The Passionate Beginning by Marcus and Misty Oakwood
Rob and I used to set the bed on fire.
Now, after ten years and two kids, we’re both exhausted—and it’s definitely not from all the sex.
The alumni weekend is exactly what we need to reconnect and rekindle the flame that used to burn so hot.
Yet, it seems life has other plans.
Delayed flights and repeated interruptions are just the tip of the iceberg.
With everything going wrong, getting what we both want—each other—seems an impossible feat.
But, with the attraction simmering between us so strong, I’m not going down without a fight.
Targeted Age Group:: adult audiences only
Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 5 – NC-17
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I'm not the kind of person who you look and think, hey, I bet she writes dirty books. My co-workers, the other moms from school, they'd all be shocked if they knew I was writing these books with my husband.
Marcus and I got the idea for these books when our kids were finally old enough to sleep through the night. They'd both been down for two hours without waking up. He and I looked at each other when we got into bed, and I calculated it in my head…we hadn't made love in months.
It was tough reconnecting with him that night. The door was locked, but I was still really distracted. We were all elbows and foreheads, bashing into each other. The sexiness factor wasn't there. Then we decided to download a steamy romance book from Amazon, and we skipped to the good parts, and alternated reading pages to each other, and there was one scene that just got both of us all revved up. All the distractions left our heads and we connected for the first time in a long time.
And we thought… well, why not try to write stories like that? Especially ones that feature married couples who need to… rekindle the fire? So many steamy stories with married couples have them bringing a third person into the room, or going to the basement with the whips and chains, or turning into a centaur or something. Hey, if that's what you like to read, more power to you. I can recommend some books you might like.
But that's not what Rekindling the Fire is about. The husband and wife in every story have their sights firmly set on one another. They're both still sexually attracted to each other—they've just been missing connections, and missing out on the passion, for a while.
If you haven't read our books yet, let me give you a word of warning. Yes, they don't cheating in them. Yes, the sex is between married people. But they're nowhere near "clean." There's a lot of explicit, dirty, HOT sex between the covers.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
The couples in each book in the Rekindling the Fire series all have a little of my husband and me in them. But there are also dashes here and there of our old high school crushes, characters in movies… maybe even a couple of our friends or coworkers—or at least the fantasy versions of them!
I arrived at the coffee shop ten minutes before we were scheduled to meet, half expecting him to cancel at the last minute or simply not show up. The coffee shop had a long wooden table, easily able to seat sixteen to twenty people. I planned sit there and spread out my papers and folders, the way I liked to make plans for classes like this.
But Rob was already there, sitting at one of the small round tables next to the window. The midwinter morning sunlight illuminated a neat stack of papers in front of him. He was not only on time, but had also prepared a long list of questions that we had to answer when we performed Monday’s experiment.
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t really expect this.” I dropped my backpack on the floor and sat in the chair next to him so I could see his notes.
“What, just because I play football, I don’t take college seriously?”
“I didn’t—” Then I stopped. “Well, to be honest, no, I didn’t think you would take this seriously.”
“Because I’m on the football team?”
I paused. “Not just that. Also because you’re so good-looking.”
He blinked hard. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeah. You’d flirt with me and look deeply into my eyes and keep wearing those tight shorts that show off how big your dick is to make me believe you’re interested in me.”
“How big my—” He straightened up in his chair.
“Then you’d make a bunch of excuses and give me sob stories about why you won’t be able to finish your part of the work.”
Rob coughed. “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never done that before, Rob. Some girl with braces and thick glasses in high school? Maybe she offered to write an essay for you? Maybe you grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes”—at that point, I grabbed Rob’s hand and did just that—“and said, ‘My darling Martha, I never noticed before how beautiful your eyes are,’ and she melted, and the next day you had a paper that got you an a+ in English Lit.”
Rob squeezed my hand back, leaned forward in his chair, and then kissed me, right there in the coffee shop.
I was in shock.
Then the shock gave way to electricity. I felt everything course through me. His lips were so soft and he smelled so good, a combination of oranges and spices, peppery and citrusy. As I was breathing his scent in, his tongue started exploring my mouth, gently at first, but then more urgently, and he reached up and held the back of my head, lightly, but firm enough that I knew he wanted this, that he didn’t see me as a girl he wanted to use for a grade.
We broke from the kiss, and I had to catch my breath. His hand was still on the back of my head.
“How was that, Lynette?” he asked softly.
“That was, um.” I struggled to complete a thought. “That was unexpected.”
“So I’m trying to get you to do my work for me?”
“Okay, that’s fine, I get it. You’ve been that girl in braces and thick glasses, right?”
I paused. Yes, things changed after I got contacts and after my braces came off, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’ve just seen it too many times.”
“I guess I’ll have to take you on a real date to prove I like you.” He leaned in again and kissed me softly on the lips, just one short but delicious kiss.
I swallowed hard and tried to keep my voice even. “Maybe you’ll have to show me you’re serious in class. Then after the semester, you can take me on a real date.”
Rob shook his head gently. “Then it’ll be summer. I can’t wait that long.” He tilted his head forward slightly so that our foreheads were touching. “Maybe we should ask to switch lab partners.”
My body had a visceral reaction to that suggestion. No. That wasn’t what I wanted. I still wanted him as a lab partner. I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to sit together on the sofa in the dorm’s common room, the heat coming off his body and soaking directly into mine. I wanted to watch the concentration in his bold, ice blue eyes as he makes a precise incision with a scalpel and then holds open the frog’s chest cavity while I carefully pull the heart from its body.
What can I say? I’ve always been a sucker for classic romantic gestures. Like mutual dissection of an amphibian.
Actually, what I really wanted was to have sex with him, right here in the coffee shop. Dirty, raw, rip-my-panties-off sex.
I’d never had this kind of impulse before. His hand on the back of my head might have freaked me out ordinarily, but I could feel the intent in his fingers, the pulses of desire that traveled from my head down to the tips of my toes.
I tilted my head up, not answering him about getting another lab partner, and open-mouth kissed him. He was a little surprised that I reciprocated, but warmed up instantly and kissed me back. I wanted him to pick me up out of this chair and put me, roughly, face down on that long table in the middle of the coffee shop, hike my dress up above my waist, pull my cute black panties down, and put his big hard cock inside me. All the patrons and the baristas would gawk at us—some of them in horror, some of them in arousal, most of them with a mixture of the two emotions on their faces.
I stopped kissing him just long enough to say, “You need to fuck me,” and then I kissed him again, hard. He moved his right hand to my shoulder, and put his left hand firmly on my hip. I scooted forward in the chair so our legs were touching. He kissed the side of my face, then started kissing my neck.
“Did you hear me?” I moaned. “You think I just go around telling every guy I meet for coffee that they need to fuck me?”
“All right,” he said. “I’m on it.” And he kissed me again, firm and with tongue—scrumptious.
We broke from the kiss. I stood up, then bent over to pick up my backpack. He got up too, and put his hand on the small of my back, and then moved his hand down to my butt. I leaned back into his palm. When I straightened up, he stepped aside and quickly packed his papers and grabbed his bag. I turned to walk out the door, wondering where we could go to have sex. He took my hand in his, and I stopped.
“Not out there.” His voice was rough-edged and raw. “Come here.”
He led me down a side hallway, one I had noticed but had only seen employees use. Around the corner, a black door with a silver handle said staff only. He turned the handle and it opened easily.
We went into a stock room, and a fairly large one, about twelve feet by fourteen feet, larger than the dorm room that Jenna and I shared. Stacks of paper towels, toilet paper, plastic flatware, and straws were stuffed on two green plastic-and-metal racks on the back wall. The loud whir of industrial fans was stultifying. Two leather chairs were in front of the racks, and Rob released my hand, put his other hand on the small of my back again, and steered me toward them.
“I recognize those chairs,” I said. “Those were in the coffee shop last week. Aren’t they nearly brand new?”
“The manager didn’t like the way they looked.”
“How do you know that?”
Rob grinned. “My roommate opens on Wednesdays and Fridays. He’s got to get rid of them next week.” He pointed to the chair on the left, with its back facing out. “Go stand in front of that one and take off your panties.”
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