Well I’ve been tap, tap, tapping away at trying to finish the third book in the Goddess Chosen series after the evil, evil cliff hanger I left all of you lovely people with. While simultaneously trying to finish my newest book Fire and Ice (no description at present because I could just change my mind and don’t want to disappoint). Just doing my thing and letting the prose flow until a vicious and vile cold has left me practically incapacitated (yes I’m dramatic but go with me).

The worst part is I’m tired during the day but some how the little parasitic bugger that has chosen to house itself in my body utilizes the night to gather rest and to wreck havoc on my immune system in the day, leaving me without the ability to sleep at night.

What does that have to do with us you ask, well it means sad stories because I don’t seem to have the capacity to be creative for anything else. So with out further ado, here is our favorite couple and their unrequited love.

“Mmm…” She moans as I pull away from her mouth.

“You like that?” I whisper against her lips, gently running my tongue against the dewy bottom.

Giggling she pulls me closer and kisses me with the abandon and passion I love. Working my hands through the thick mass of her glorious curls I cup the nap of her neck as I devour her mouth. This game we play, tongues and lips dueling, soft chuckles between kisses, eyes peeking through lowered lashes, it is ours, unique to us, frozen in the time or bodies connecting with one another could only create. I want to touch her, I need to touch her, but I wait. I know that the longer I prolong the inevitable it will only make it better, make it last longer, because I never know when the touching will be again.

“I guess you do like that,” I whisper, squeezing the nap of her neck gently.

“I think you may have to do it again to be sure,” she teases, soft breath brushing against my lips.

This close I can see the rich embers of her dark soulful eyes. The light freckles across her nose and the tiny crinkles at the corner of her mouth. There is a dimple there also. I lean in and kiss it gently, I love that dimple. The way it peeks out when she is pleased, pleased with me. Stroking my thumb against the base of her head I see that dimple peek out to greet me.

Good, it will be my beacon when this is over. When the dark embers of her eyes no longer shine with love and laughter. When the pain of what we create with our stolen moments and kisses becomes too much. When those cute little freckles I love to place small soft kisses upon no longer stand out against skin flush with pleasure but instead anger. When those lines created from smiling at the absurd oddity of our paring are instead creased from frowning because the absurdity is far to real and serves to create a gulf between us. I will have those dimples to think about, waiting to greet me. Welcoming me back into the bosom of her regard.

As I kiss her holding her ever so close I know that whatever displeasure I may cause I will always have some power to please her.