NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1)
Page 7
He looked at her with a wry smile and chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ali, you are one of a kind. You know that?”
“No, Sam, I don’t know that. Actually, I’ve been told I’m nothing special.” She liked this playful side of him, his easygoing personality calming. And refreshing. “Oh, and I was recently told that I’m unusually skittish. But not one of a kind, no.”
He set his beer down with a frown and reached for her, lifting her up onto the kitchen island like she weighed next to nothing. “Who said you were nothing special? Tell me. I’ll hunt him down and make him sorry he was ever born.”
His mouth was doing magical things to that sensitive spot on her neck, yet the words he spoke weren’t lost on her. Placing her hands in his hair, she tugged lightly, pulling his mouth up to hers for a kiss. “You’ll slay my dragon for me, Sam?” she whispered, against his lips.
“Hell, yes. If you promise not to put a cat collar on me. I walk into a room like any other normal person, Ali. It’s like your expecting the boogeyman to jump out at you.”
His mouth locked onto hers fully then, his spicy taste intoxicating as he swept his tongue across hers and stepped closer into her, letting her feel his response to their quickly escalating make out session. He reached for her semi sheer t-shirt, covering a matching bra, and slowly pulled the hem up, his fingers cool on the hot skin of her belly.
“And you are special, Ali. Okay?” His serious words barely penetrated her hazy, lustful thoughts and he pulled his mouth back an inch. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Don’t ever let anyone tell you different. Got it?”
She looked up into his sincere gray eyes. “Got it.”
“Good. Now what do we have here? Hmm, I’ve never seen a bra in that particular shade of green before.” Her revealing, cheetah print demi-bra, now exposed with her t-shirt pushed up above her breasts, made him smile and he told her so.
Exactly how many bra’s had the man seen? “The boutique called this color avocado smoothie. I thought it was cute.”
“It is cute. Makes me hard as hell. Makes me hungry for guacamole, too.” Leaning down, he nipped at the hardened tip, his tongue running along the black lace edge for a brief second. “Let’s go get Mexican. I know a place up the coast a mile or so. Great fish tacos.” He was pulling her shirt back into place as he spoke.
“Wait. You want to go eat? Now?” At his nod, she sputtered. “But... I’m sitting here with my boobs out,” she gestured around her, “on a counter that has been used more for foreplay than cooking. And you were already rounding first base, by the way.”
He laughed and lifted her down. “Feed me, woman. Please. I promise you, it’ll be worth it. You don’t want to be around me when I’m hungry. It ain’t pretty, babe.”
Ali pouted. “You’re a fun hater, Sam Gleeson. You hate fun.” Teasing him, she grabbed a tattered sweatshirt off the back of a rattan bar stool and slipped her feet into flip flops. Suddenly, she looked up at him with excitement. “Hey, do they have homemade chips and salsa?”
“Now, what kinda man would I be if I took you to a Mexican joint with shitty food? Of course, they have homemade chips and salsa. And top shelf tequila that will kick your ass. I’m parked in your driveway, so lets go out the front.”
Sam nodded in that direction and she grabbed the hand he held out to her, quickly locking the front door securely behind her with the other. It was then that she realized her selfishness. “Oh, Sam. I’m so sorry. I forgot to ask you how your day was.” God, she sucked at relationships. Or whatever the hell this was.
A wrinkle creased his forehead and Ali reached up to rub it with her index finger, wanting to take away whatever stress and worry this man had.
“It started off really great and it’s ending really great. That’s all that matters.”
***
Whoever invented pomegranate margarita’s should be anointed to sainthood. The colorful frozen concoction had a way of making everything right with the world. Temporarily, at least. Her nearly numb extremities and mellow mood could testify.
“This is a very nice car.” Ali ran her hands along the contoured seat, the butter colored leather soft under her touch as they headed back down the coast after their casual dinner. The sleek sports car was the color of molten steel, nearly the same shade as his eyes, and Ali tried not to wince when she thought of how much it must have cost.
“Thanks,” Sam said, as if it was no big deal. “The day after I bought it, Pete peed all over the backseat. And I mean, all over.”
“Oh, my God.” She glanced behind her then back at him, his profile perfect in the low, late evening light. “What did you do?”
He looked over at her as he expertly navigated through the traffic on the busy coastal highway, not far from home. She noticed the way his strong, tanned hand draped over the steering wheel and Ali thought it was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Except for when he was completely naked, that was.
“I called the dealership and had them come pick it up. They detailed it that afternoon and brought it back to me before I left the office.”
“No, I mean, what did you do to Pete?” Ali’s stomach bottomed out at the thought of the poor puppy, still potty training. Danny would’ve cracked some ribs if it had been his car.
“Nothing. He tried to tell me but it was too late. I was on the interstate and there was nowhere to pull over. Sometimes he can make it another ten minutes, sometimes only ten seconds.” Sam shrugged. “That was one of those times.”
Ali looked around the car in amazement. With all the bells and whistles, it had to have cost him close to six figures and when his dog had peed all over the rich leather interior, Sam hadn’t lost his temper. He hadn’t screamed or yelled. Or hit. Instead he had praised the helpless animal and paid to have the car cleaned. It was a response unlike anything Ali had become accustomed to in the last six years, and the memory of exactly when her life had taken the sharp right turn toward violence flashed in her mind. It had been her wedding night and she’d walked out of the bathroom of a luxury hotel suite wearing a sexy, white lace nightgown with a super short hem and matching panties, and Danny had advised her she could stand to lose ten pounds.
“Because a size six is too big?” Ali had sharply replied, stung by his words. Lightning quick, he’d snaked out an arm, his fingers digging deeply into her jaw where he gripped it in a painfully tight hold. Ali hadn’t even seen it coming. “Because I told you so,” had been his only response before he released her with a disgusted shove and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Stunned, she’d stood in the middle of the opulent suite, her mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. And a few minutes later, when Danny had wiped the shocked tears from her cheeks and apologized, promising never to do it again, Ali had believed him. Several months later, when he’d left angry purple bruises on her arms because his favorite blue dress shirt was still at the dry cleaners, she’d believed him again. The next time, she’d stopped believing him. And the time after that, he’d stopped apologizing and making promises they both knew he wouldn’t keep.
Sam, mistaking her lingering silence as judgment, reached for her hand where it rested against the center console. “It was an accident, Ali. The car is back to brand new now. You would’ve never known if I hadn’t told you.”
Ali turned to look at him, squeezing his hand in wonder. “You really are a good guy.”
Hearing the hint of a question, and of genuine surprise, in her tone, his brow raised and he gave a quick laugh. “I do my best.”
“No, you actually are. You’re a good person. For real.”
His eyes shuttered slightly. “Not always, Ali. I’ve done plenty of bad things in my life.”
She remembered his bio, word for word. Sniper in the 75th Regiment. But he didn’t know she knew that about him. And she couldn’t ask him about his past or why he would say such a thing, because he might then, in turn, ask Ali about her past.
He seemed taken aback by the statement. Uncomfortable with the compliment. But Ali wanted him to know that he was a good egg, as her mama would say. And he didn’t deserve to be tricked or manipulated. He deserved to be loved, to be treasured by a woman who would never knowingly hurt him.
“Well, you’re not gonna think I’m so kind when we get back to my place. I spent way too much time today thinking up all sorts of sordid and dirty things to do to you tonight. Your opinion might change come morning.”
His flirty threat sent an excited shiver down her spine, chasing away her somber thoughts. “Your place, huh? Do you have something special there you want to show me? A closet full of ropes and blindfolds? Your own personal den of inequity, maybe?”
His mouth dropped. “No, I have to get Pete. But now I’m thinking your ideas might be a hell of a lot better than the ones I had in mind.” His grin was downright sinful. “I like where you’re going with this, though. Tell me more.”
Laughing, Ali made a face and shrugged innocently. “Just curious about these dirty things you speak of. I can’t help it that you look so good in your birthday suit. Besides, I have no idea what I’m saying. It’s clearly the margarita’s talking.”
It was Sam’s turn to laugh. “You only had one.”
“And obviously I can’t hold my liquor. Look where I ended up last night, after only two glasses of wine.”
“And you’re gonna end up there again, babe. I’m just not sure we’ll make it to a bed first this time. Eventually, but probably not first.”
She murmured her agreement, reaching over and threading her fingers through the dark hair brushing the back of his neck. Ali knew right then and there, that alcohol had absolutely nothing to do with her blossoming feelings for this remarkable man and everything to do with karma. As she sat in a sleek, expensive sports car that smelled just like Sam, she knew with sudden clarity that he wouldn’t be the only person blindsided when this was all over.
Because despite her cold and calculated plan, she was already halfway in love with him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ali wasn’t sure what exactly she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.
Standing in the middle of Sam’s house, she looked around in amazement. The neutral color palette was a mix of warm, earthy browns and soft, sophisticated creams accented with varying shades of sapphire blue. It was stunning, but the color scheme wasn’t what captured her attention. It was the out of place, oddly gigantic, building of some sort, still clearly in the middle of construction and made up entirely of pink and purple Lego’s, sitting center stage in the middle of his large dining room table. It looked like someone had spent days on it, but it wasn’t nearly complete. And it put even the most elaborate dollhouse to shame.
“I’m not gonna find Superman sheets on your bed, am I?” Ali spoke over her shoulder as Sam opened the patio doors to let Pete outside. “It’s not a deal breaker, because I have to admit, I’m pretty hot for your body.” Sam laughed when she added, “But it might make things weird.”
His grin was devilish as he walked back toward her. “You’re pretty hot for me, huh?”
She rolled her eyes. “Is that all you heard?”
He wrapped his arms around her from behind as she stood in the middle of his living room, surveying the space dominated by a soft looking, beige sectional and matching ottoman. A crocheted chenille throw, the color a pretty azure blue to match the water showcased beyond the wall of windows, was tossed haphazardly over one end. The kitchen, open to the living and dining room, was decked out in glass front, white-washed cabinetry and the most beautiful lapis colored marble Ali had ever seen. She laughed inwardly at how far off base she was in her stereotypical expectations of what a successful, single man’s house might look like. There was no pool table in the dining room, no basketball hoop in the living room, and no kegerator in the kitchen. It was tastefully decorated—the work of a professional, she could tell—but comfortably so. It wasn’t a house set up for a bachelor. It was a home meant for a family.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he teased her. “I’m pretty hot for you, too.”
She could feel the evidence, hard and insistent against her lower back. Knowing that she did that to him, that she could turn him on without a single touch, worked wonders on her damaged self-esteem. “So, what’s with the kiddie toys?”
“You got something against kids, Ali?” The words were casual. The question wasn’t.
“No. I just didn’t peg you for a guy who builds houses out of blocks in his spare time.”
“Good,” he said quietly, in response to his not so subtle question. “And it’s not just any old house, it’s a castle.” Sweeping the long fall of her hair aside and tucking it behind her ear, he placed a hot kiss on the side of her neck and turned her around in his arms. “My niece comes over a lot. We’re building it together, but the turrets have me stumped. I might have to take an online course in architecture to figure it out.”
Ali felt her heart melt. And since there was absolutely no room in this equation for melting hearts and talk of kids, she brought them straight back to where they needed to be. What this was really about. Sex. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Don’t you want to show me your superhero sheets, now?” She took a half step back and shrugged out of her zippered sweatshirt, tossing it on the sofa directly behind him and reaching for the hem of her t-shirt.
Sam didn’t move, his attention focused on the slowly revealing skin of her bare belly. “Thought you said that would make things weird.”
“They could have rainbows and unicorns on them for all I care, as long as you’re naked.”
Her movements were leisurely as she lifted the shirt up and over her head, dropping it to the floor as she shook her hair back into place. Her skinny jeans were next and Sam’s hands tightened into fists as she wiggled her way out of the tight denim, which was no easy feat on a normal day, kicking them to the side. Left in only her flimsy, green satin demi-bra, her plump breasts overflowing the half cups after her exaggerated shimmy dance, and her matching thong panties, Sam made a move for her.
Holding up her hand, she stopped him. “Uh-uh. You were in charge last night. Now it’s my turn to play.”
That was big talk considering her lack of experience and Ali hoped he couldn’t see how self-conscious she was, standing in his living room basically bare-assed with her boobs—and probably an obscene amount of nipple—showing, but she hadn’t been kidding when she told him she was hot for him. Had been since she’d watched the waitress at the restaurant do her floozy best to get Sam’s attention, including showcasing her surgically enhanced cantaloupes by leaning in front of him every chance she had. Sam would just sit back in his chair, keeping his eyes locked on Ali’s face and continuing their conversation as if he had no clue he was being all but sexually molested by their server. At one point, Ali had gestured toward the flirtatious waitress as she flounced away, whispering to Sam, “Really? I’m sitting right here.” Unaffected, his response had been a simple, “Only looking at you, Ali-cat.”
And he was looking at her now, his eyes liquid and intense. One dark brow raised as if to say, “What are you gonna do now?” A silent dare.
What the hell was she going to do now? This was new territory for her and she hadn’t exactly thought it through. Eying him up and down to buy some time, her breath caught in her throat when she noticed the impressive bulge tenting the front of his well worn jeans, hard and ready just from her partial striptease. She licked her lips unconsciously and heard him groan under his breath, saw the muscles of his biceps flex, the dark markings from his tattoo peaking past the short sleeve of his black t-shirt. Ali loved the way his eyes tracked her body, narrowing at her breasts before focusing on the V of her thighs, barely covered by the tiny piece of green silk s
omebody had the nerve to call underwear. Sam didn’t move when she finally took a step into him, touching him from chest to thighs as she nuzzled her nose into his delicious smelling neck before licking his salty skin with the flat of her tongue. His hands immediately went to her hips, his fingers squeezing before sliding under the thin string of her panties as he tried to tug them off.
Ali stepped back quickly, pushing his hands away as she did so, but not before the scrap of fabric lowered an inch. Just the smallest bit of her tiny triangle showed and Sam’s hot gaze was riveted to the spot.
“You need to catch up.” Her voice was breathless as she reached for his button fly, tracing the hard length of him with her hand as he reached back, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.
Knowing what she wanted, he obediently kept his hands at his sides, flexing his fingers to keep from touching her, his body rigid with need. She stroked his denim covered erection one last time then reached for the top button, wanting to feel his hot length in her hand. He groaned, lowering his head to her chest and snaking out his tongue to swipe along her exposed nipple. Ali gasped, her hands stilling as she felt the hot burn of desire shoot through her, and she allowed him this touch, mouth to breast only, for a moment longer.
“Help me get these off.” Her whispered plea worked to distract him and he lifted his head, reaching down to push his jeans off, taking his boxer briefs with them.
His erection surged long and thick, and Ali was spellbound. Pushing on the center of his chest, Sam did as she silently requested, sinking down onto the soft sofa. His eyes were hooded as he stared intently at her upper body and Ali looked down, shocked to see her breasts almost completely falling out of the cups of her bra. The subtle padding created a natural lift, pushing her up and out, making her look a whole lot perkier than she really was, and Ali made a mental note to buy that bra in every color and pattern.
Then she looked at Sam, sitting on the sofa like a Greek God chiseled from stone, his tanned skin tight over hard muscle, and Ali could hardly believe he was hers. At least, for now.