I hope you’ve had as much fun reading Spandex is for Superheroes as I had writing it (which was a lot!). If you’re inspired now to learn more about Nathan and Brooke’s auspicious beginnings I encourage you to check out their story: Animate Me. You can find purchase links and an unbelievable cute (and short!) trailer on my blog: www.RuthClampettWrites.com

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I’d like to thank the terrific authors on the Shiver team who included me in this anthology…and you, the awesome readers who are doing something really good for St. Jude Children’s Hospital with your purchase of this book. Thank you.

“Scary movies have never really done it for me,” I said with a shrug.

I lay stretched out on the bed in the gigantic hotel suite. Jay and I were spending our honeymoon in a five-star resort in Miami. Having lived in rainy Ireland my entire life, it was a whole other world from what I was used to. I could definitely learn to appreciate all the sunlight. You’d never find yourself suffering from seasonal affective disorder in this part of the world. The sun was everywhere; it infiltrated every nook and cranny.

“Not even The Ring?” Jay asked in a curious voice as he lazily traced circles on my arm. “Everybody gets freaked out by The Ring, especially the original.”

I shook my head. “Nope. It’s like when it comes to horror films, I have this inability to suspend my disbelief. I just burst out laughing when the scary bits start. Plus, the title of The Ring is comical in itself. I feel like the person who came up with it was having their own little private joke at everyone else’s expense.”

Jay gave me a wry but amused look, and shook his head. “One week as my wife, Matilda, and already you’re making ass jokes. I must be a bad influence.” Despite his tone, he seemed pleased by that fact.

I grinned. Every chance he got these days, he was reminding me we were now married. Our wedding was a small affair; it took place in Las Vegas (which to me was glamorous with a capital “G”), and I got to wear a swanktastic dress. In comparison to the women on that Bridezilla show, I was particularly easy to please.

“Well, you’ve hardly let me put mine away since we got to this ritzy place. I’ve almost forgotten there’s such a thing as clothing.”

He feigned a confused look and put on a haughty voice. “Clothing? What is this sorcery of which you speak?”

I giggled, because my husband looked like the ultimate cool dude when you saw him on the street, but behind the bad boy facade lay a bit of an oddball.

His hand slid from my neck and down the center of my chest to rest on my belly. I could tell from the heated stare he was giving me that he was getting turned on, and we’d just had sex a half hour ago. This was verging on the ridiculous. I knew we were on our honeymoon and everything, but I did want to leave the hotel room and take a look around at least once. We were flying back to Vegas tomorrow. Since Jay had a full run of shows booked and our wedding was something of a spontaneous affair, we only had a three-day window in which to honeymoon.

Before my next thought could enter my head, Jay was parting my legs and climbing between them. For a moment I was mesmerized by the way his muscles moved and flexed as he held himself above me, the way his tattoos came to life as though dancing on his skin.

“Jay,” I half sighed, half whimpered, and leveled my hands on his shoulders. “We’re not having sex again. I’m going to be walking funny as it is.”

He cocked a sardonic eyebrow and tilted his head. “I don’t mind you walking funny, Watson. Besides, we’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the day, so it’s a nonissue.”

He started to push inside me, and I couldn’t help the moan that came out. Still, I clenched my thighs around his waist to hinder any further movement. He bit his lip and groaned. “Man, you’ve got strong thighs. Must be all that cycling. My wife is sexy as fuck.”

I shivered at him mentioning the words “wife” and “fuck” in the same sentence in that husky Boston accent of his. But I stayed firm; he wasn’t getting around me on this.

“I’m being serious, Jay. I think we should take a breather. And anyway, I’m starving.”

Bringing his mouth to my neck, he licked a long line from my throat to my jaw, and my pulse ratcheted up a notch. “Hmm, me too.”

My momentary distraction caused me to loosen my thighs, and his hips thrust forward, filling me up in one smooth motion.

“Ah! Jay, stop,” I gasped, my protest weak, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

His deep, satisfied chuckle did all sorts of wonderful butterfly-like things to my stomach. He slowly withdrew and flopped over onto his pillow, his arms thrown up above his head. Then he reached for the phone and quickly dialed room service, ordering enough food to feed a small country.

“What about The Exorcist?” he asked once he’d hung up, returning to our earlier topic of conversation.

“Hilarious, especially when the girl’s head starts to twist around.”

Jay’s mouth formed a flat line as he studied me, perplexed, and I could tell he was thinking real hard. “I bet I could scare you,” he murmured low, his voice giving me momentary shivers.

I rubbed absently at the gooseflesh on my arms. The thing about Jay was that even though he was laid bare to me and all his secrets revealed, there was always a hint of mystery beneath the surface, always the idea that he could be thinking of something far beyond the realms of my paltry imagination. His mind was a kaleidoscope of trickery, and I was still learning how to navigate the terrain.

“That sounds ominous. Do you mean you could scare me because you’re in fact a psycho killer, or scare me with a magic trick?”

His eyes crinkled at the edges, and there was mischief in his gaze. “The latter, obviously.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Your tricks are cool and everything, but they mostly astound and amaze me rather than scare me.”

I loved that Jay was an illusionist. It was so incredibly exciting to live with someone who was constantly coming up with new ways to surprise people. It was also incredibly sexy when he was on stage. However, I was now accustomed to strange things happening, so the fact that I knew it wasn’t real made it hard for me to believe I’d be frightened. If something out of the ordinary occurred, my husband was usually behind it.

“Halloween’s in a few days, too. I think I’m gonna have to come up with a spooky trick just for you.”

“Go ahead,” I told him breezily, “but it will be a waste of time.”

His grin spread wide, and devilry played on his features. “Oh, yeah? Care to make a wager on that?”

“That I won’t be scared? Sure,” I said, and presented my hand. He took it in his, his thumb brushing along my pulse as he pulled me closer. “What do I get if I win?”

Jay’s eyes went dark, his voice low as he asked, “What do you want?”

I chewed on my lip, thinking about it. Finally, I responded, “How about if I win, you have to let me choose your stage outfits for a whole week, and you can’t argue with my choices?”

I managed the wardrobe for Jay’s magic shows in Las Vegas, which was where we’d usually be if we weren’t currently honeymooning, and he was often difficult when it came to what I chose for him. I wanted to put him in designer suits and those sexy V-neck shirts, but he always wanted to wear plain old combats and vests. He said a V-neck was a man vag, and he wasn’t going to be caught dead in one. I could wrangle him into a suit on occasion, but those occasions were few and far between. Apparently, you sweat like a motherfucker in a suit on a stage (his words, not mine.) I was also dying to get him into a Dixie bow. Don’t ask why — it just needed to happen.