I was trying to follow the rhythm of his breathing. It was all I could hear anymore. His gentle hands held my face, and then one moved to my wrist, keeping time. My breathing started to slow, and I could smell him, the musky and insanely sexy smell of cologne and sweat. I could feel the warmth of his breath, and I knew he was just inches away. I didn’t want to move, and not because these episodes drained me of all energy, but because I wanted nothing more than to stay right there, with Oliver close enough to breathe in.
Rebecca Fisher graduated with a B.A. in English and an M.S. in Education, and teaches High School English. Her own experiences living in a mortuary in Northern California and raising her daughter on her own serve as the inspiration for the many macabre and candid encounters in her novel. She lives in California with her husband and two daughters.
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