“Is this your version of a pep talk?”
“Yup. Working for you?”
He smiles, stands, towers over me, and sticks out his hand. “Yup. That works for me.”
I take his hand and tug him into a hug. More or less to cop a feel of these big, strong shoulders, but also ‘cause I’m a people snuggler. And then I step back and slap a hand to his chest. This time, only to cop a feel. Damn, my boy’s built. And yeah, I’m feeling like I’m molesting my guardian angel. But then again, he’s not looking like he minds too awful much.
“Okay. I’m off to bed. I take it I’ll see you in the morning?”
He nods, sticks his hands in his pockets. Bless his heart. “I’ll be here.”
“Umm...” I gesture in the general direction of my room. “I’m gonna be changing my clothes in just a few...” And you know what he does? An honest-to-God blush. And, dammit, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’m... Ahh...” He shifts his weight, looks away. “I won’t be watching. Don’t worry.”
I nod and let him off the hook, ‘cause yeah, my boy’s had a rough night. “Okay, then.” I push on my toes and give him a quick peck on the cheek, not checking his response before I walk away. “G’night.”
I wave over my shoulder, go to my room, get dressed for bed, and crawl in with a sigh. My mind swirls, my thoughts are jumbled, but I know one thing for sure. I’m going to sleep with my very own guardian angel watching over me.
And I’m okay with that.
# # #
Coming Soon…
FIRST HALO ON THE RIGHT
a Heaven Help Me novelette
Now Available…
CONNECTED
a Twists of Fate novella (Book 1)
A rock group’s rhythm guitarist, Rhys Alexander, dies and finds himself bound inside the body of a woman he’s never met. Can she help him move on to the other side, or will he end up finding the love of his life…after his has already ended?
Excerpt:
After a few minutes of digging through her closet, Addison came up with two black dresses. She wanted something simplistic to fit her style, but elegant. Something not too revealing, but feminine; something that would make a man drool but leave enough to the imagination to have him wondering what was hidden underneath.
What are you doing?
“I’m trying to decide which dress to wear.” She chewed on her fingernail as her eyes shifted from one dress to the other.
Wear the one on the right.
Her eyebrows shot up. “You can see them?”
Hell, no. But your inability to make a fucking decision is raking at my nerves.
“So you just picked one at random?”
It’s a decision, isn’t it? It’s not like you’re any closer to one.
She lifted a shoulder in semi-agreement as she eyed the wraparound number on the right.
Worked for her.
She shoved the reject dress back into the closet before she went to dry her hair and throw on some make-up.
Rhys was surprisingly quiet throughout, and then she realized he had closed off their link. Why? She had no idea, but at this point it hardly concerned her. She was just thankful for the quiet.
After fluffing her blonde locks and putting on her face, Addison shrugged out of her robe. She took her time as she picked out some frilly panties and bra—because you just never know—and then wiggled into the dress.
“Oh, boy,” she mumbled, studying herself in the mirror. The dress didn’t leave as much to the imagination as she had hoped. She couldn’t go out like this, could she?
A sly smile crept to her face. Well, maybe…
What’s up, sweetheart?
Aaand the cocky attitude was back.
“Just checking things out. This dress is a bit…revealing. I’m not used to it.”
He chuckled. What? he teased. Can you actually see your knees?
She pulled at the fabric wrapped tight around her chest as her ample breasts kept trying to pop out and say ‘hello,’ and then she tugged fruitlessly at the hem.
“It shows a lot more than that,” she muttered, rethinking if she could leave the house that way or not. After all, it was only a third date, and on top of that, she never truly intended to ever wear that dress; it was a impulse purchase on a day she had felt a helluva lot braver than she did just then.
Jesus, it can’t be that bad. Hell, if any damn flesh is showing, you’d consider it to be too revealing.
“I would not.” Though she probably would.
Don’t get all offended and shit. You showed me your picture, remember? Very proper, very conservative, very non-revealing. I know your type.
“My type. Is that so?” She propped her hands on her hips, her contempt pushing her to prove the stereotyping asshat wrong. “Would you like to see for yourself? Then you can enlighten me with your vast knowledge as to how this dress is too conservative, and fits my type perfectly.”
Snorting a laugh, he encouraged her further. I would love to see your oh-too-sexy dress, sweetheart. Lay it on me. I’ll try to contain myself.
Striking a ridiculously sassy pose that had her giggling, she projected her image from the mirror.
He made a choking sound, and she felt his entire being seize up.
Frustrated, she shut down the image. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
For crissakes, woman, you’re fucking hot in real life! What the hell happened to the prim-and-fucking-proper-working-class girl?!
Suddenly feeling very confident, she tipped her head to the side and studied her image again, being sure Rhys saw it as well.
“I let my hair down, which I’m known to do when I go out. I put in my contacts, which I also do from time-to-time. And I put this on,” she ran her hands down her dress, caressing every curve. “Which, I might add, you picked out. I think you made the right choice, don’t you?” She turned in the mirror, glancing over her shoulder to show the ‘v’ of bare skin slashing down the back.
Addison, baby, you’re killing me. Of all the damn luck; to be stuck in the head of some searing hot babe. He groaned as if in real pain.
She laughed at his dramatics, and closed off the image. “What does it matter what I look like? I’m still me. The irritating woman you fight with constantly.”
Yeah, but before I was getting a rise out of you ‘cause I could.
“And how has that changed?”
His voice shifted low, almost sultry. Now I’m kinda thinking of it as foreplay.
It was her turn to make the choking sound, followed by a wave of heat planting itself firmly in her cheeks. “Oh, please.”
That’s right, baby. Beg.
She couldn’t help but laugh, refusing to take the man seriously. “This is going to be a long night.”
His chuckle joined hers. Count on it.
“You better behave yourself, Rhys.”
To that, he had no response.
About The Author
Jolyn Palliata writes romance for adults and young adults alike, and has dabbled in just about every genre there is (paranormal being her favorite). She lives in the Midwest with her highly patient husband and insanely energetic son. For more information, or to contact Jolyn directly, please visit her website at http://www.JolynPalliata.com or email her at [email protected]. She loves the interaction with her readers!
Heaven Help Me, Or Hell Have Me (Heaven Help Me #1) Page 4