Book Crazy: Book Blitz & Giveaway: Look, Don’t Touch [Pieces of Us 01] by Meg Everly!

Excerpt!

Arlo

I’ve never been electrocuted, though it’d been threatened more times than I could count. I suspect it’s what her touch feels like. Like being electrocuted.

My life is on the line. I’m terrified. Yet the current courses through me, and I’m alive. I’m energized and frenetic in a way I haven’t been in a long, long time.

It’s nothing like the touches I’ve endured for the past eighteen years. Mostly, because I chose this. I sought this.

I sought her.

Dr. Hailey Fitzgerald.

I found her.

I’m touching her. She’s touching me.

She’s looking at me with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. They remind me of the garden in the back of my home. Back when it was a family home. Back when it was loved and cared for by my father and grandmothers. Her eyes conjure feelings of sunshine on my face and fresh-cut grass under my feet. Though they’re vibrant like the garden, there are skeletons under her soil. There are treasures too.

I want them both.

“Is this okay?” she asks as she gently slides her fingertips over my hot palm. Her mouth is so unique. One minute, it’s slicing and dicing me to bits, and the next, it’s soft as a breeze. I don't know which I prefer.

“Okay isn’t the word I’d use to describe it,” I rasp through my broken voice.

“How would you describe it?”

“Indescribable.” It is accurate. I’d gladly try to put it into words, but I’m fairly certain she wouldn’t want to hear them.

“Anything to get out of a straight answer, huh?”

Her hand finally settles against my palm and her fingers wrap around my hand. I feel trapped in her grip. I’ve felt trapped many times before. Only this time is different.

I don’t want to be released.

My fingers engulf her hand in return.

A thrill pings off my fingers, to my heart, to my groin, and then into my brain, where it explodes, just as it did when I slipped her jacket onto her arm and noticed the barest hint of an outline of a massive tattoo.

I know I will be released. I must be. I have too many secrets. One more now than I had just an hour ago.

“Are you going to help me up or simply hold my hand?” She grins at me, and her cheeks are red from the chill in the air. “Either is fine,” she hastily adds.

I shouldn’t, but I like towering over her, looking down at her. “How long has it been since someone held your hand?”

Her gaze leaves me for just a second. It goes up and over while she calculates. Then it’s back on me in a blink. I like that too. This is all so surreal. Being close. Touching. Being present in my skin. Hell, even enjoying being in my skin while it’s experiencing touch.

“Four weeks. How long has it been for you?”

“Four weeks multiplied by two hundred forty-seven.”

Her eyes narrow for several seconds as though she’s trying to do the math, and she hates math. Then they go wide. Her fingers hold me impossibly tighter. The edges of her eyes glisten. She bites the inside of her cheek, which she does when trying to regain composure. Her lashes flutter like butterfly wings.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

I'd trust only one other person with this, but I can’t. If it went poorly, it would break him. I’d lose him forever, and that cannot happen. I’d never survive.

“Please, don’t take this the wrong way…”

My insides recoil. I’ve touched her too long. I’ve gone too far. My fingers relax around her hand.

“No.” She stands, and her hand holds tight to mine. Her head shakes. “It’s just…” She’s standing ten inches away from me with our clasped hands between us. “You were made to be touched.”

My teeth clench.

If I was made to be touched, I was made to be touched by her. The woman who doesn’t touch. The woman who won’t touch me, not even like this, once she knows just one of my secrets.

“Goodbye, Hailey.” I release her hand, turn, and walk away.

The scars you see are only the beginning.

Hailey Fitzpatrick

When people see me walking on a New York City sidewalk, they think mousey b*tch and stuck-up c*nt. How do I know? It’s NYC. They yell it to my face. I smile to myself and keep walking. After all, I have clients that need me.

I’m wrapping up my first decade as a licensed clinical psychologist. Things are as good as they’ve ever been. Still, I get the itch. The tattoos worked into my skin take the edge off.

When one of my first clients goes on s*icide watch and on of my newest challenges the very ground on which I stand, I seek relief only being blindfolded and bound can bring.

Arlo Judge

Look all you want. Don’t f*cking touch me. No one does.

I’m no longer that little boy who cowers in fear. I’m six three, two hundred fifteen pounds of muscle, and own the largest conglomerates in the States. Still, that boy’s demons live inside me. One in particular looms over my shoulder, always ready to strike.

When I see her, perfectly poised and in command, I think nothing of the beautiful exterior. Then I see the demons lurking in her striking green eyes. I’m intrigued. Hooked. Obsessed.

I need to know how they came to be and how she hides them so well. I need to dig them out and set her free. I never expected that she could do the same for me.

Doctor Fitzpatrick is now accepting new clients!