“Take your panties off.” It wasn’t a suggestion, his voice rough as he issued the order. She shook her head in defiance and placed a hand on each of his knees, leaning down to place her mouth over his. The kiss was searing, lips clinging and tongues tangling, and she could taste his need, as sharp as her own. Feeling the pull on her underwear, she drew back, smiling at his disgruntled frown and dropping to her knees on the plush rug. Sliding her hands up his hair roughened thighs, she settled between his legs and leaned in to place hot, open mouthed kisses along his collar bone, finally able to explore the warm skin. She lightly ran her fingertips over the bold, black pattern of his tattoo, her tongue following, feeling the muscle tighten under her sensual touch. Tracing the lines, she trailed a wet path from his bicep to his shoulder, and down his pec muscle toward his nipple. Licking the flat disc, she felt his hardness surge against her stomach and he reached for her, no longer willing to sit still. Sam didn’t take control, though, and his large hands were surprisingly gentle, coaxing, as he stroked along her shoulders, content to let her explore the ink. His heavy breath and the muted echo of crashing waves were the only sound in the quiet house. Sitting back on her heels, she reached out, wrapping her fingers around his hard length and stroking from the broad head down, then back up again. He was so beautiful, velvety soft skin over hard steel, and she leaned forward, wetly licking him from base to tip, swirling her tongue around the head and tasting the bead of pearly liquid.
He groaned loudly, reaching up to thread his fingers through her long hair, pushing it away from her face so he could watch. Encouraged by his erotic response, she wrapped her lips over the top of his erection and took as much of him into her mouth as she could, absorbing his essence. His ripped abs contracted as he breathed unevenly.
“Damn, I love the way you touch me. So fucking good.” His low, rumbling words, along with the feel of his hands tightening in her hair, helped her find the perfect rhythm and suction. His hips surged slightly with every motion, but he didn’t push himself into her mouth, letting her set the pace and the depth. It was an amazing feeling, to give him pleasure this way. To feel such feminine power and control. She could hurt him if she wanted to. Or she could make him feel really, really good. This was her first experience in giving oral sex and although she’d always been curious, she’d honestly expected to feel somewhat degraded, too. But just the opposite happened. She was captivated—not to mention completely turned on—but not all that surprised.
Sex with Sam, no matter what kind, was thrilling and special. Important.
“Ali,” he said, his deep growl a warning, as was the not so gentle tug on her hair. “Baby, you need to stop. I’m too close.”
But she didn’t stop. She wanted to push him over the edge, to feel his need surge and be the one to satisfy it, receive it. She wanted to make sure he never forgot her.
Sam had other ideas, though, and before she could blink, he gripped her under the arms and pulled her up into his lap with little effort, his hands tugging hard at the strings on her panties. Ali heard the sound of fabric tearing just before she felt them fall away.
She gasped, stunned. “You ripped them.”
“I’m sorry.” But he didn’t sound sorry at all as his mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking strongly before pulling back to lick and nibble the hard tip. “I’ve been trying to get them off you for the last twenty minutes,” he said, accusingly. “You make me fucking crazy.”
She whimpered, loving that she could make him so insane with need that he literally ripped off her underwear. Hand in his hair, she leaned down and gently bit his earlobe. “I wanted you to come in my mouth.”
It was the sexiest—and the dirtiest—thing she’d ever said out loud. The words felt sinful and she was glad he couldn’t see her red face, but Ali wanted him to know just how much pleasure she’d taken in doing that to him.
He groaned as he reached down, his fingers sliding easily through her slick folds, feeling exactly how ready she was. “Believe me, babe, I want that, too. Next time, though.”
Working her in a slow circular motion, Ali gasped against his mouth as he slipped one, then two fingers deep inside her. She moved her hips in time with his sweeping strokes, the feel of his firm touch making her pulse with desire. He could do that to her all night and she would be perfectly happy, but the insistent throbbing of his imposing erection against her stomach was far too tempting. She shifted slightly, the decadent feel of his fingers on her, and in her, making her legs weak as she reached for the condom he’d thrown on the sofa next to him when he’d pulled his jeans off. Accurately prepared. She unwrapped the latex and reached down, stroking him eagerly a few times, feeling him grow impossibly harder in her hand.
Rising up to her knees, she slowly descended down onto his rigid length, the fit of him tight even though she was drenched. Closing her eyes, she gripped his broad shoulders and leaned back slightly, sinking down on him until he was seated fully inside her.
“Christ, Ali. Jesus, you feel good. Too good.” He cupped the heavy weight of her breasts, plucking at her sensitive nipples, the touch sending a jolt of concentrated pleasure directly where they were joined.
Ali moaned as she rocked her hips, grinding onto him deeply, feeling him touch that magical spot hidden inside. Reaching up, she placed her hands over his and Sam’s mouth came down on hers, his tongue sweeping deeply and stealing her breath. Her inhibitions long gone, she took his hand and guided it down her flat stomach, using his fingers combined with hers to rub delicious circles over her clit as her hips moved faster.
He tore his mouth from hers and groaned, his powerful gaze burning with passion as he watched her touch herself with his fingers.
“Ali...” He said her name on a tortured moan when she increased her speed, flooding him in wetness as her own whimpers of pleasure grew louder. “Damn, you’re hot. And so beautiful. I never want to stop fucking you.”
His erotically graphic words set off the strongest, hardest orgasm Ali had ever had. And considering the ones he’d given her last night were already record setting, that was saying something. The hot surge of pleasure was long and intense, and she moaned incoherently, her body pulsing fiercely around him. Sam gripped her hips securely, pounding up into her with savage strokes. She felt him shudder a second later, his big body convulsing as he buried his face between her breasts, growling his satisfaction.
Moments later, he reclined bonelessly back against the sofa with a muffled moan and she followed him, her still tingling body melting over his as he wrapped his arms loosely around her. His hot breath was heavy against her breast when Ali rested her cheek on top of his dark head, wondering how sex with him managed to get better every time. They’d set the bar pretty damn high their first time, but this round had clearly topped it, simply on the basis of sheer naughtiness. A tired smile lit her face when she felt his mouth latch onto her nipple, tugging first then sucking softly. A small tingle shot through her, but it felt less sexual and more spiritual. Metaphysical. Rubbing her fingers lazily through his hair, she let him suckle her, feeling him shift to pull out of her body, but not releasing her nipple.
Ali wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, their bodies boneless and relaxed on the ultra soft, down-filled sectional, but darkness settled completely over the room and a crescent moon hung low on the horizon, lighting the night sky visible through the uncovered windows. Drifting in and out of a light sleep, she felt his mouth pull softly at her breast every so often, as if he was dozing, too.
She grinned, letting out a small laugh. Obviously, Sam was a tit man.
“I promise I’ll take you up to bed once I can feel my legs again.” His rough words vibrated against her nipple before he moved his head, his mouth easily finding the tip of her other breast. “It may take me a few hours, though.”
Softly moaning her agreement, Ali let the rhythmic pull lull her to sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
The problem with lies is that they multiplied. You could
rarely tell only one. Just like a cockroach, when you caught one scurrying across your kitchen floor in the middle of the night, it was safe to assume there were more. Plenty more. They just hadn’t shown themselves yet.
When Ali had hatched her plan to get close to Sam, she knew she would have to tell a few. She was prepared for that. Compromising her morals and going against what her mama and daddy had taught her as a little girl was a small price to pay to get her life back. To ensure that Danny did the one and only thing she needed most and that was to leave her alone. She had taken extreme measures to ensure Sam Gleeson provided the physical deterrent and the rest was up to Danny. What she hadn’t planned for, though, were the sheer amount of lies. Or how horrible, how sick inside, she would feel when she told them.
It had been only two short weeks since Pete had crashed her pity party on the beach and she’d finally met her unknowing savior face to face, and the lies—no matter how white—were adding up. Her need to tell Sam the truth, the whole sorry story of her marriage, weighed on her every minute. And at this point, she wasn’t above begging this strong and generous man to forgive her, to fix it for her. And then to fall for her.
That was the kicker. The wrench in her plans. That was where this whole damn thing had gone horribly off course.
Because what Ali had not been prepared for, was the possibility that she would, or even could, actually fall in love with him. The kind of love that blindsided you, knocking you on your poor, unsuspecting ass before you knew what hit you. The kind where you could actually feel your heart clench, aching in longing simply from the need for another person. The kind Ali assumed didn’t exist.
Looking down at Sam now, as he slept soundly in his huge California king bed with its carved teak headboard and crisp, white sheets, she reluctantly admitted she was down for the count. It was like being splashed in the face with a ten gallon bucket full of cosmic fuck you.
The sky was just turning a hazy shade of dawn, providing enough light for her to see his ridiculously long eyelashes contrast with the dark, manly stubble covering his face. Tracing his brow with a feather light touch, Ali sighed and silently prayed to a God her mother swore on her life existed, pleading for a do-over. The last two weeks had been a whirlwind. Thanks to Sam’s enthusiastic encouragement, Ali felt ready to write again and she’d been in contact with Hilary Lee, her former editor and an outspoken, proudly vegan, hippie chick who wore only boho skirts and listened to Joni Mitchell albums all day. They’d worked through some initial proposals for a new project and after tossing around several high profile cases, Ali had settled on Jackie Warner, a beautiful brunette who’s desire to please her husband led her to assist him in the abduction, rape and murder of five women, including her own teenage niece. Serving several life sentences, Jackie publicly placed all responsibility for the horrific crimes on herself, relieving her cunning husband of all culpability regardless of the convictions that currently had him sitting on Texas’ death row. It was a twisted, yet fascinating love story and as Ali began her arduous research, she felt some of her old spark coming back. The exciting new project was keeping her days busy. Her other exciting new project—in the form of one Sam Gleeson—was keeping her nights busy.
They had settled into a strangely comfortable routine of sorts, one where Ali could expect an extremely sexy man, hair damp from a quick shower and led by an eager puppy, to knock on her back door sometime in the early evening hours. Sam would give her a devastating smile and a scorching kiss, then hand her the bag of take-out he’d brought or reach into the pan to sneak a bite of whatever she was attempting to cook for them. Without fail, he managed to make her feel as if she was the most important person he’d seen all day. She knew she wasn’t, of course, but when a girl was on the receiving end of Sam’s undivided attention, it felt pretty damn good. And it felt good to spend their nights together, listening as he told her stories about his day. The return of Caroline, his sorely missed receptionist and the one who kept his office running like a well oiled machine. His demanding assortment of ego-driven clients. How he’d had to talk Asher out of buying a stripped out Black Hawk helicopter on the down low yesterday—and Ali still wasn’t sure if he was kidding about that or not. And how Grady had narrowly escaped a sexual harassment complaint by the skin of his pearly white’s.
Grady had already told Ali that story himself, when he’d called to check in with her the other day, something he usually did a few times a week since installing her alarm. He’d given her no hint whatsoever that he was aware of her involvement with his boss, and Ali was relieved to know Sam didn’t kiss and tell. Lord knew, she wasn’t talking. It was Grady’s overprotective nature and brotherly fondness more than any romantic interest in her that spurred his regular phone calls, and his sunny personality never failed to make her laugh. So did the dumb blonde joke he would end each call with.
But Ali couldn’t tell Sam any of that, instead allowing the perfect opportunity to come clean pass by. She hadn’t seized the moment to interrupt his story and mention that she actually knew Grady personally because he had in fact, been in her home as a representative of Sam’s company. Was she a chicken shit? Maybe. Was she too far into her web of deception to get herself out? Definitely. Bowing out gracefully was no longer an option. Their lives were blending together and with little effort, they’d swiftly become a couple, bonding over more than red-hot sex. Most nights they would sit outside after dinner and watch the sun set, Sam with his bottle of pale ale and Ali with her chilled wine, discussing whether Texas Hold ‘em was better than Seven Card Stud. If beach volleyball should really be considered a sport. If Pete would ever fully understand and obey the stay command. Or, when their idle chit-chat wasn’t enough to keep their extreme attraction at bay, which house they were spending the night in and who got to be on top.
Sam had never pressed her for details on her past, her life prior to two weeks ago. He seemed perfectly content to accept whatever information she was giving him without pushing for more. Until last night.
“You’re the best neighbor I’ve ever had, Ali-cat,” he said, hugging her tighter against him.
Watching the tide roll in with the setting sun, they sat front to back on the nearly empty beach, Ali cradled in his strong arms.
She laughed at his semi-serious declaration, nudging his ribs with her elbow. “I would hope so, Gleeson. Wait,” she turned to look at his shadowed face, “does that mean sweet old Bernice turned you down? Because I’ve seen her checking out your ass. Hand to God, I swear.”
Bernice lived in the small house on the other side of Sam and she was eighty if she was a day. And Ali really had seen her checking out Sam’s backside. Apparently she wasn’t the only female on the block who enjoyed the gratuitous view as he ran the beach every morning and honestly, who could blame the old lady? It was one fine ass.
His chest rumbled against her back. “How the hell are you still single, Ali? It’s hard to believe some lucky guy hasn’t taken you off the market by now. I’m guessing you had a line of them trying to latch on. Nobody ever stuck?”
She shrugged. “No.” Lie.
“Oh, come on. You must have had a serious relationship at some time in your life.”
Downing a gulp of wine, she shook her head. “Not really, no.” Lie.
“Not even in college? The University of Michigan is a co-ed school, isn’t it?” He snorted in disbelief. “Bunch of dumb asses.”
She shrugged again, hoping he would let the tricky subject drop. Gripping his muscular forearms where they wrapped around her waist, she squeezed. “I love the water. It’s like the best therapy session ever. The sound is so relaxing. Makes me sleepy.”
“Did you spend a lot of time on the lake?” he said, reaching for a second bottle of pale ale from the small bucket wedged in the sand.
“What?” Ali asked, clueless.
“Growing up. Did you spend time on the lake?”
It took her several seconds to figure out what he meant. Oh, shit, she realize
d. There was a big lake in Chicago, right? “Umm, not so much.” Not a lie.
“So what did you do for fun?” When she didn’t respond, he rolled his fingers in a tight circle impatiently. “Did you ever go cow tipping? How many siblings do you have? Are your parents still alive?” He laughed without humor. “These are standard questions, Ali.”
“I studied. That’s what I did for fun growing up. I needed to get good grades so I could go to school. My parents weren’t very well off.” She looked away from the rolling waves to glance at him. “I’ve never tipped a cow, I’m an only child and my dad died last year.” Not a lie.
Sam nodded, looking out at the sea. “Both my parents are gone, too. I have a sister I’m close with. Donna lives over in Chula Vista. Ropes me into dinner once a month, no matter what my schedule is.” He tried to sound put out, but she could hear affection in his voice. Reaching for her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers. “I’m hoping you’ll come with me next time. I think you would really like her. And she’ll love you. Knowing Donna, she’ll demand I propose to you over dessert.”
A date to meet Donna. Another perfect opportunity to come clean.
“I’m not so sure, Sam.” Yep. Total chicken shit.
He leaned in, his breath warm on her ear. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to marry me. Unless you’d say yes. And then I need to know if you prefer to honeymoon in Italy or Greece.”
She smiled and shifted, face to face with him. The moonlight reflected in his gray eyes, lit with humor and a curiosity she chose to ignore, and Ali sealed her lips over his briefly before murmuring, “I’d probably say no, anyway.” Lie.
He cupped her cheek, returning her kiss with a little more heat, his tongue licking into her mouth and stealing her breath.
“Come on, Ali. Say yes.” His voice was serious, the joking tone gone, and for a moment she thought he was still talking about marriage. “I want you to meet my family. I want to take you to my office and introduce you to everyone. Even Ash, who attracts women like white on rice. I want to take you to Tahoe for a long weekend. I want to make this thing public.”
NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) Page 8