Page 10 of You Make Me Feel
It’s beautiful. Like looking at a painting. It fills my heart the way art does. The waybeauty does.
And it kills me.
Taking a deep breath, I shake my head at myself. Enough of this. It’s fine, I’m fine. Even Larry’s fucking fine.
Maybe it’s time to stop worrying and start living. For as long as I can.
SADIE
I’m pulling back the covers on my bed when my phone pings with a message from Romy, who should be fast asleep by now, after the long shift we both pulled. But she’s younger than me – albeit by a few years – and seems to have endless energy. My eyes scan the words and a smile pulls at my lips.
New YouTube video is up. Expect lots of online orders. Oh, and don’t forget it’s Bro’s Book Club on Tuesday. You’ll need to close the shop early. - Romy xx
I drop my phone onto the bed and smile to myself. No wonder I’m exhausted. Saturdays in spring are always hectic, but today had been something else. Between the tourists, the locals, and Romy’s army of online followers, the shop was buzzing all day. The stack of mail orders by the register was so tall the poor mailman grumbled that I was single-handedly funding his physical therapy bill.
But it paysmybills. And I’m supremely grateful for that.
As soon as I’m nestled beneath the sheets, I click on thelink Romy sent. The screen lights up, competing with the soft glow of the lamplight on the table beside my bed, then Romy’s smiling face comes into focus.
“Hello book friends, I’m Romy and I’m coming to you straight from Books by the Sea, where the romance is hot, the tropes are messy, and the caffeine never stops flowing.” She lifts her mug – emblazoned with our logo – to prove it.
God, I love her.
I can see the soft pink walls of the shop behind her, twinkle lights glowing over the romance display. She’s turned some books around so the covers are showing – that always increases sales.
“This is episode two in our series about romance kinks, and why they float our boats. Tonight we’re talking about primal play,” she says, lowering her voice a little. “Now, this one’s not about pain, or punishment, or even dominance. It’s about instinct. It’s about choosing to give control to someone you trust, and letting yourself be wanted.”
She carries on, and I realize this is the bit I overheard her recording. When she’s talking about games of chase, of capture. She describes it in her low, warm voice, and I find my face heating.
Jesus, am I getting turned on by game of tag now? I really need to get a life.
She recommends a couple of books. Ones I know we have stocked – because of course she made me put in extra orders before she recorded this video.
She describes the first one, leaning closer to the camera. “He hunts her,” she whispers. “And she likes it. She wants it. Imagine having a man so desperate to catch you, he’ll do whatever it takes. Break laws, break people, protect you to the ends of the earth. You’re the only thing driving him.”She fans her face with the book, like she needs some cool air. “Seriously, who wouldn’t want to be somebody’s obsession? In a book at least? I know I would.”
I’m taking that bit with a pinch of salt. Last week she wanted to ride dragons. But still, it’s hard not to be captivated by the way she leans in, her face so completely animated.
“And if you think this is all theory, go check out the latest trend on TikTok. Husbands chasing their wives through their houses, down driveways, across lawns. It’s like fully-clothed foreplay. And when they catch them, hoo boy. It’s super hot.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. I reach for my phone and swipe over to the app. I type in 'couple chase’ and the results immediately fill my screen.
The first one is on a beach. The couple are beautiful – he’s handsome with a big smile, wearing a white shirt half-unbuttoned and a pair of rolled up jeans. She’s in a white dress. They’re both barefoot.
He shouts ‘go’ and she runs – like really runs. She’s not half-assing it in any way. He counts down from ten, giving her a head start, then he turns on his heels, his body a powerful predator as he runs after her, closing the distance between them despite her best efforts.
And when he’s a breath away from her, he grabs her waist, pulling her against him, both of them falling down onto the sand. There’s a split second before he kisses her hard and fast, when you can see it in her face, the heady mix of surrender and thrill.
My heart thumps a little harder. I keep scrolling.
In the next video the man looks older and broad-shouldered, in a dark gray shirt rolled to the elbows and atailored pair of navy pants that cling to his thick thighs. And when he catches his wife, something about the movement – the grip, the heat – makes my breath hitch.
My lips part and I exhale softly. Trying to imagine being so wanted, so desired that a man would do whatever it took to take me. Not ignored, cast away. Or used as a human ATM.
I swallow hard. Because I’ve never been wanted like that.
There’s a pulse between my thighs as I watch another video. This time he’s dressed as a cop, and his wife is pretending to be a perpetrator. God, he looks mean and perfectly honed. His biceps are so huge I have no doubt they could throw anybody around.
Why does that make me feel so flustered?
