The Hell Yeah! Series Continues...
Forget Me Never
(Hell Yeah! Book 7 - Cajun Style)
**Content Warning: Contains explicit contents intended for 18+ audience**
Some truly lucky people experience a love so great that nothing can separate them. Distance, misunderstandings or even death are not powerful enough to stop the longing and the hunger and the desire to be together. Patrick loves Savannah. He is a Marine who faces danger on a daily basis and his greatest fear is to be forgotten. Savannah loves Patrick. Because of the circumstances of her birth, she has grown up never knowing what it is like to be touched or hugged or accepted by anyone. The haunting mists of Louisiana, the ravaging horrors of war, and the remnants of an ancient disease will try to pull them apart, until their destiny draws them together and they discover a love so perfect that it will last forever.
The TV was on, the food was spread out and she had on as close to something sexy as she owned. Savannah had more on her mind than football. “Wow, this looks great!” Patrick was a big eater, so she had fixed plenty.
“Did you have a good conversation with your friend?”
“Yes, I did. We talked about you, mostly.” He settled down on the couch – just stretched out and left her a little spot in the corner. “Come here, I want to cuddle.”
“What did you say about me?” She sat on her legs and looked him in the eye.
“You’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you?” Patrick teased.
“A little bit.”
She fed him a bite of pizza. He took the bite, captured her hand and licked the remaining spot of sauce off her fingers. “I just told him how I felt about you. And we discussed some business, that’s all.” There was more to it than that, but he wasn’t ready to tell her everything – not yet. “Look, the game’s starting.”
Typical male, he got into the game. Savannah had a good time watching him. He yelled at the quarterback. He snarled at the referees, but mostly he looked disturbed because the first half was almost over and the Colts were ahead of the Saints. “It’s okay.”
Patrick knew it was okay. But this game had come to mean more to him than just his favorite team winning the big prize. It might be silly, but he had wound this all up with his chances of being with Savannah. “The game’s not over.”
“No, it’s not.” There were a few minutes left until halftime and then The Who were going to sing. Savannah was still hungry – but not for food. “Come on Brees!” Patrick yelled at the Saints quarterback. “Do something!”
Savannah decided to make her own play. He was sitting about a foot away from her. He had been closer, but he was eating and getting into the game and somehow he’d moved away from her. That would never do. He wasn’t paying any attention to her at all, so when she let her hand inch his way – she waited to see what he would do.
Patrick knew Savannah thought he was oblivious to her advances. She was letting her fingers do the walking – literally. Her little hand was inching toward him, and he couldn’t wait to see what she was up to. He leaned forward just like he was engrossed in the game. Right now he was more interested in her, but he wasn’t going to let on.
She let her fingers touch his hard thigh – just barely. First, she pushed her hand under his legs just a little bit, like it was cold and she was trying to get warm. He just grunted – he wasn’t taking the hint. Next, she let her fingers walk up his leg, like a little spider – still, nothing. Damn! Getting a mite bolder, she curled her hand over the top of his leg and rubbed her thumb up and down on the strong muscle. He had the audacity to pat her hand and say, “Hey, Baby. How’s it going?”
Patrick bit back a smile when she huffed and muttered under her breath. It was the same little voice she’d used the day they met in the memorial when her friend had been embarrassing the heck out of her.
Before Patrick, she would never have attempted something like this. But he had given her confidence in her attraction that no one ever had. So, she let her hand – slide upward – upward toward his crotch, until she bumped into something rather large and hard.
“Uh-Oh,” She looked up at Patrick.
“I’m kinda trying to watch the game here, Baby,” he said with a smirk, trying not to laugh.
The feel of Patrick’s bulge had caused a stir in her sex which made her feel naughty. She fixed Patrick with a vexed glare, but he ignored her eyes. She huffed, and withdrew her hand from the firm bulge that she’d wanted to explore further and folded her arms defensively across her chest. Her first attempt at seduction, and Patrick had rejected her; this didn’t sit well with Savannah.
Savannah sat on the couch as halftime drew closer and the Saints marched down the field. Beside her, Patrick watched her out of the corner of his eye. The brazen way she’d grabbed for his package had turned him on, but he wanted to see how she would handle his rejection, see if she wanted him bad enough to make another move.
Savannah was doing a horrible job of masking her displeasure and when she innocently moved her hands up over her head for a stretch, something in the way her head tilted to the side filled Patrick with a need to kiss her neck.
Patrick shimmied a few inches closer to his Savannah and now it was her turn to pretend she didn’t notice what he was doing.
When Patrick shimmied a few more inches, Savannah picked up a magazine from the end table beside her; she wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
A few more inches and Patrick was close enough that his essence made her legs squirm.
“Hey,” Patrick said.
He was right beside her now, his thickly muscled arm pressed against hers, their thighs touching.
Savannah ignored him.
“Whatcha readin’?” He inquired, snatching the magazine from her hands.
Patrick held the magazine just out of Savannah’s reach. She made one grab for it, but gave up, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
Savannah looked away from him. Not her best move if she hoped to remain cross with Patrick. That small patch of bare skin on Savannahs neck that had caused the tightness in Patrick’s jeans was now fully exposed and with Savannah looking the other way, he seized the opportunity and leaned in to kiss it softly.
Savannah flinched when she felt Patrick’s gentle lips on her neck, then her shoulder. “Pa…trick,” she said, forgetting almost all of the annoyance he’d inspired in her so recently. “Stop,” she offered weakly, but tilted her neck further to the side to grant him even greater access.
“Stop?” Patrick kissed her neck. “Stop what?”
He licked up to Savannah’s ear, nibbling on the lobe lightly before moving back down to her collarbone.
Savannah whimpered with appreciation. Gone now was any semblance of the frustration and rejection she’d felt, in its place was nothing but bliss. The skin on her neck was dimpled with goosebumps; her chest beginning to flush.
“You want me to go?” Patrick asked between kisses.
His hand had found its way around to the front of her shirt, undoing first the top button of her blouse and then the next one.
Savannah placed her hand behind Patrick’s head as he kissed her collarbone and shoulder. “I thought you wanted to watch the game?” The words barely came out of her mouth in an audible tone.
“I’d rather watch you,” Patrick whispered in her ear.
Savannah’s round bottom levitated from the couch when Patrick hit that magic spot just behind her ear. “I have to tell you, this is one of my favorite fantasies in the whole world.”
Patrick’s hand stilled. “What’s that, Baby?” If she had a fantasy, he would do his damnedest to fulfill it.
Sable Hunter writes erotic romance. She writes what she likes to read and enjoys putting her fantasies on paper. Her stories are emotional reads where the heroine is faced with challenges, like one of her favorite songs – she’s holding out for a hero – and boy, can she deliver a hero. Her aim is to write a story that will make you laugh, cry and sweat. If she can wring those emotions out of a reader, then she has done her job. She grew up in south Louisiana along the mysterious bayous where the Spanish moss hangs thickly over the dark waters. The culture of Louisiana has shaped her outlook on life and made its way into her novels where the supernatural is entirely normal. Presently, Sable lives in Texas and spends most of her time in wild and wonderful Austin. She is passionate about animals and has been known to charm creatures from a one ton bull to a family of racoons. For fun, Sable has been known to haunt cemeteries and battlefields armed with night-vision cameras and digital recorders hunting proof that love survives beyond the grave.