So I’m starting to fall a bit behind. Thanksgiving preparation is killing me! We’re hosting again this year and expect 16 (possibly up to 20) for lunch Thursday. I don’t have “a list.” I have 5 pages of notes about when to start each dish and a grocery list a mile long. And here I thought mastering a story with 2 major subplot lines was challenging!
I was sooo tired last night that at 10 PM I made a fresh pot of coffee. I was determined to get at least 1 day’s words in so I wouldn’t fall even further behind. It took almost 2 hours, but I got my words. This morning, I was going to run errands, etc. but Papa from Mexico (my Dad and he’s not really from Mexico) will be in town for Grandparents’ Day, so I think I’ll get my words first. I need to break 40K today if I have any hope of hitting NaNoWriMo this weekend.
NaNoWriMo total (as of last night): 37,924 words
Snippet: I love the undercurrents in this snippet, building toward the big showdown.
“I trust you. Don’t you know that?”
“How…” He swallowed the ragged edge in his voice. “How can you trust me?”
Shadows flickered through her eyes that he couldn’t name. Doubt? Concern? Anger? “Are you saying I shouldn’t?”
Releasing her, he stretched out on his back and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I don’t know how far I’ll go. I don’t know what my limit is, and if I don’t know mine, how can you trust me not to cross yours?”
“I don’t know what my limits are either.” She laid her head on his chest and stroked her fingers up and down his chest in lazy swirls, teasingly giving a light pull on his chest hairs. “Are you scared of me?”
“Hell, yes, I’m scared of you. Baby, you push me so hard I’m afraid I’ll drag us both off the cliff.”
“Well, as long as we go together, I don’t care.”
She said it so lightly, as though she really didn’t care, while the very thought made him ill. How could he love and protect her if he was the one who’d hurt her the worst?
“I suppose we ought to get back. Mal still needs to punish me.”
Stiffening, he fought for a calm and reasonable tone of voice. “I really don’t like another Dominant to punish you, even for the show.”
She propped her elbow on his chest so she could stare down into his eyes. In a somber, gentle voice, she said, “You know you’re the only one who can ever truly punish me, don’t you? What Patrick did was just a show. It didn’t mean anything.”
“It meant a big f*cking deal to me to sit there and watch him hurt you.” When I wanted to hurt you myself.
“It hurt, sure, but it wasn’t punishment. It certainly wasn’t glorious like what you just did. I’d much rather have you hurt me.” She shrugged, so nonchalant that he wanted to shake her.