by Nicole Helm
She let herself fall into the spiral, the bright orgasm shuddering through her from the center out and back again.
When Sam withdrew his hand, she realized she wasn’t the only one shaking. But he was the only one who hadn’t had release.
“Do you want me to—”
“I want to be inside you.”
Even though she had just reached that peak, his voice and those words shuddered through her, making her want that too. She wanted him to take out that rough need inside her, over and over again.
“Get the condom.”
He scrambled off the bed and grabbed the packet he had placed on her dresser. Without waiting, he opened the packet and rolled the condom over himself and was back on the bed before she’d barely taken a breath.
“If it hurts, if it’s too much, you tell me to stop.”
She pushed up onto her elbows, looking at where he kneeled at her feet. She smiled at him the best she could. “You will not stop. Consider that nonnegotiable.”
He shook his head with a little laugh and crawled back on top of her. This time the blunt edge of him teased where his hand had just been.
“You might change your mind,” he murmured gently.
“I won’t.” She trailed her fingertips over his face, his hair, then his beard, and looked him right in the eye. “I absolutely won’t.”
He eased his way in, and at first it wasn’t bad at all, though every inch was a little bit more . . . uncomfortable and harder to take without reacting by tensing up.
He kissed her jaw and slid his rough palm down her side and her hip, then back up again. He murmured sweet words and endearments, encouraging little it’ll-be-okays.
“I know. I know.” Because she did know. It would be fine, it would even be great. She just had to relax and trust the process. Trust Sam. That wasn’t hard at all.
When he finally buried himself completely inside her, he rested his forehead against hers and she wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him closer and tighter. They were joined. They were together and it was exactly what she’d hoped it could be. It might still sting a little, but this was more than just the sex. He was her first, and she was his . . . reentry into the world.
For this moment, this was all bigger than just sex. Maybe, well hopefully, there would be moments later on when sex between them would be about lust, a quick and dirty antithesis to moments like this that meant the world.
But for today, it was a big thing, bigger than what happened inside her body, and all about what happened inside her heart.
Sam sighed against her cheek before opening his eyes and studying her face. Part of her wanted to shrink away from the depth of . . . maybe it was foolish, but it felt like he could read every thought, every emotion, and understood them better than she did.
“Hayley, I . . .” His expression was so serious and very nearly grave, Hayley thought maybe something was wrong. She wanted to reassure him that everything was fine, but she didn’t have the words in the face of that serious, concentrated stare.
He skimmed fingertips over her cheek, still not really moving inside her, which at least gave her the time to adjust and relax and enjoy.
“I’ve never said this to anyone, and I’m not even sure I should. But if not now, when?”
Confused, she trailed her fingers through his hair and down his bearded jaw. “I’m not following.”
“I am . . . I fell in love with you, Hayley. Against my will. Against everything I’d built to fight the world, and I think that’s why it was so quick and potent, because the walls were already crumbling and you are exactly what I needed to kick away the debris, I guess. I’ve got to stop talking in metaphors.”
Hayley couldn’t breathe or even pretend to laugh at that. She had never wanted to hide tears more, but they were pooling in her eyes, all this confused emotion coiling and tightening in her chest. She could almost forget he was currently deep inside of her. Naked.
She had feelings for Sam—deep, complex ones. But to say something, to have to understand what he was saying, she’d have to understand how it was possible.
Love? Everyone she’d ever loved had moved on to something better, or looked at her as this extra they weren’t sure what to do with. She was the secret, the afterthought. Love had never meant understanding, it had always meant a certain kind of responsibility. Grudging at times.
She didn’t want to be Sam’s responsibility. She didn’t want to lose all those layers of understanding between them. And you’re so sure you would?
“Let’s put that aside,” Sam said gently.
“Put it aside? How can I—”
His mouth closed over hers, hard and unrelenting. Coaxing her to forget all about words and feelings in the past and focus on what was between them. Here. Now.
He moved inside her—finally—slow, painstaking strokes that didn’t even hurt. It was amazing, but each glide was easier and eventually he pulled her hips down and angled himself differently above her, and when he sank deep it hit exactly where it needed to for the keening edge of bliss to echo through her body.
His fingers dug into her hip, a hot, rough centering point to the way physical desire could blot out all of the emotional mess in her brain.
She grasped at his shoulders, arching to meet him and trying to find that perfect friction to give her and him what they both needed.
He said her name, something like a growl. The gravel in his voice smoothed over her skin the same as his fingertips.
She held on to him, arching to meet him as his thrusts became harder and deeper. She kept squirming to try to find the magic release point and when she did, when the bright white of an orgasm sparkled out around her like its own aura, she felt Sam tense and groan with one final, deep thrust. It rippled and ebbed through her, its own raging river of release.
He was all but crushing her into the mattress, but she didn’t care. She wanted to hold them there and somehow wrap her brain and heart around everything that had just happened.
He tried to move, but she held on tight, wanting him to stay on top of her. This comforting certainty he was here. That he wanted to be, and that those words were . . . real.
She closed her eyes, keeping a death grip on his neck, and he held her too. Staying firmly in place, exactly where she needed him.
The orgasm was still pounding through her, but so was this new thing. A kind of panic. She thought she probably loved him back. How could she be here if she didn’t? How could it be important if she didn’t? But there was more to it. Hearing the word love during this was overwhelming.
So she’d hold on to him until she could figure it out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eventually Hayley let him go and Sam could slide out of her grasp. Though he didn’t go far. He lay on his side and she lay on hers so that they could both fit on the twin bed. He dozed, exhausted by the events of the day.
He should probably go and give her space. He’d dropped a bomb he hadn’t meant to drop, and if the situation had been reversed, and he wasn’t certain what to do, then he’d want space. Space, with time and quiet, to figure it out.
But every time he shifted even a little bit, she would grab on to him in some way. Clearly she wanted him here.
So he stayed, even as night edged into early morning. Even as he knew he should head home. Tori had probably figured out where he went and what he was doing, but there was less chance of her mentioning it to Will or Brandon if he went home tonight.
And yet, he couldn’t force himself out of Hayley’s bed. At some point, Hayley murmured something. “Say what?” he mumbled, happily asleep in this terribly uncomfortable position.
“You can sleep here if you want,” she whispered, smoothing a hand over his hair.
“I wish I could. But it’s just Tori in my cabin alone.” He forced his eyes open and caught the way her mouth curved a little bit at that.
“What do you think she’s going to do? Connect you to the grid?”
He l
ooked at her then, met her gaze for possibly the first time since everything was said and done. He could get lost in those eyes, and he wished they were in his little cabin, in the little world he’d built to keep everyone out.
Except Tori was there. In fact, a lot of people had been infiltrating that insular world lately. “It’s possible that off-the-grid living has gotten a little old. Just a little.”
Her smile curved even wider. “And what are you planning on doing about that?”
“I don’t know. But I thought maybe you could help me figure it out.”
She reached out and touched his beard, something that was becoming such a common gesture. The way her fingertips skimmed the bearded jaw felt important—that word again, but the only one he could come up with. That light touch was as comforting as a hug, as sweet as a kiss. There was appreciation in that touch, and care. Maybe she hadn’t said I love you yet, but he could feel her care. She couldn’t hide it, probably even if she wanted to.
“I . . .” She bit her lip and her eyebrows scrunched together. She didn’t look him in the eye. She was staring at the section of beard that her fingers were touching. Slowly her gaze moved up to meet his. He couldn’t read all the emotions reflected in her eyes, but he had an idea of what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.
“I . . . I love you too. I mean, I think.” She made some odd laughing sound that reminded him of panic. “I’ve never been in love before.”
But she’d said it. And he knew it was her truth as much as his. “Me neither,” he said gently.
“Then how did you know?”
He tried to figure out what magical turn of events had made him so certain. Certain enough to tell her, certain enough to be here, certain enough to have changed his whole life because of her place in it.
He didn’t have the words, not in the way Hayley needed, but she was looking at him so expectantly.
“I guess I knew that no matter where my life might take me, or what I might choose to do, that you are the person who I would want standing up to me and telling me I’m an idiot, or . . . hugging me and telling me I’m on the right track.”
None of the worry left the furrow in her brow, but she traced the edge of his beard, so he kept talking.
“I can’t imagine anyone else stepping into my life and so quickly transforming it. In a good way. I’d been on this edge I didn’t understand for a while. I think it was something like . . . not knowing I needed to forgive myself exactly, but acknowledging that I had to move on. That the life I was living wasn’t sustainable. But that realization meant making changes that were too scary to do alone. When you came along, it felt less and less scary. It felt necessary. I don’t know what else besides love could do that.”
“Why did you feel so guilty about your sister’s death?”
Sam tensed, but Hayley’s fingers continued gently stroking his face, and he was in a soft and warm and safe place.
She’d said she loved him, and while there was a niggling fear that what he was about to say might change that, he’d come too far to give in to that fear. Too far to let it guide him.
“We were both struggling with my parents’ machinations, let’s put it. They wanted Abby to get married to some son of Dad’s coworker, but she wanted to finish her degree and marry someone she loved. They’d grounded her in an effort to bend her to their will, and there was enough wanting-to-please-them in her that she went along with the punishment.”
He’d never blamed his parents before, not for this, but in this clearer space, older and wiser, he couldn’t help but wonder how things might have been different if they’d listened. If they’d bended—just a little. If they’d loved, instead of manipulated.
Hayley didn’t push him when he paused, and that made it easier to say the rest. “In my infinite stupidity, I thought she needed a night of fun, so I snuck her out and took her to a party. I left her with some acquaintances of ours while I went to pursue my own, er, interests—knowing full well these weren’t the type of acquaintances who cared or took care. They were doing heroin, and Abby was in a bad enough place . . .”
It was still hard. The guilt, the pain, the grief, it wouldn’t ever go away. “It was some super–high octane version or something. When I found her again she was unresponsive. They rushed three kids to the hospital, but Abby didn’t make it.”
“Sam.” Hayley shook her head, tears swimming in her eyes even as she continued to stroke his face.
But she didn’t say anything else. Not that he should feel guilty, or that he shouldn’t. She didn’t try to tell him what to feel, or even what to do. She held him, she touched him, and eventually she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“You’re a good man, Sam Goodall,” she murmured, snuggling closer. “Spend the night with me.”
He should say no. But even knowing the worst about him, even having butted heads against the worst of his temper, or watching him run away, Hayley thought he was a good man.
She wanted him to stay. There was no other option.
* * *
Hayley didn’t sleep well. Partially because of the snoring, rock of a man taking up almost the entire bed, but more because she was so mixed up.
Sam had shared that piece of his past, painful and touching, a testament to how much he’d been through. Hayley couldn’t fix it for him, just like her father’s treatment of her mother had never been fixable.
A seed of fear and confusion was quickly sprouting, no matter how she tried to fight it.
Would she always be in this position, with a person who had secret hurts and hang-ups she’d never fully know, and always tiptoe around?
You’re being ridiculous. He told you. He shared.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold on to the voice of reason instead of the voice that told her this was going to be yet another relationship she couldn’t maneuver through.
She hadn’t realized Sam was awake until she felt his thumb smooth across her forehead.
She opened her eyes and looked into his blue ones. “You’ve got quite the line there. What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, trying to quell all her concerns and fears. “It’s . . .” Nothing. Nothing. But she couldn’t give him nothing. “Scary. This. Us.” She didn’t have to tell him why, she only had to tell him that it was.
“If it helps, I’m scared too. These past few months have been nothing but scary. I’d rather face a bear, to be quite honest, but life doesn’t give you those choices.”
Hayley pressed her forehead to his shoulder, burrowing against him. “So, this . . . love thing. You really want to . . . You really want to?” Maybe his words could heal this broken fear inside of her.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want it more than I wanted to hide, Hayley, and you saw how badly I wanted to hide.”
Yes, that was true. That was comforting. Why couldn’t she calm down and accept it? Why was she even thinking about her mom right now? That was warped. She should be focusing on Sam and love.
Love. A thing they were in. Together. She snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm, relishing the heat and hardness of his body, and how easily it held hers pressed against it.
There was one final little hurdle. One they were going to need to broach since Sam had spent the night with her, even if it was still early in the morning. “How are we going to tell Brandon and Will?”
Sam tensed, which in turn made Hayley tense. Except, okay, Will clearly didn’t like the idea, so of course he was tense. Sam didn’t want to upset his friends.
But this was important. It was a thing. It was love. So, of course he was going to—
“I think we should keep it quiet for a while.”
“Keep it quiet.” Hayley knew she’d gone to stone, possibly ice, and Sam rubbed his hand up and down her arm as if trying to soothe her.
“We can keep it our little secret for—”
At the word secret, Hayley felt as though she’d been stabbed. She wrenched awa
y from him, scrambling off the bed, quickly and not at all carefully. Secret. A secret? He wanted her to be his secret?
“Hey, where are you going?” Sam asked.
She shook her head as she jerked open the closet door and pulled out a robe. Sam leaned up on his elbows and watched her. “What is it? Did I say something. . .”
She kept her focus on the robe, tying it into a tight knot that might possibly cut off circulation. She hoped it would keep the tears out of her eyes, the pain out of her chest.
“Hayley. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it. I promise.”
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. Fix it? Fix it? He couldn’t fix this. This was a deep, yawning horror inside of herself. “It’s nothing,” she said quietly and resolutely.
“Something is up. Talk to me.”
She shoved her hands into her hair and tried to take a deep breath that shuddered and failed. She blinked excessively to keep the tears away, gave her hair a little tug to keep her centered and focused on anything that wasn’t the crushing pain in her heart.
“Hayley, baby, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”
“I think you should go.” It was the only thing she could think of. He couldn’t be here. She couldn’t deal with him wanting her to be a dirty little secret he kept from everyone who mattered to him.
She blinked more furiously as Sam sat in her bed—her bed, where she’d given him so much—and gaped at her as though she’d grown another head. She tried to keep her breathing from galloping out of control, and as anger slowly infused his features, she found she could match it. She just had to latch on to anger.
It’ll be our secret.
Yeah, she knew what that meant. She’d lived what that meant. The secret her father would never tell his family, the secret her mother had kept from the men she’d dated until Mack had broken down that final defense.
Our. Secret.
Except it was never hers, it was always theirs, and how could she explain that to him? How could she open up that far? This was bad enough, how vulnerable she was, how easy it would be for him to . . . to . . .