Sunday Snippets with Ginger Simpson #Sundaysnips

FROM CULTURE SHOCK THIS WEEK:

NOTE:  Someone is still watching.  Have you guessed who yet?  And things are about to get humorous.

He returned to his dreary apartment and sagged onto the couch. His gut fisted with anger. The two of them were together again. As much as he despised cops, he hated the blonde bitch more. Images of them embracing and sucking each other's tongues turned his stomach. The idiot probably wasn't even aware how she worked her wiles to entice him into a passionate frenzy.

Pounding his fist on his knee, he grimaced, not at the pain but with determination. There was only one way to save his fellow man and it fell directly in his lap.

***

Alex's fork clanked against the bottom of his empty salad bowl, and he wiped his mouth with his napkin.

Cynthia tensed, waiting for him to comment on dinner.

"Do I have any charcoal in my teeth?" He displayed his pearly whites in a wide smile.

Cynthia threw her napkin at him. "Oh, it wasn't that bad ... was it?"

"No." He grinned. "Everything tasted fine. I was just kidding because I knew you were stressing over the chicken."

"I'm usually a pretty good cook, but someone was distracting me." Making a face at him, she stood, cleared the dirty dishes from the table and put them in the sink.

"Are you saying that you burned the chicken because of me?" Alex called after her.

She turned and put her hands on her hips. "Make up your mind. Either it was burnt or it tasted okay. Which is it?"

She started to fill the basin with water, but after holding her hand under the faucet for a time, decided waiting for hot water might take forever.  She swished the soap around in the half-filled sink and gave up.  Besides, she hadn’t planned to wash them now, anyhow.  She had a better way to spend her time.

Alex pushed his chair back and stood. Taking his beer with him, he walked to the sofa. "Let's just forget about the chicken. Really, it tasted great." He patted the cushion next to him. "Come and sit."

Cynthia dried her hands then walked to the divan. Alex's arm rested along the back, a definite invitation to snuggle. She sat and pulled her feet up, tucked them beneath her and leaned back in the crook of his arm. "I really am sorry the chicken got a little overdone. Promise you won't hold it against me."

He closed his hand over her shoulder. "The only thing I plan to hold against you is me."

"Oh, really?" she said, not sure if he kidded her or not.

He put his beer on the table and pulled her into an embrace. "Yes, really.”  The sexy timbre of his voice made her shiver.

Before she could speak, he kissed her.

Her eyes closed and her lips parted to allow him access. She shuddered when their tongues touched. Words of caution played in her mind, but any restraint she had melted away as his kiss deepened and stirred her embers of passion into flame. She had waited all week just to savor his kiss.

Alex stretched out alongside her and snaked a cradling arm under her head. With his free hand, he traced her body's curvature, slowly moving his hand along the side of her breast, to her waist, and along the swell of her hip. A warming sensation lingered wherever he touched.

For propriety's sake, she should push him away and get up, but every nerve in her body tingled with want for him.

When his body arched away, she opened her eyes. With lips still locked to hers, he stretched toward the end table with a reach not quite long enough to turn off the light. The lamp craned in the opposite direction, and while grappling to keep it from falling, Alex's fingers grasped the ancient fixture's frayed cord.

Amidst flickering light, shooting sparks, and the shattering of glass, Cynthia contorted. She closed her eyes as a stinging electrical current coursed through her, arcing her against Alex. The powerful discharge bound them together by pure force.

Her eyes, the only part of her body she could voluntarily move, flew open in wide amazement. Nose-to-nose with Alex, she stared helplessly at him. Moments ago his luscious, blue eyes had been filled with desire, now they bulged in protest against the wattage. Suddenly, the room went dark. At last, the breaker had interrupted the current's flow.

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