Let Me Say Goodbye
Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Jojo Brown
Word Count :13000
Publication Date :2010-11-29
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-55487-325-8
Till death do you part... and beyond.
Grace’s love for Simon was total, un-ending, all consuming. They had made vows to one another, ‘for better or worse, ‘till death do we part’ type of vows. She knew everything there was to know about him and loved it all, but did she love him enough to say good-bye?
I spotted him the moment I walked into the place. I knew he’d be there; it was Friday night and he always stopped in for a few drinks on Friday night.
The fine cut of his camel hair coat, where it lay across his wide, muscular shoulders whispered promises of strength and stability. The soft, thick material hung in warm inviting folds, where he had it pushed back; a hand plunged deeply into the front pocket of the black pants, snuggling his thighs. The hand looked to have a life of its own. Like a small animal, burrowing deeply into the warmth of its bedding, to hide from the coldness of the world. With the slightest detour to the left, his long fingers could easily rub against the hidden treasure lying in the depths of those trousers.
I watched the path of that hand’s travels, feeling an odd sense of jealousy that they weren’t my fingers searching blindly within that darkness. I know, without a shadow of a doubt that I would take that detour, with no second thoughts or hesitations. Just the idea of the touch, ignited a small flame in the pit of my stomach. I had to squeeze my thighs together, press the flat of my hand against my tummy and take a deep breath, just to hold myself back.
As I stood there watching, hoping to see a telltale movement across the front of his pants, his hidden hand ignored the temptation of the bulge, so close by and delved to the bottom of the pocket. Finding the loose change gathered there, he began absently jingling it all together. The fingers opened and closed repeatedly like a five-toothed metal-eating mouth. The unconscious motion spoke volumes of his disinterest in the conversation he was having with the man in the black trench coat beside him. He was bored, worried or perhaps preoccupied. Whatever the cause, that simple act, one that I had witnessed many times, made him all the more attractive and sensual.