The Unforgettable Kind

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The Unforgettable Kind Page 29

by Melanie Munton


  ***

  “You want me to what?” Sam screams a couple of hours later as we’re lying in bed.

  Well, one of us is no longer in bed. She shot up the second she heard my simple request, and is now pacing my bedroom floor in outrage.

  “Take a leave of absence from work,” I repeat, nonplussed by her reaction. I was prepared for it. “This situation is serious, Sam, and I want you to stay here where I can keep you safe.”

  “Keep me prisoner, you mean.”

  How can the woman infuriate me so much and at the same time look so fucking delectable? The faded Van Halen T-shirt of mine that she loves to wear swallows her delicate form. Her hair is piled on top of her head, held together by a pencil. Her heels and work clothes sit abandoned near my bedroom door, and her purse sits on my kitchen table. There’s something pleasantly domestic about having her in my apartment, looking so at home and comfortable.

  Okay, maybe comfortable is a bit of a stretch, considering what’s transpired tonight. But still. I like seeing her belongings invading my space.

  “I’m not trying to keep you prisoner—”

  “And I’m not going to let some jerkoff low lives stop me from living my life,” she protests adamantly. “They’ve already run me out of my home, Kade. I won’t let them run me out of my job, too.”

  That gives me pause. Knowing Sam as well as I do, I have to consider how disturbing this entire situation must be for her. Not just because her life might very well be in danger, but because her freedom and independence have been disrupted, her privacy violated. She’s used to being self-sufficient, and she doesn’t appreciate having to depend on someone else, even if that someone is me. I think back to the night in my apartment eight years ago, when my injury made me feel helpless and all she wanted to do was be there for me. She tried to help, and I resisted, pushing her away.

  I won’t let her return the favor.

  I push up from the bed and grab her hand, forcing her to stand in front of me. “I understand. Believe me, I do. But I need to protect you.” I continue when she opens her mouth to respond. “Not because you can’t take care of yourself, but because I need that. So just let me. I mean, what would you have done tonight if I hadn’t been there, and whoever threw that brick had decided to barge through your door?”

  Her eyes fly to mine. “That’s the point. You could have gotten hurt, too. I’m not the only one who’s been threatened, Kade. They’ve already singled you out. So, if you’re still going to work, then so am I. If you’re protecting me from taking risks, who’s protecting you when you take the same ones?”

  Her words make me melt.

  I lean down and press my forehead against hers, inhaling her cherry scent. “I can’t be with you every second of the day, no matter how much I want to be. And it’s driving me insane to think of something happening to you when I’m not around.”

  “There’s no point in playing the ‘what if’ game.”

  I tip her chin up. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. But we have to be sensible here. Someone knows about this story, they know you’re behind it, and they know where to find you. Or at least they did. I want you to stay here with me until we figure all of this out.”

  “I can stay with Jasmine.”

  Her words slice through me, bothering me on an unholy level. “What? You don’t want to stay with me?”

  Does she think I can’t keep her safe?

  She purses her lips. “We’d kind of be living together. I don’t think we need to rush anything.”

  A humorless laugh erupts from my chest. “I’d say rushing things is the least of our concerns right now.”

  “So, am I going to have a curfew now?” Derision drips from her voice. “I have to check in with you every hour on the dot?”

  “I’ll settle for just keeping me updated on where you’re going and with whom at all times.”

  I say it as a joke, but I’m mostly serious. The knowledge that she’ll have Cris’s guys also watching out for her helps marginally.

  “How about this? You agree to stay here and allow me to be your shadow, and I’ll give you the pass key to the building’s sauna so you can use it as much as you want.”

  Her eyes light up as I knew they would. The sauna was my ace in the hole if my sweet talking skills weren’t enough to sway her.

  “Is there a whirlpool?” she asks excitedly.

  “There is.” I lower my mouth to whisper in her ear, “It goes all the way up to 106 degrees.”

  She moans and I smile. The woman loves her bubble baths and Jacuzzis.

  She leans her head back. “Fine. I’ll stay. Are the orgasms free at least?”

  “Who said you’re getting any of those?”

  She rubs herself against my growing erection, making her point. She glances down at my pants tent. “I think he’s spoken.”

  I swing her up into my arms and launch her toward the mattress. Her laughter is like music to my ears after this shit night. “Let’s see what he has to say, shall we?”

  We lose ourselves in each other for the rest of the night. It’s far better than focusing on what tomorrow holds for us. Every time those thoughts intrude on our small bubble of paradise, I immediately shove them away. That’s what tomorrow is for.

  Tonight, I focus on nothing except having Sam safe, warm, and satiated in my bed.

  And in my arms.

  Where she’s forever going to stay.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  “I Just Want to Make Love to You”

  by Foghat

  Sam

  The only reason I’ve been able to get any sleep at all this week is because of Kade and his insistence on keeping my mind completely focused on him—and wherever his mouth is.

  I have to hand it to the man. His methods are effective.

  And yes, this sauna helps.

  If I’d thought news of what happened last week at my condo would stay a secret, I would have been severely disappointed. Everyone knows. The details of what the note attached to the brick said were withheld, however, so no one else is aware of the connection between the attack and the cheating ref story. I haven’t publicly commented on the incident or the Greenbaum interview since that night, nor have I “dropped” the story. I haven’t done any further digging, but I’m also not letting it go until the truth is unearthed.

  Which has resulted in complete paranoia, from every person in my life.

  Security at the studio has been beefed up. Marcus and Grant are acting like my protective older brothers, while John and Mike are acting like my overprotective fathers. My mom, dad, and Drake are all freaking out, begging me to take some time off and go on a vacation somewhere far away. Jaz suggested going off the grid completely for a while, maybe somewhere down in Mexico. Kade wasn’t lying last week, either. He is totally being my shadow. And wouldn’t you know it? The Super Bowl is right around the corner, and I still haven’t heard anything about the commentating job.

  So, basically…life is just fabulous.

  At least while I’m sitting in this sauna, it is.

  Maybe I’m even getting a little paranoid, too, because I swear I’ve felt someone watching me when I go out in public. As if I’m being followed. And considering the pictures that were sent to me, of me, that’s entirely possible. As much as I don’t want to admit his shadowing is necessary, I do feel a thousand times safer with Kade by my side. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with us after all of this is over and the perceived threat is gone—will I make living with him a permanent thing?—but I’m not worrying about that right now.

  As a matter of fact, what I’m doing right now is sitting in the sauna he promised me, waiting for him to come home. He remained at the studio tonight after I was finished with my own work to tape the live Halftime Report for the Orange Bowl that the University of Florida is playing in. He made me swear to come straight back to his apartment without any detours.

  Like a good little girl.

  His buildin
g is swanky and in a posh area of downtown. But because there are only six total units, I don’t have to worry about the sauna being overly crowded with other tenants. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone else use this thing since I’ve been staying here.

  The sauna is a decent-sized room, with wooden benches lining all four walls and a ground-in whirlpool placed directly in the center. I’m sitting in the far corner of the room, where two of the wooden benches connect, in my bikini with Kade’s fluffy bath towel spread out beneath me. My head is reclined and legs outstretched as the sound of the bubbling whirlpool drifts through the room. The eucalyptus-scented mist rises around me, engulfing me in a cocoon of relaxation. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on my skin—one I welcome—and the stray tendrils of hair kissing my bare shoulders are damp.

  I let the temporary peace wash over me.

  That is, until I hear the creak of the door as it opens.

  My ears perk up instantly, my senses going on high alert. I look for further movement across the room, but the mist has gotten so thick that I can’t see six inches in front of my face. When whoever just stepped into the room doesn’t say anything, all of my internal alarms start blaring. A thought registers in the back of my mind that I’ve seen something like this in a cheesy horror movie.

  But this is no movie.

  This is real damn life.

  And in this otherwise empty room, I have no weapon to defend myself with. Although I do have years of self-defense classes working for me, so this person is about to get throat-punched if they lay one finger on me.

  My eyes are glued to the cloud of swirling mist, so I see the moment a tall, looming dark figure appears through the fog.

  Oh, my God.

  My fear ratchets up about a thousand notches. Is this the same person who threw a brick at my window and took those pictures of me? Does he work for Esposito? He must have followed me, knowing where Kade is and that I’d be in here all alone.

  Oh, I don’t think so.

  I will not die in a freaking sauna in my bikini. The notion just insults me.

  Some of that courage dwindles when the figure moves toward me. I’ve unknowingly trapped myself in the corner, but maybe if I take a running leap at him I could knock him back into the whirlpool. I know how to drop my shoulder and football tackle a person. Might as well put that knowledge to good use, right?

  I rise to my feet, nerves jittering as I prepare myself for action. Then I jump when something rams into the bench not far from where I’m standing. My heart races. The loud thud is followed by a sharp male curse.

  My body deflates with relief.

  “Kade?”

  “Sam?” He steps forward, his face finally coming into view. “You okay?’

  “Holy mother.” I clutch my chest where my heart is thumping a staccato rhythm. “Why didn’t you say anything? Were you trying to lurk around like a stalker and scare me to death?”

  His answering grin is sheepish. His tie is already loosened, a sight I’ve come to find comforting because it means he’s done working for the day and is ready to spend the rest of the evening with me.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t sure it was you. I didn’t want to start talking dirty to the wrong woman.”

  I let my body relax, allowing my limbs to return to their languid state. “Is that right? What kind of dirty talk were you thinking? I’d like to reciprocate.”

  He splays his hand over my chest, his fingers grazing the swell of my breasts, and guides me back down onto the bench. I go willingly because he’s got that look in his eyes. The one that says he’s on a mission.

  “The way I’m feeling right now, baby,” he grates out, lowering himself to his knees, his gaze focused on the apex of my thighs, “you’re not going to have a fucking clue what you’re saying. Or screaming. Hell, you won’t even be able to think by the time I’m done with you.”

  I blink, taken aback by the furious intent in his voice. I wonder what has him so worked up, but my curiosity doesn’t last long. Not when he pushes my bikini bottoms aside and dives right in, plastering his mouth against my lips.

  Bliss.

  His tongue massages my clit with unbelievable skill before entering me, and I positively melt. I’m gasping for air, but it’s not the thick mist surrounding us that’s making it hard to breathe. Kade’s mouth is relentless in its pursuit of my pleasure. I’m squirming on the bench, his hands are holding me down. A fleeting thought pops up somewhere in my mind and breaks through the incoherent babbling coming from my mouth.

  Anyone with a pass key could walk in here and catch us.

  That just makes it better.

  I’ve never considered myself an exhibitionist. But the idea of someone stumbling in on the two of us and the image we’re creating—Kade on his knees with his face buried between my legs—is so erotic and wickedly naughty that it pushes me over the edge. My orgasm bursts forth in an explosion of sensation and strangled moans. I clutch Kade’s hair and ride my climax out on his face. By the time the waves of ecstasy have dissipated and I catch my breath, I’m drained of energy and Kade’s shirt is sticking to him, his forehead dotted with sweat.

  He eases back, his hazel eyes searing me. “That was—”

  “Amazing,” I finish for him.

  His eyes trail down my sweat-slicked body, laid out like a sacrificed virgin on the altar for him. “I need to get you upstairs.”

  I glance down at his lap. “We can take care of that problem right here, you know.”

  Holy hell, did I really just say that?

  I never knew I’d be into public sex.

  He pushes to his feet and pulls me with him. “Nope. Need privacy and maybe a soundproof room for what I’m about to do to you. Plus, my bed is more comfortable than this bench.”

  I grin and wrap the towel around me. Then he bends down and throws me over his shoulder.

  “Hey!”

  He exits the sauna like this and heads for the elevators. With me draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  I sigh, resigned to his caveman-ness. “Is this really necessary?”

  He grunts. “You weren’t moving fast enough, and I’m impatient. Deal with it.”

  “Controlling much?”

  He spanks me. “You love it.”

  “Only in the bedroom.”

  “Still. You love it.”

  I smile, watching his butt move in his dress slacks. He’s right. I do love it.

  For the rest of the night he shows me just how controlling he can get in the bedroom. And I enjoy every single mind-blowing minute. He takes me over and over again with frenzied urgency, like he’ll never have the chance to again. It reminds me of the danger hanging over our heads, but I refuse to let our circumstances taint this moment. I don’t know what exactly is fueling this raw intensity in him tonight, but it’s the absolute best form of distraction from all the things that may or may not be coming our way.

  Just as we’re drifting off to sleep in our mutual state of sheer exhaustion, he traces his thumb over my lip, rousing me. I break out of my sleepy daze to see his face twisted in a mask of vulnerability.

  “Do you remember back in college when you told me that I was the worst kind of boy?”

  My mouth spreads into a warm smile. “Yes.”

  “Do you remember what you said that worst kind was?”

  I run my finger over his five o’clock shadow. He nuzzles into my touch. He clearly doesn’t understand that there’s no part of our entire relationship that I don’t remember every single second of.

  “The unforgettable kind,” I whisper.

  His eyes search mine. “Did you ever try to forget me, Sam? Did you ever want to?”

  My heart thumps painfully in my chest. I’ll never feel comfortable thinking about the darkest times of my life when he wasn’t there—because he wasn’t there. He may not want to hear my answer, but the days of lying to each other or hiding the truth are long gone. If we finally want to make this work, we have to be honest with one anothe
r.

  “Yes. I was still trying to, up until the day you walked into my office.”

  His face falls.

  “But I’m lying here next to you because I never could forget about you. You may have walked out of my life, Kade, but you never really left me.”

  I’m rewarded with his blinding smile before I fall back under the spell of his kisses.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “Love Will Keep Us Alive”

  by Eagles

  Sam

  Two weeks later, I’m agitated as hell.

  My life is in this frustrating nebulous limbo and I freaking hate it. All has been quiet on the note-sending, brick-throwing side of things. I haven’t received any more threats, nor have I pursued the cheating ref ring story. Mostly.

  But neither has anyone else.

  Mike sent off my research to the NFL commissioner almost two months ago, and there hasn’t been any action taken whatsoever. Those referees haven’t been questioned, suspended, nothing. I may have been censored, but by God, I will not let this kind of injustice stand. No one is about to brush this under the damn rug. Not with the sport I love.

  Whoa. Cool yo jets, woman.

  Eh, screw that. I need answers.

  I barge into Mike’s office unannounced and uninvited, but I don’t care.

  “What are you about to scold me for now, Samantha?” he asks without removing his eyes from his computer screen.

  “Have you heard anything from the commissioner yet? It’s been, like, seven weeks.”

  “No, nothing yet.”

  I slump into one of the chairs across from his desk. “What are they waiting for? They have more than enough evidence to take legal action.”

  He removes his reading glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “These investigations take time. The league is not about to take on something this massive without doing every single thing by the book. It will only look worse in the press if they don’t. And you know the kind of press this sort of thing will bring.”

  “Yeah, we’re going to eat those bastards alive because they’re getting paid to call games unfairly. And I want to know what the people in charge are going to do about it. You need to get on their asses, Mike.”

 

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