By this time, the giggles were bubbling out of me. “Poor Courtney,” I said. “I can’t believe she walked in on that.”

“Poor Courtney?” he asked me, pretending to be outraged. “What about me and my poor burned penis?”

“I’ll make it up to you two later,” I promised him before asking him to finish his story.

“So, Buster got some ravioli out of the deal. I cleaned up what he didn’t, made some peanut butter toast, and found a “Kiss the Cook” apron to hide my red penis. The rest of the night was all about you, while I let Big Red rest.”

It all made perfect sense now, and I decided it was time to fess up about my little mishap while he was gone. By the time I was finished telling him my itchy nose story, we were both laughing hysterically.

“Thank goodness Court didn’t walk in and see me, too. We could have scarred her for life.”

“It seems to me,” Sam said, “that the next time I tie you up, I had better release you before leaving the room.”

“Next time?” I asked him, already excited by the thought.

He answered me simply with a wink, and his naughtiest, crooked grin.

Finish the series with Courtney and Seth’s story, Faking Changes. Available HERE.

FAKING CHANGES: CHAPTER 1 SNEAK PEEK

I heard his heavy steps in the hallway and curled in on myself in an attempt to make my body as small as possible. The familiar desire to disappear crept over me. When someone asks what super-power we would choose if we were to be bestowed with one, I don’t even have to think about my answer. I would pick the ability to be invisible, and I would hide.

His stomps echoed in my ears, and I knew he was coming closer to my bedroom. I tried to conceal myself under my threadbare blanket, but I knew he would see me there. In the past, I had attempted to hide in the closet or under my bed, but he always found me. The thrill of searching for me, slightly delaying the inevitable, only served to make him more excited.

From experience, I knew that his extra excitement manifested itself in even more roughness. On the nights when I attempted to hide, he was particularly brutal. When he eventually discovered my hiding spot, he would forcefully yank me to him by my wrist or ankle. As much as every instinct within me screamed to get out of my bed, I knew that I was better off to stay here and quietly endure what was coming. The more I fought, the more he liked it.