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Authors: Casey Blue

Feeling This

BOOK: Feeling This
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Published by Casey Blue

Copyright 2013 Casey Blue

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cover Art by B Design

 

 

All Rights
Reserved. This book contains material protected under the International and
Federal copyright laws and treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this
material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means without express written permission from the
author/publisher

 

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Forty

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

 

 

 

 

To Life and all it entails, the happy,
the sad, and the most fulfilling things that encourage us to wake up each and
every morning to a new day!

 

 

 

Chapter One

Jordan

 

I stare into the mirror above my dresser
that is completely cluttered with candles. Susan and her damn candles, but then
remembering last night, maybe I really shouldn’t complain. My hands move deftly
to secure the knot on the plain, baby blue tie as I recall her insistence on
the candles and a smile creeps to my mouth.

Susan calls out from the bathroom where
she’s getting ready, “I really don’t see the point of this whole thing. David
and Bree have been together since what, the third grade? Why all the fuss for
an engagement party? They seem to celebrate themselves every weekend anyway.”

I roll my eyes, this is so typical of her.
She
won’t complain when it’s her engagement party.
 I call out sarcastically,
“Will you feel the same when it’s our turn? When our parents want to parade you
around the club to announce
our
engagement?”

 Once my tie is finished, I stroll to the
floor length mirror and check to make sure that I’m presentable enough. I hate
these things at the club. It’s all for show and status. My navy blue slacks and
white shirt will be sufficient. As I reach up and push my hair out of my eye, I
realize that not only will my mom give me a hard time about my lack of sleep
but also the length of my hair. My mom and her petty complaints aren’t
important at the moment.

I stroll into the bathroom doorway and
glance at Susan from behind. A small smile plays on my lips as I take her in.
She embodies all that is putting on a show at the club, as much as she would
deny it. Her light brown hair hangs in ringlets down her bare back, exposed by
the turquoise dress she has chosen. A small gold chain attaches at each of her
shoulders, ensuring it won’t fall off. I move my gaze to meet her round honey
brown eyes in the mirror. Her smile turns sexy and she teases, “Do you like
what you see?”

I nod my head slowly and walk forward.

She continues, “And just for your
information,
we
have only been together for three years, we deserve this
way more than they do.”

I roll my eyes once again at her antics and
move closer, sliding my hands into the sides of her dress to touch the smooth,
tender skin. She leans back into me and mumbles only half convincingly,
“Jordan, you know now is not the time…”

I take her lack of conviction as permission
and move my hands lower while my lips meet her almost bare shoulder, peppering
it in tiny kisses. She moans and my heart speeds in anticipation. She slowly
turns in my arms forcing my hands out from the warmth of her dress. Her hands
move up my chest clasping around my neck. She moves her lips to meet mine in a
deep kiss while my hands slowly caress her back and find their way down over
her firm ass. Before I can take it any further though, she breaks our
connection and moves back a step. I look at her with longing, but the minute I
see the set look in her eyes, I know, it’s not going any further. The moment is
fleeting and I feel like I need a cold shower.

She smiles sweetly reasoning, “Jordan, you
know we have to go. Maybe we can finish this later.”

I smile down adoring her, this woman, my
Susan, who is everything today that she was three years ago when I met her on
the campus grounds of The University of Texas. We were both in our senior year.
She studying fashion and I business administration and marketing. I fell in
love with her that day and every single day since I have fallen more deeply in
love with her. I knew then that I would marry her one day.

She holds out a gold necklace adorned with
black stones and asks, “Can you fasten this?”

“Of course, Susie Q.”

Turning to face the mirror again her body
stiffens and she frowns hissing as if I just committed the ultimate of crimes,
“You know how I feel about that name, Jordan. Don’t call me that…It’s not me.”

It happens so suddenly, her mood turns. My
pet name has never caused this side of her to come out. My heart falters
realizing yet another thing has triggered it. I never know what will set her off
so I always take my chances. Looking down, trying not to meet her empty gaze, I
shake my head. If I get into it with her and try to reason why she is so
snappy, it will spiral out of control. My best reaction when this happens, is
none. I clasp the necklace and let my fingers linger on her skin for a moment.
Turning to walk back out of the bathroom, her words stop me in my tracks, “Are
you going to ask my father tonight?”

I don’t look back but answer her softly,
“I’ll ask him tonight if an opportunity opens up.”

This seems to satisfy her because she
doesn’t respond. The faucet turns on and the trickling of water into the sink
fills the silence. I make my way back into the bedroom and sit on the edge of
the unmade bed, resting my hands on my knees. My eyes focus on the blue designs
in the Persian rug under my feet. This is the hardest part of being with Susan,
her unpredictable mood swings. There is never any warning when she might have
one. I love her so much. There is nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do for
her. How it will affect our future, worries me.

Tonight I do intend on talking with her
parents, just not about what she is hoping. I want to spend the rest of my life
with her because she is
it
for me, but there are other things that we
need to take care of first.

***

The car ride to the club is strained and
silent. We’re both in our own world. Because of the brief exchange in the
bathroom, I’m afraid to say anything else that might set her off. She’s in one
of these moods and we are going to the club. It’s not a battle I want to
entertain in public.

I maneuver the car through the busy streets
out into the stark neighborhood where The Turtle Creek Country Club is located.
As much as I hate coming to the stuffy events here, it means more to my relationship
with Susan than I would like to admit. We met in college away from here but a
surprise to both of us, when we discovered both of us grew up in the same town,
attending the same country club all our lives. Our parents knew of each other
but had never socialized with one another. It was as if from the pages of a
book back when arranged marriages were common place. Our mothers have been
planning the announcement of our engagement for months now. I haven’t shared
with anyone that I’ve already asked her to marry me. I still have to take the
normal steps by asking for her dad’s permission first. I’m just not ready for
that yet.

I pull my black Infinity into a spot and make
my way around the car to open the passenger side door, grasping her hand to
help her step out of the car. Once she is facing me, I lean in to her ear and
breathe on her neck creating the goose bumps I knew would appear and whisper,
“You look stunning tonight.  I can’t wait until we can finish what we started.”

BOOK: Feeling This
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