ignoring him. Something he pointed out with a flat, emotionless face later. He didn’t fool her; she knew pique when she saw it. And she was proud of herself for what came next.

“Don’t get jealous of my work,” she told him coldly. “You’ll lose.”

His mouth quirked and he burst out laughing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling like a shark.

He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb, watching his digit press into the pillowy skin. “Well, you told me. You done yet?”

“For now.”

“You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“I made tacos.”

She raised her brow. That was twice in one day he’d cooked for her. “Cool.”

After they ate she cleaned up the kitchen and went to shower. He was on his phone again, doing whatever it was CEO’s did when they were working remotely. Or he was. As soon as she was under the water he appeared like a big, naked genie to join her.

“Thought you were workin’.”

He took the soap and wash cloth from her. The latter he wrung out and draped over the top of the shower. The former he worked between his hands until he had a rich lather, then he washed her himself.

By the time he’d done her arms and back Charlie was slant-eyed and panting.

“I gotta go home tonight.”

She lifted her heavy head and scowled. “Why?”

“I need clothes, my computer so I can work.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on while she still could. “Are you coming back?”

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