General update.....

On chapter 36 of Chris' book : ) Still going strong. Right now I'm putting all of my energy into his book. There are several other books halfway done, but they're going to have to wait. Not going to rush this book, but I hope to have it listed by Thanksgiving.

New Pyte book underway......

There are several Pyte books currently being written while I finish up Chris' story. I thought I'd share one of my favorite parts with you:

           He growled softly as he watched his sister disappear into her room. That woman was not staying. He didn’t care what Marta threatened him with. If Marta tried to move out he would either drag her back here or follow her. Either way Cloe was not staying a moment longer. He couldn’t tell Marta this, but she was risking the young woman’s life by keeping her here. He never wanted anyone’s blood or body more in his life. His self-control was good, but it wasn't perfect. She had to go.

            He walked to the kitchen only to find it empty and….clean. What the hell? His eyes dropped to the floor. It was shiny and white with rose petals. He frowned at the floor. He could have sworn it was a dull gray this morning. The room no longer smelled of old food, dust and a thousand other odors. It smelled of chemical and lemon. Every surface was clean and shinning. He snorted, he could have done that.

            He closed his eyes and listened. He heard two heartbeats. One on the first floor which was Marta's and the other was on the second floor. Oh hell no….

            He took the back stairs two at time and raced towards the sound of her heartbeat. It came from a closed door at the end of the hall. Without any hesitation he threw the door open and quickly stumbled.

            “Don’t you knock?” Cloe cried as she grabbed a towel to hold up in front of her.

            He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. His eyes were fixed on that damn towel that she was now using to cover up heaven. He glared at the damn thing, willing it to drop or shift to the side a foot or two so he could see that beautiful body again. Large breasts with dark nipples, flat stomach with just the slightest swell, wide hips and soft (he was willing to bet his life they were soft) butterscotch curls between her legs that was just begging for his devotion and he would give it too. Gladly.

            She snorted. “The towel’s not going to disappear and I’m not dropping it.”

            His jaw clenched. She couldn’t know that for sure. For another moment he stared, more like silently pleaded for it to move.

            “You really need to get laid,” she said dryly.

            His eyes snapped up to hers. Holy shit! Was that an offer?

            Cloe rolled her eyes as she managed to wrap the towel around her and tuck it in between her breasts without giving him a show. Damn.

            “Is there something you wanted?” she asked.

            You. “I-I wanted to…” he stuttered before his voice trailed off. His eyes had dropped to the cleavage that he wanted to run his tongue over and he was back to willing the towel to drop. 

            She sighed as she walked over to him. Thank god because his feet wouldn’t move and he was practically screaming at them to make them go to her. She was taking the initiative. That was fine with him. He’d let her set the pace and then he’d take over and probably take her on every surface in this room.

            Cloe gripped his arms tightly. Oh yeah. He leaned down to kiss her when he was unceremoniously shoved from the room. The door closed in his face.

            “But…but….”

            He heard her soft laughter from behind the door. He stared at the door for another moment before he came to his damn senses. It was probably a good thing the door was between him so his blood, well most of his blood, could return to his head.

            He pounded on the door. “Cloe!”

            With an exasperated sigh she answered the door. Thankfully she was dressed. His eyes skimmed over the tight baby doll tank top and oddly arousing green and blue flannel pajama bottoms. To his utter delight the two pieces of clothing didn’t meet, giving him a glimpse of that taunt little stomach and navel. Damn, he’d love to trace that with his tongue.

            Two warm fingers gently gripped his chin and pulled his face and gaze away. He may have whimpered.

            “Hi, nice to have you back,” Cloe said with a wry smile. “Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” She released her hold on his chin and he had to fight not to drop his eyes down. From the look on her face he knew that if he did that he would be looking at the door again.

            He gave himself a mental shake. Right. 

            “You’re fired,” he said firmly in a tone that brokered no argument.

            She yawned. “Okay, see you in the morning.” She moved to close the door.

            Christofer pressed his hand against the door to stop her. “Didn’t you hear me? I said you’re fired.”

            “That’s two times,” she said with a small smile.

            “Yes…yes, I did say it twice.” Was she insane?

            “I’ll make sure to tell Marta that in the morning.”

            “Wait, what?”

            Cloe gave him a coy smile. “Marta told me to tell her if you tried to fire me and how many times. Something about a cane….not really sure.” She shrugged.

            Aw, shit. 

            This was not happening. He was the man of this family and of this house. This was his house god damn it.

            “You’re fired.”

            She rolled her eyes. “That’s three.”

            Damn it!

Copyright R.L. Mathewson 2011. All Rights Reserved.