On my Facebook page, I gave the option of showing never before seen teasers, or an excerpt from my next book.

The overwhelming vote went to excerpt.



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(UNTITLED) © Stylo Fantôme
WORK-IN-PROGRESS - QUOTES ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE, THIS IS A COMPLETE ROUGH DRAFT
SET TO PUBLISH IN THE FALL

She made her way up to his room slowly. She didn't want to come off as too eager. They'd been playing cat and mouse for a month, under the assumption neither would get caught. Now that it was time to eat, she wasn't quite ready to be the mouse.

The door to the third room on the right wasn't locked. She was cautious as she opened the door, in case it wasn't his room, but the first thing she saw was the black duffel bag he'd taken off with, followed by the clothing he'd been wearing. She moved into the room and shut the door behind her.

She could hear the shower running, so she took her time, looking over the space he'd been living in for the past month. It was simple. A room. A bed that was little more than a cot. A small table. One small chair. There had been electricity downstairs, but there didn't seem to be any in his room. Three mismatched, stout candles were burning on the table, and that was the only light source.

She heard the water trickle to a stop, so she made her way back towards the bathroom. Just as she grasped the knob, she felt it turn from the other side, and the door started to pull away. She smiled.

Samesies.

She lost her smile the same moment a hand wrapped around her neck. She let out a shriek as she was yanked around and slammed against a wall. The hand was replaced by a forearm; a much more effective body part for choking someone. She gritted her teeth, slapping at the arm that was restraining her.

“It's me! It's me!”

Marc looked surprised. And angry. He backed off a little and she sucked in gasps of air. His forearm moved to her collar bone, still holding her in place against the wall. She glared right back at him, resisting the urge to plant her knee in his testicles.

“What the fuck are you doing here!? How did you find me!?” he demanded, then his eyes darted around the room, as if he thought she'd brought people with her.

“You weren't exactly hard to follow, you idiot. You walked here,” she growled.

“I thought you were talking with the Brigadier.”

“I was. It wasn't a very long conversation.”

“I told you, I don't let anyone know where I sleep,” he reminded her, his voice low.

“Well, I didn't come here with intentions of sleeping, so we're still good.”

That got through to him, and he finally smiled at her. The pressure from his arm let up, but he leaned more of his body against her, lining them up from the hips down.

“I told you to meet me at a bar,” he pointed out, lowering his head to brush his cheek against the side of hers, then dipping down to rub against her neck. She heard a sharp inhale, like he was smelling her.

“Sometimes I'm not very good at listening.”

“I have to be out of here in a couple hours.”

“I only need a couple hours.”

“That's it? I had such high hopes for you.”

She snorted and moved her hands to his waist, yanking his towel away.

“And I had high hopes that your mouth would be good for something other than talking. So far, it's a disappointment.”

He kissed her in a way that made their first kiss seem like a church greeting. His tongue was present and forceful in her mouth, his hands moving to press heavily against her chest. She moaned, reveling in the feeling of being touched. Of actually wanting to be touched.

She scratched her nails along his hips and went to dip down between them, but he was quicker, and he grabbed her wrists, slamming her arms against the wall above her head. She gasped and automatically tried to resist, but he just squeezed tighter, pushed harder. Cat and mouse was over, the roles had been established. If he didn't want her to move, then she wasn't going to be able to move.

Does that mean I'm in the mouse trap?