Last night Aaron and I made spinach pie together, and he surprised me with a bottle of Sah Tea, a super yummy beer from Dogfish Head, which we love. We watched episodes of Remington Steele while we ate. Our spinach pie turned out very well. Aaron did a fabulous job at brushing the phyllo dough with oil, unlike me. I kept ripping it. Anyway, it was delicious, so I hope all of your Valentine’s Day celebrations go as nicely.
I wanted to have Little Sister, my vampire novella, ready to purchase for Valentine’s Day, but alas, that did not happen. (Smashwords has gotten crazy busy with their queue. I’m behind 1800 other people currently. Ugh.) It will probably be ready for tomorrow. In the meantime, here’s a teaser scene for you to whet your appetite with:
Bailey grinned. “Lay back. I want you to see what’s written on the ceiling.”
I did, realizing that I was lying down on a bed next to him. We were so close. I looked into his green, green eyes. He pointed up, and I shifted my gaze. On the ceiling, someone had spray painted, “Thy eternal summer shall not fade.”
“Cool, huh?” he said.
“It’s Shakespeare, isn’t it?” I looked at him.
“I don’t know.” He smiled at me, and his eyes lit up. Jesus, he was beautiful.
“I think it is. It’s a sonnet. We studied it in English this year.” I looked back at the ceiling. “Shakespeare thought he could immortalize his lover in verse.”
“Immortalize?”
I turned back to him. “Yeah, you know, make her live forever.” Of course, my teacher had said that the scholars were pretty sure Shakespeare had written that poem to a man. Danny was convinced that meant Shakespeare was actually gay. I didn’t know what to think.
“Living forever would be cool,” said Bailey. “If you could be sure that you’d really still be alive and still feel things. If you could be sure that you wouldn’t somehow become hollow inside.”
“Hell,” I said. “I’m alive. And I still feel hollow inside.”
“No,” he said. “No, you’re not hollow. You’re electric.” He reached over and stroked my cheek.
His touch was feather soft, but his fingers were cold.
He sighed. “When I touch you, I feel it. You can’t know how powerful it is.”
If I told someone he’d said that later, it would sound cheesy. It would sound like a stupid line. But right then, at that moment, it just made my heart thud against my rib cage. It was perfect. Hesitantly, I touched his cheek too.
His hand went behind my head, tugging me closer to him. “God,” he murmured. “I feel like I’m on fire.”
And then he pressed his lips against mine. His lips were cold too, like his hands, but they felt like a refreshing, cool breeze on a hot summer day. They moved against mine, and I opened my mouth to his tongue.
Bailey’s hand slid down my back, pulling my body against his.
The length of him was solid and cool. Every place that our bodies touched, I felt a relaxing, sweet feeling seep into me. I felt deliciously sleepy, a pleasure that pulled at me, like I was being pulled deeper into a cold spring. It tingled. It was wonderful.
Bailey’s mouth left my lips to explore my jaw and neck. Shivers ran through my body. A small moan escaped my lips. It felt so nice, so wonderful, almost the way the music had felt before. Like I was being swallowed, lost, sucked down, down, down into pleasant, cool drowsiness.
Abruptly, Bailey shoved me away from him. He was on his feet, on the other side of the room. It seemed like he’d moved so fast. I sat up slowly on the bed. My whole body felt heavy. “What happened?”
He sucked in air audibly. “This is wrong.”
