When I think about it, The Moment I most adore is when they realize they’ve got something, someone special. It’s not like the other somethings or someones, it’s different, it’s almost an A-HA moment. The realization can happen when H and H are together or apart, but for me it’s that thought… ‘Damn, I can’t let him/her get away. I need to try…’
With that in mind, I’m gonna go grab a snippet from The Swing…
“You’ve been moping around here for days, Cait. What’s wrong?”
Margaret, Caitlyn’s best friend from the womb, or so it seemed, set a mug of hot coffee in front of her. The strong aroma hit her senses, jarring her out of part of her melancholy. “Marc has been gone two years and I fucked his brother on the anniversary, that’s what’s wrong.”
“You’re still hung up on that? You went to see him though. I thought you were over thinking that way.”
Yeah, not so much. “No.”
“Hmm. Was he good?” Margaret’s voice had dropped to a conspiratorial whisper and Caitlyn mustered up a smile.
She could lie and say he was awful, but she wouldn’t. There was no way to make it believable. “He was.” She could still feel him inside her, flooding her sex with his. “I’ve called him at least half a dozen times a day since then to apologize for saying harsh things, for running away, but he’s not answering and he’s not returning my messages. I think I hurt him.”
Margaret took her hand and squeezed. “Then you should go back out there. He can’t very well ignore you if you’re dogging his every step. Besides, Marc wouldn’t want you to be miserable.”
“Even if what made me happy was his own twin?”
“Yes. He wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this, I know that. More importantly, you know that.”
“I loved them both, but I think I loved Jethro more.” She buried her face in the throw pillow she’d been hugging to her chest, groaning at the admission. Maybe she’d just loved them in different ways because they were such different men.
“I think we’ve all known that. They were brothers, but when you and Jethro looked at each other, the air sizzled and crackled. It was like lightning could strike at any moment. It was instantaneous and sharp. With Marc it was soft and sweet and sexy. It’s just flat-out naughty and hot when you look at Jethro.”
She smiled still, but the tears she’d been trying to keep from falling dropped onto her knees. She hadn’t cried over Marc in months, but she cried regularly over Jethro. She had loved Marc, but Margaret was right in confirming what Caitlyn knew to be true. She’d loved Jethro on sight and it was always electric.
“People will whisper.”
“Who cares? Let them whisper. Let them talk. All that matters is you and Jethro making peace with these feelings between you. Guilt over Marcus isn’t going to bring him back and isn’t going to change how the two of you feel about each other. Why are you fighting it so hard?”
“I don’t know. I am not scared of anything, but…Jethro told me I needed to keep running away from him. What if he means it?”
“Sounds like he’s just trying to protect you. Caitlyn, you’re wasting your life grieving for something you’ve never given yourself a chance to have.”
She hated when Margaret was right and she was nearly always right. She wasn’t up to admitting it verbally, so instead she nodded.
“Good. Now I have to get to work. Not all of us are well-to-do as you.”
Caitlyn laughed and saw Margaret to the door. She was hardly well-to-do, but she had received benefits from the Army and the life insurance policy Marc had on himself had been more than substantial. She knew another, separate smaller policy had been taken out by Marc and the beneficiary was Jethro. She didn’t know what he’d done with the money. Though smaller in amount, it was still fairly large. The policies had been taken out not long after she and Marc married.
Nearly ten years later, Marc had been killed in action and Jethro honorably discharged for injuries sustained during war. And her love hadn’t diminished, not for Marc, and not for Jethro. He had written to her here and there while they’d been deployed. She hadn’t really been surprised about the letters, but at the same time she had been. She cherished both sets of letters…Marc’s and Jethro’s. What had been funny about it though, was Marc talked about Jethro and Jethro talked about Marc. Being in the middle of the two of them, knowing she was loved by both had been something she’d never expected. They were the same but they were different and the feelings shared were different.
She could still remember the day Jethro knocked on her door to tell her about the blast that had killed her husband and taken a chunk out of his own leg. Marc told Jethro to take care of her, to watch out for her, keep loving her, and that had broken her heart, that even he’d realized it was Jethro who held her soul.
Not long after that, the dreams had started. Dark, wicked, sexual dreams of her and Jethro. While he had nightmares of war, she was having erotic fantasies that woke her in the midst of orgasms with his name on her lips. Some nights she never went back to sleep, so she’d get up and write about the dreams.
She had even sold a few of the short stories, using the money she made to purchase items to send in care packages to Marc and Jethro’s unit. She’d also taken up baking as a hobby and would take the cakes and brownies she made to other widows and wives. Then there were the sewing classes she took. Learning to make clothes that fit her, flattered her. She fell in love with sundresses and bright fabrics and she’d taken to making them a lot, filling her closet with all different colors, hoping the light would come back one day. It all kept her busy and she’d needed that. Life as she’d known it was gone and even though it had been two years, until she’d seen Jethro last week, fucked him on the front porch swing, she’d been walking around in a fog.
She hadn’t gone out there for sex but he’d looked so good, so hot. He was her wet dream, her every naughty thought. He’d let his hair grow out, gotten a few tats and hadn’t shaved when she saw him. When he said climb on, she’d been helpless against him, against the hunger that gnawed at her, clawed at her. Wanting him consumed her and her cool, calm persona had come crumbling down while he was buried so deep inside her.
Without thinking about it, she picked up her phone and dialed his number. On the fifth ring she started to hang up, but…
Check out the snippets from these other awesome authors, though since I’m so slow with mine today, you probably already have. 🙂