Hi all! It came to my attention that I may have seemed to disappear from the fanfic realm these past few weeks... especially after promising to post a chapter of my new fic. With that being said, I wanted to say I'm so sorry for not following through on my promise! This past month, one of the many things I had been dealing with was moving to a new home, which unfortunately took up a lot of my time. Another issue is that I'm still in the process of moving and unpacking, and it doesn't help that while I have my outline of my story down, I don't have much of it finished yet. (Insert grimacing emoji...)

Still, I want to make it up to everyone! Allow me to give you a little teaser into my first chapter of this next fic. Hopefully it will entice you enough to keep reading once I actually do start posting. I may also be posting chapters on a weekly basis instead of every few days for the sake of having time for it. Once again, I appreciate your patience and I hope to make you all proud. Enjoy this excerpt!

Earlier in the morning, as Sam woke to the sun, her earthy eyes gazed on the glowing soft outline of her boyfriend, a handsome visage that brightened her weekends with every minute she was with him. Did today have to be Sunday? It meant only a precious few hours were left before Charles would be forced to take Samara back to her apartment, unable to touch each other again until Friday night. 'I feel like I'm leaving my Hades behind in the Underworld,' she pondered. 'At least its only a week and not two seasons of the year.'

Sam started to shuffle her way out of the covers, but his overhanging arm at her waist suddenly tightened from the movement, pinning her against him. She protested with a small moan, testing to see if Charles was awake or snuggling her in his sleep. Two kisses on her neck answered her question. "Where do you think you're going, Bunty?" His sexy voice was still half-tired, straining to wake up.

"I need to shower, Mr. Jones," she hummed back. "Now may I please go?"

"No," he impishly groaned. "If you go now, I'll be cold and all alone."

"Charles," she turned to wrestle away from him to no avail. His lips pressed to hers and started exploring her mouth. His teeth dragged at her bottom lip as he pressed his body close to hers. "No, Charles," she chided. "I need to take a shower. Besides, you're still too tired."

"Nonsense," he weakly argued. "I'm not tired, Miss Young, you're tired." Sam kissed his forehead and slipped from his arms and out of bed. Limply, his eyes shut once more, dragging him back to sleep. These cute little quirks that Sam had learned about Charles made for quite the ride in their hidden relationship. Anytime they were together on the weekends, the touches they cherished were abundant between them. While Charles remained reserved with public displays of affection, behind the closed door of his penthouse he turned into a flirt, happily kissing Sam at nearly every moment possible. Even in the grips of much-needed rest, he would not stop trying to lavishly caress her with his love.

But Sam knew better now. Maybe he would start something now, but later he would be gripping the bridge of his nose all day, wishing he had also taken the time to get some more sleep. And because he deserved those respites as much as she was happy to be loved by him, Sam had now drawn the lines for him in the sand, giving him permission to think for himself as well. Were these moments so little, though? It did take her almost a year to learn about those private habits, and to her, that was already speaking volumes about their strengthening ties. But as Sam took her shower, and reminisced those early excursions compared to now, she still had so many questions about Charles. Does he have family other than his mother? What was she like? What about his father? Did he have any friends in Wales? What was it like for him growing up?

Questions dwindled and echoed in her mind as Sam got out of the shower and dried off. She opened her recently designated "girlfriend drawer" and retrieved her wide-toothed brush to untangle her hair. It still made her smile to think that Charles surprised her one day by showcasing newly vacant spaces he created in the closet, the bathroom, and in his chest of drawers next to the bed. At first, Sam didn't fully comprehend why he did it until he presented a new toothbrush and a copy of his key. "I know it isn't moving in…" he smiled shyly, "but now you won't have to keep carrying a bag when you come to visit." The drawers were filled the next weekend with anything Sam needed.

She counted the months from when they had officially started dating as she brushed her hair. 'Huh,' she thought, 'it's been ten months now… almost eleven… is that something couples celebrate?' She replaced the brush and searched the bathroom for something to wear. The shirt that Charles had worn at the office was left on the counter, practically begging her to wear it, so she obliged that fantasy without argue. As she snuck back into the bedroom, she crossed over to the chest and dug out a pair of panties to slip on. As if her presence was a siren's call, Charles turned over in the bed and tried to reach her wrist. "Samara," he whined, "come back to bed." Sam avoided his reach and left him begging. "Samara…" His hand grasped at the air before him to no avail.

"Sorry Charles. I'd love to come to bed, but if I do, then we'll fall back asleep after being passionate and waste our last day together." Charles pouted his lip a little. Sam's point was too well-made for these mornings. "And besides, I need to get Bowser out in a little bit anyway. Or do you want me to make breakfast?"

"I'll take him outside," he volunteered. "I'm in the mood for your cooking."

"I'll get started then," she grinned, heading to the stairs.

"Dressed like that? Oh Samara, you tease me…"

She grinned as she called back. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about." Charles licked and bit at his bottom lip as he watched her disappear. He'll have to keep his desires at bay for a little longer…