Hope you've all had a wonderful holiday! Enjoy your evening, be safe, and remember to tell those you love how you feel.
In that light, I want to thank everyone who's bought, read, and reviewed THE ART OF APPRECIATION. Y'all made my month!
I have an urge to share an outtake from near the end of the story :) Enjoy "Abby's Dream", & come back next week for more outtakes (Wanna know just how serious things between Abby and Jason got? *fans self*) and a few giveaways.
Pounding startled Abby from her thin sleep. She bolted upright, sending her phone and the remote skittering across the floor, and looked wildly around the room. Her eyes jerked to the front door as the racket started again.
“What the hell…” She shoved aside the afghan that was cutting the October coolness. She swung her feet to the floor as the pounding recommenced. “I’m coming, damn it,” she barked, stomping to the door and only realizing when it was swinging open that she’d not even checked the peephole.
Her sleepy brain had only time enough to register the size and shape of a man before she was swept up in strong arms. The door crashed shut as a booted foot kicked the wood.
Matt’s sigh into her hair was warm and familiar against the top of her head, and Abby didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him, clutching the thin material of his Hawaiian shirt in her fisted hands as she buried her face in his chest. “Matt?” she whispered, trying to wrap her mind around the thought that he was here, in her living room, in her arms. “What-? I thought… Christmas-”
Matt loosened his hold on her, but moved back only enough to gently tip her head back with the knuckle of his forefinger. “Sshh…,” he murmured. His eyes gleamed as he smiled down at her. “We can talk later.” His smooth hand glided down the rough wool of her sweater, tracing the lines of her body beneath. “I’ve missed you.”
She moved away from him with a gasp, gulping air as his lips traced a path from her mouth to the hollow of her throat. Her fingers frantically tugged at the buttons of his shirt, laying it open so she could feel his skin beneath her palms. Matt lowered her feet to the floor so he could tug her sweater over her head.
She pushed the bright cloth off of his shoulders and they stood looking at each other. Abby felt tears rise to film her vision. “I’ve missed you so much, Matt.” Her voice quavered, and the bright shine of desire in his eyes softened. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? We have so much to talk about--”
“Later,” Matt said. He lifted her up and groaned with pleasure as she buried her hands in his auburn hair. “We have forever to talk.” He buried his face in her hair at her neck.
A faint warning bell rang in Abby’s mind. She pushed ineffectually against his shoulders. “Wait-” She gasped when one of his hands slid beneath the waistband of her flannel pants and cupped her bum. “Matt—what about Baker’s statues? Are you finished?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Matt said. His hand slid lower, between her legs. “What matters is this.” He kissed her fiercely. “And this.” He cupped her breast and squeezed the tender tip. “And this. This is what matters.”
Giving in to the temptation he offered, Abby jerked him toward her and pressed her mouth to his, tracing the breadth of his shoulders and the smooth skin of his chest with her fingertips. Matt responded in kind, his hands and mouth alternately rough and eager.
Abby didn’t realize that they’d left the living room until she felt the springiness of mattress beneath her body. She felt the warm weight of the backs of his fingers as he ran them from her shoulder to her thigh, lingering at the curves of breast and hip.
"This..." he murmured, his voice rough, "...this is what I've been waiting for."
Abby lost herself in the sensation of skin on skin, feeling each touch as if an electric current was running directly to her nerves. The sensation was exquisite when she lowered herself on to him as he knelt on the bed. Matt gripped her hips tightly, resting his head against her chest as he concentrated on raising himself up to meet her slow grind. Abby opened her eyes and smiled down at his wavy red hair…
The warning chimes in her head became sirens; she cupped his face, trying to raise his eyes to hers. “Matt?”
“Wait, Pretty,” he growled. “You’re almost there.”
Abby’s body stopped its headlong rush toward ecstasy. “Matt? Why won’t you look at me?”
“It doesn’t matter, Pretty. This is what you really want.”
Abby shoved at his shoulders, shuddering at their pallor. “Abby. Call me Abby,” she said. He laughed softly.
She heard banging in the next room, and cried out when it was Conor’s face that looked up from between her breasts at the sound. “Pretty is good enough for me,” he said.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!