Probably, with it being the Saturday after a holiday, there will be little blog traffic...at least that's what I'm counting on...(okay, pick the donut or drink of your choice and put it on my tab...wow...I am such a posting-my-WIP-weenie!)
This is again from my WIP , a YA wherein Wren, a girl who works as a serving wench at a Renaissance Faire falls in love with Will, a cursed boy from the 16th century. Working title Wren Faire.
(okay, so they have both kind of figured out the situation...and realized that they can't really be together...but they are teenagers in love, so.....)
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he whispered. She could hear a tremble in his voice.
“What?” Although she had a pretty good idea what he was talking about, but he didn’t move his hand away.
“That.” he glanced down to where her finger left a burning trail on the back of his hand.
She didn’t stop. She could hear the rate of his breathing increase.
“The touching,” he whispered, still not moving his hand away. “I don’t know why your touch affects me so………so intensely…but it does.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but the tip of her finger felt like it was on fire. Yet she couldn’t stop touching him, tracing the little circles on the back of his hand, counting the little hairs. Thirty seven.
She couldn’t look up at his face. She was too afraid that he’d be looking at her like she was stupid or something. She was more afraid that he’d be looking at her in that way again. The way that made her stomach flutter and her cheeks feel too warm too fast. But he must like it, for his breathing got quicker and he didn’t pull away.
Softer than a cloud, so soft that she barely felt it, he reached out and touched her hair. So dark a red it was that he half expected it to feel hot. But it wasn’t. It was smooth, oh so smooth. His hand trailed down, across her cheek until it rested under her chin. She wasn’t looking at him. Good thing, too, he thought. For her eyes were too easy to read, and if there was, again, that invitation to touch her lips with his own…….He felt her swallow and inhale. Her breathing was shallow, almost as if she was about to hyperventilate. At least he wasn’t the only one having a hard time with self control.
okay, so there it is...almost kissing, but not.
(I am nearing the end of this WIP, hopefully within the month. I had hoped to finish in November, but only managed to crank out about 17,000 words. I can't even estimate how long it will be, somewhere between 65,000 and 80,000. I wish I was faster, but...)
Thank you for reading.