Touched by Death
Page 32
As if sensing my fear, his hands come up to cradle my face. He pulls me in closer, deepening the kiss, and as he does his movements slow into a lazy exploration of me. Every stroke of his tongue speaks straight to my soul. He tells me with his kiss that this is as real as our beating hearts, and I don’t have to be afraid. He tells me to never let go, because now, we will never have to. That last thought echoes in my mind like the reflection of a thousand mirrors staring back at me.
I don’t have to let go.
A fresh wave of desperation floods me, filling me with the urgent need to close any gap between us. I shift until I’m straddling him, careful to avoid touching his wound, and he groans into my mouth, his hands gripping my hair.
When I grind against him, he growls and places both hands on my hips, halting the movement completely. He’s panting, trying to slow his breathing. “No.”
I frown, my eyes dropping to the bulge beneath the thin blanket. “Why?” Clearly his mouth and his body need to get on the same page.
He chuckles softly as he notices where my gaze has strayed, the low sound vibrating through his chest and making my lips curve. God, that laugh. Still the best sound I’ve ever heard.
“Why?” His voice trails off, his hand stroking the side of my face. “Because you’re finally mine, Lou. And the first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is show you exactly how it feels to be mine.”
Epilogue
There are things in this world, and others, I may never come to understand. Unsolved mysteries of disappearing bodies, deaths without a cause, and being taken while a thread of life still survives within you. Then there are those things I wish I never came to understand quite so intimately. What it feels like to have the life sucked out of you, to know a darkness that whispers dangerous secrets in your ear, and to see innocent lives crushed at the hands of a little thing called a glitch.
I could choose to get lost in my endless questions, to devote myself to a quest for answers. But I’ve touched on that path before, reached the brink of obsession, and right now, I don’t have plans to go back.
What I do have is my life. I have a heart that beats strong and steady every day and every night. I have choices. I have love. Friendship. Mistakes to make and lessons to learn. Sunlight on my back and a breeze in my hair. A fire running through my veins that reminds me who I am.
Right now, what I have, is the warm brush of a sigh against my neck. The soft graze of lips trailing kisses down my stomach. The feel of strong fingers gently digging into my hips. And the only whispers I’ll ever want being poured into my ear.
When he pulls my hand up to his chest, allowing me to feel the rapid thumping of his heart, he leans down, pressing his cheek to mine. “Do you feel what you do to me?”
My lips pull into the smile they never seem to stray far from these days, and I turn so my breath strokes his skin. “Are you saying your heart beats for me, Gumdrop?”
A shudder runs through his body, soaking in the question he’s heard from me once before. His lashes tickle my cheek as he closes his eyes. “I’m saying that and more, Lou,” he groans, before shifting his head and kissing my neck, deep and hard. “So much fucking more.”
Acknowledgments
To you, the reader: Sometimes all we need is that one person willing to spend a little time in our minds, share a little piece of our hearts, and breathe a little life into our words. You single handedly have turned Lou’s journey into something tangible, something colorful enough to dance in, and for every moment spent within these pages, you’ve made my heart that much fuller.
For that, I can’t thank you enough.
To my husband, Michael: For every date-night you sacrificed so I could dedicate our rare kid-free evenings to writing another chapter. For each extra diaper you changed while I edited “just one more line.” For every night you caught me writing at three in the morning while the kids were asleep, and you reminded me that moms need sleep, too . . . thank you. I’m so lucky to have you, and I love you.
To my three little munchkins: I know you’re too young to understand this in its entirety right now, but you are my world, my life, my loves. Your smiles are my fuel. Your tiny arms wrapping around my waist is my caffeine. Your soft lips pressing against my cheek as you whisper silly secrets in my ear is the strongest force that keeps me going. As Lou and her love would say, my heart beats for you.
Endless thanks to my proofreaders, Grace Li and Katrina Teele Fair, as well as those who read my manuscript in its roughest forms and helped to make it shine. You were each so wonderful to work with, and I couldn’t value your time or your feedback more.
Samantha Armstrong and Danielle Mathison—I never knew going into this that I’d find such amazing friends in the writing world. Not only are you both wonderful writers and inspirations to me in your craft alone, but your constant support, putting up with my millions of emails, and never failing to help me in a time of need is call for more thanks than I can ever give.
To my incredible and patient editor Sarah Collingwood, I’m beyond grateful I stumbled upon you so early in my writing journey. I’m sure you know you’re stuck with me now. ;)
To my full-service team at The Killion Group, Inc., you guys are simply amazing to work with. The best. I’ll never stop recommending your services.
Final note to readers: Please take a second to share your thoughts with a rating/review on Goodreads/Amazon! I make sure to read each review posted, and I’d love to see yours! Another way you could melt my heart and bring the biggest smile to my face is by sharing your thoughts/pics of the book on your social media sites. <3
Thanks again, and happy reading. :)
About the Author
T.L. Martin is an author of both young adult and new adult titles. The paranormal romance Touched by Death is her first published work for adults. She’s presently branching out into new adult contemporary romance, and is loving every second of it!
Also a wife and stay-at-home mother to three young children, she spends her days tripping over Legos, pretending she can cook, and collecting food stains on her clothes. As glamorous a life it is, it’s the wee hours of the night she dedicates to writing.
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