This is my first fic that's longer than a flash, so, be gentle. Or rough. I like it both ways.
Thank you to my pre-reader lellabeth and my beta geekchic, because without them, this wouldn't be happening. I'd still be hiding in a corner. They're incredible people, writers, readers, and cheerleaders.
Geeky, you're brill, darling. You make all things beautiful, and your encouragement is like...air. I need it. I had no idea what em dashes were before you (I had to google it). Lella, you are the perfect reader (and writer). Your feedback tells me you get me, and that's about the best feeling in the world. 333 I love you girls.
Twilight and all our favorite playmates belong in the playground Stephenie Meyer built, and I don't own them. They're just so damn fun.
I tinker until posting, so mistakes are mine.
I'm sleeping, cozy-warm and wrapped up in Love, when I hear it. It's just a little thing, a ping and a buzz, but it makes my heart race and my hands shake. It makes me cold-sweat and stiffen. It brings me to life, fills my veins with adrenaline, and tells me I'm wanted.
I shift slow, easy, soft out from under Love's arm and pick up my purse. He is snoring away, unknowing. I tiptoe over sinking silent carpet, out the door and down the hall, through the kitchen and out the back door into cool, lightless night air before I even dare to dig my phone out and look at what it says.
When my thumb hovers over the button, I breathe deep and smile, soaking in the feelings and letting them fill me up. Then press and read: Mine.
Just one word, and I am weak for him, wanting more and all. My feet are freezing in the dew-damp grass but I feel heat all over. That's what he does to me, my love-stealer, pain-causer, pleasure-giver. My Sin.
I don't text back because he knows. I delete and cover tracks. I sit down on the rough wooden deck steps and light a cigarette. Love, just down the hall, he hates it when I smoke. He says it's because he cares and he doesn't want me to get cancer, but it's because he doesn't like how it looks to other people. Sin, he smokes with me and always, always lights my cigarette off the end of his. When I get nearly down to the filter, and am standing to go back inside, the deck light flips on, and everything is too bright. For a half-second, I panic. Then I'm just pissed.
I can't see Love standing on the other side of the door, but he's there. I hold a hand up to shade my eyes and hiss at him to turn off the light. He does and I can see again. I flip him the bird though I doubt he sees. I tuck my pack and my lighter back into my purse and sling it over my shoulder, then take three deep breaths of cool air before walking back to Love.