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This is my sixteenth week on this blog hop. I’m continuing this week with an excerpt from my current romance WIP, Resistant. Resistant is a romance set in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. In this scene, I’ve moved up to the middle of the next chapter. Important things have happened, but I figured you guys would want more of the good stuff, and I’m on the verge of giving it to you. ;)
I woke with the worst leg cramps I’ve ever felt. I tried stretching them out. Tried messaging them out. Tired getting up, but I couldn’t stand. Nothing was working. My efforts and my cries woke Daniel.
“What’s wrong? Are you all right?” he asked, jerking up in bed.
“My legs,” I cried.
He pulled the blankets off us and went immediately to my legs. My calves were knotted and my feet pointed straight out. I sobbed and panicked. He took both of my feet and pushed them so that my toes pointed up. This stretched my calf muscles and forced them to loosen. I fell back onto the bed, breathing hard but relieved. Charley horses, as my dad had called them, always scared me. The pain was horrendous, and my legs always felt as if they would never straighten out.
Daniel spent a few minutes messaging my legs, to my utter relief, before he moved off the mattress. He went to his mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.
“Drink this. You are dehydrated,” he said, handing me the bottle.
I had figured that much. I drank while he returned to messaging me. The muscles were sore, but his touch was soothing. He rubbed my feet then spread my legs slightly so that he could move between them and rub each of my calves with each hand. I finished the bottle while he worked. Gradually he moved up to behind my knees, to the backs and tops of my thighs, then to the insides of my thighs. Slowly with just small bit of pressure, he moved his hands higher up the insides of my legs.
At first I my brain didn’t register what he was doing, how wide my legs were apart, or where he was positioned between them. When I felt him on the insides of my legs, I had to forcibly keep my eyes shut. I feared that if I opened them he would stop or I found out that I was only dreaming everything.
My breathing grew raspy, stuttery, and I grew nervous with anticipation of how high he would go. He opened my legs wider and his hands moved so very close to the center of my body that my heart stopped beating. His thumbs moved over the flesh where my legs joined my body, and I gasped. He didn’t stop, but his movements grew timid, softer. With that move he had discovered that my shorts are baggy and that I was not wearing panties and his fingertips felt the tiny hairs that covered me since shaving hadn’t been a priority in a very long time.
When his thumbs came oh so close to me again, I said his name. At that, he moved his hands up to grip my hips. I could feel the tremble in them. He leaned over me to get a better a look at my face.
“Sahara?” he asked. I don’t know exactly what he is asking, but I answered the question I hoped he was asking with a yes.
To my annoyance, he didn’t delve right into me as I hoped he would. Instead, he settled back down and continued to message my thighs. Worried that I had misinterpreted his question, I forced myself to calm. Each time his movements brought him to my center, he got a little closer to actually touching me. I needed him to touch me. I let my hips jerk toward his touch, letting him know what it is that I wanted. He didn’t acknowledge the movement. At least not right away.
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