This looks like a normal vacation, right? Especially when you’re a kid. I kind of wish that was this year’s vacation. Maybe next year.
In reality, my vacation is a ‘working vacation’ this time, with some tasks on my to-do list getting checked off–like some of the garden work I needed to do at the boys’ house, and some purging here at our house. I still have more garden work to to do at the boys’, but I am going to wait until it cools down a bit here, like my long weekends in the next two months. Then I can put the gardens to bed before winter gets here. But right now, the Rose of Sharon bushes and my aunt’s butterfly bush are going strong, with bumblebees and butterflies fighting over the best flowers. Frankly, the flowering shrubs make me happy, too.
I have two more days of vacation left. On the last one, I’ve got a trip to the local farmer’s market on the agenda for first thing in the morning, before it gets too crowded or too hot, then I can spend the rest of my last day of vacation working on revisions (again!). Tomorrow, I am aiming to work on another chore from my to-do list in the morning, and then maybe some reading and writing the rest of the day. Break up the work with fun things.
Today was partly chores–we ran up to the boys’ again to clean up the garden and yard debris, and now that I have a bean salad chilling in the fridge, I have a date with some dirty dishes before I sit down with the Sunday paper. Before I go wash dishes, I have a little story snippet to share with you, from Hunting Medusa.
Andi tugged uselessly at her wrist, but his arm didn’t move from his side. “Hey, Harvester.”
The obnoxious grin slid off his face. “Stop calling me that.”
“It’s your name.”
He glared at her, then folded his arms over his chest, dragging hers along and forcing her to half roll toward him again.
She yanked away but he put his other hand over her wrist.
“Go to sleep.”
She shot him a disbelieving glance. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to sleeping in handcuffs. Or with all the lights on. And I’m not tired.” That last sounded rather childish, she admitted to herself, but the man had nerve.
He observed her for a long moment, until she wanted to squirm under his scrutiny. Then another slow grin started at one corner of his mouth, gradually curving his full lower lip all the way to the opposite corner. “I bet I can fix that.”
“I don’t think so.” She leaned as far away as her trapped arm allowed.
He moved fast, flipping her on top of him before she realized his intent.
Andi blinked, then felt her heart pound faster. The Harvester had muscles on his muscles.
Not the best time to be noticing that, perhaps.
She watched him warily as he shifted under her, settled her close, then stretched their cuffed wrists away from their sides. She put her free hand on his shoulder and pushed herself up a little. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you tired.” His other hand slid up her spine to the nape of her neck, where his fingers started massaging the tight muscles.
“Stop it.” She shifted her head to one side, then the other, but his strong fingers continued exactly what they’d been doing. She frowned down at him.
He smiled innocently.
“That doesn’t work for me.” It did feel good, though. Not that she’d tell him.
Kallan’s bright gaze slid down from her eyes to her mouth, almost like an actual touch on her lips.
She swallowed. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late,” he murmured, using his grip at her nape to bring her closer.
Andi sucked in a startled breath when he brushed his mouth along hers. “You’re sick.”
It was his turn to blink. “What?”
“You’re here to kill me, right?”
His brows dipped into a frown.
“You’re not supposed to be…screwing me too.” She blushed.
His frown disappeared. “I’m not trying to screw you. Just kiss you, Andrea.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock.
“Well, that makes it much easier,” he said softly, lifting his head to catch her lips.
His kiss wasn’t what she’d expected. Not that she’d been imagining it. Not really. His lips were warm and soft on hers, not demanding or ruthless—although she was certain he possessed both qualities, and probably far worse, knowing his gene pool. His kiss was more an exploration. A gentle caress.
And for a moment, she decided, she could enjoy it. It had been a very long time since a man had kissed her.
She shivered when he nipped at her lower lip, then heard a soft sound escape her throat when his warm tongue soothed the bitten spot. At her nape, his fingers still moved gently, and the friction sent unexpected heat rushing down her spine and into her belly.
Gods, it had been so long. She leaned into his caress, just a little.
And his kiss shifted into something a lot more demanding.
Hot desire exploded in her middle, reaching out to all her extremities—to her face, tightening her nipples and making her press them into his chest.
The hand she’d had propped on his shoulder slid up to his hair.
She knew this was a really bad idea. The man was an assassin. Her assassin.
But his kiss…
What are you doing on this hot summer Sunday? Chores or something fun? Whatever it is, I hope you’ve had a great weekend, and have an even better new week!
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