Touch of Base 5- Excerpt 2

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“Don’t get caught up miss thing!” Misty warned herself. “Remember the first time that you thought it might be something. You went through hell trying to find yourself again. You promised yourself, from now on, it’s all or nothing at all. Enjoy the moment but don’t get lost in it.”

Deep inside, Misty worried about the challenges of a relationship. She had already guessed long ago that love might not have been her strongest personal area. The complications that sometimes came with the emotions like jealousy, insecurity, and hurt had frightened her. Misty had yet to trust the process of love.

She was confident enough to accept that love was something that she purposely avoided. Misty had made a habit of running every time love got too close to her. Her marriage to Scott had been doomed from the start. He had told her what kind of person he was and what he wanted in a mate. A good deal of their conversations focused on topics such as female place and responsibilities.

She was less than a month from her 18th birthday when they met. Misty had disregarded the thinly veiled criticisms of women from him, at first. She overlooked the signs of the subtle hints that he did not care for equality or self-identity in women. Self-identity was a human right, as far as Misty was concerned.

Slowly, the confidence that Misty had always held tightly, began to feel strained around him. They had started to argue almost daily, over trivial things. He thought her clothes revealed too much; makeup was obscene, and to pamper oneself with manicures and pedicures was selfish and vain.

It was not long before Misty’s temper spurred her to fight back, after all, she had indulged those things before she met him. In fact, she was on her way to get her nails done the day that they met. She had decided that she would break it off a few months into their tryst. Then discovered that there was a child that grew inside of her womb. Instead of the planned break-up, she married him, and prayed things would get better.

It was three children, two dogs, eight mistresses, a couple of random baby’s mama’s that she never knew existed, that Misty packed her bags and left without a note or word. The divorce had been messy. Although a few of those mistresses were hers, Misty had not known herself well enough beforehand to get that marriage was not a commitment that she was ready to make. Especially at such a young age to an older man.

They valued different things. He seemed to want a tightly control homelife with an utterly subservient mate. She wanted education, culture, romance, flair, style, and freedom. Misty craved the kind of energy that drew soulmates together effortlessly.

Instantly, Kaiden popped back into the front of her thoughts.
“Kaiden, my sexy, dark brown, muscle-bound, soft-tongued, certified magical beast, how did you get here? I’m loving what we do, but…oh God, I can feel my heart beat again. I forgot what that felt like.” Misty moaned.

Her right hand moved up to her chest. Misty could physically feel the thump below her breast. Even though that was normal to her, the warmth that spread through her body at the thought of Kaiden was unusual. She stood quietly and allowed the pleasant energy to flow through her.

Suddenly, her mind began to race, and the vivid images started to flow. There were memories of the fire in his eyes when he stared into hers, while their tangled flesh melded into one fluid entity. The sound of his raspy voice as it whispered her name along with the high-pitched screech of hers when she screamed his name echoed.

The feel of his broad back beneath her clawing fingertips. The sweet, pungent scent of perfume and sweat. The violent way that her thighs trembled, when Misty could no longer deny him the evidence of the pleasure of his touch brought. Misty shoulders dropped slightly. Her breaths grew quick as fear settled inside her.

“Damn, I’m supposed to go home. Kaiden, my sweet Kaiden. I do not want to be the source of your pain, but I gave my word.” Misty wailed.

Slowly, her breaths returned to a regular pace. Misty’s hand roamed up past her neck, the side of her, and up to her forehead. She gently massaged her temples to ease a headache that had begun to form almost instantly. A few moments later, Misty finally sighed.

“I made a promise to go home; before I met you. Now how I am supposed to walk away from the first person who touched my soul?” Misty mumbled.

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