by Lyla Dune
He remembered her story about being orphaned and moving from foster home to foster home. On the first day they’d met, she’d mentioned he was the reason she’d be homeless. It all made sense now. Sam related to those turtles on a very deep level.
He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. “We’ll protect their home. I promise.”
She cried much longer than he’d anticipated, especially since moments earlier she’d been so cheerful. But Sam was like the ocean with interment waves of varying velocity, and each wave eroded the callus around his heart a little more.
If she needed to cry, he’d hold her as long as she let him. He supposed she had a lot of pent up emotion she needed to vent.
When her sobbing lulled, he handed her the napkin he’d tucked beneath his plate. She dried her tears and blew her nose then curled her arms around him, snuggling against his chest. He kissed the top of her head.
In a quiet voice, she said, “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m such an emotional roller coaster.”
He hooked a finger under her chin, lifted her face to his, and looked into her eyes. “I love that you’re an emotional roller coaster. Life is always exciting when you’re around.”
The corners of her lips curled into a shy smile. If he kissed her, would she run away again?
She bit her lip. “I have a confession. I’m not really gay. I don’t remember what happened that night with you and Mazy and me, but Mazy and I have never been sexually intimate with one another. Neither one of us are gay.”
That’s the confession he was looking for. “I knew that already. If it will make you feel any better, nothing happened that night other than the two of you zonking out in my bed. I did see you naked though. I brushed your hair as you talked to me in the dark, telling me about your parents and why you had a fear of being trapped.”
She withdrew from his embrace, and her eyes found his.
He whispered, “If I kiss you right now, will you promise not to run away?”
She nodded yes.
That was all it took. He lowered his head to hers and pressed his lips against her delicate coral mouth.
MOMENTS EARLIER SHE’D sat on the bed, weighing her options where he was concerned. She’d come to the conclusion—pushing away the most wonderful man she’d ever met, because she was worried he’d break her heart—was stupid. A heart couldn’t be broken unless there’d been love involved. True love, not lust. How foolish it would be to miss out on love for fear of something that may never happen?
Rocking on the porch when she’d reached her golden years, and talking about the man she’d worshipped from afar, but never allowed herself to be with, seemed unacceptable now. He’d proven time and time again he was nothing like the men from her past. When Brock sent those workers away like she’d asked, he’d proven himself yet again.
But more importantly than admitting Brock was a better man than any of her exes, it dawned on her that she wasn’t the same woman she’d once been. She didn’t hinge her sense of self-worth on whether or not she had a man in her life like she had in her past.
She wanted Brock for however long she could have him. She’d lost people before. She’d lose people again, and she’d survive. But denying herself as a sexual woman who longed to love and be loved physically and emotionally wasn’t healthy. Plain and simple.
It’d been a long road back to healthy these past five years, but opening herself up to a man may be the next step on that road.
She decided it was time to take that step.
Once she’d made that choice, a weight that she didn’t even realize she’d been carrying lifted. She gave herself permission to love, even if it wasn’t returned.
His compassion and the way he made her feel respected and desired won her over. She owed it to herself to take a chance, to enjoy whatever this fiery thing was between them—and boy was it fiery. He’d accepted her craziness and didn’t try to change her. It was time she accepted all he offered as well.
Simmering passion heated his gaze as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips met without urgency, without frantic groping. A calmness fell over her. When she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, he deepened the kiss, gently stroking her tongue with his.
He whispered, “Sam.”
She sighed, “Yes.”
Tenderness and patience shown in his face as his green eyes darkened, arousal swirling in their depths.
With her head cradled in his large palm, her hair twined around his fingers, he reclined her against the pillowy seat of the leather couch. His two-hundred pounds of solid muscle pressed her farther into the cushion. He nipped her bottom lip and let go of her hair to glide his hand down, cupping her bottom, caressing a bare cheek as he nestled his hardness against her.
A sound of distinct male satisfaction rumbled in his chest.
With his smooth palm, he eased her legs apart, settling himself between her thighs as his fingertips tickled their way to the hem of her dress.
He paused and searched her eyes, “Do you want this, love?”
She wanted to experience everything with him. Did he have any idea the magnitude of her need? She ached to love him, love him through her fear, her confusion, her mind-scrambling arousal, love him until his name was engraved on her heart.
“I want this love…”
He swallowed her words, giving them shelter in the cavern of his mouth and inched the hem of her dress toward her hips, exposing the triangular fragment of lace cloaking her center. He rotated his pelvis in a slow circular motion against the thin, damp material shielding her mound.
His movements left them both gasping in pleasure.
He stilled. His furrowed brow and low groan revealed his struggle for control.
“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” she whimpered.
With a slight smile on his lips, he lowered his lashes. “Mmm.” He shifted to her side, positioning his rugged frame snug against the back cushions of the couch. The length of her body spread before his hooded, dilated eyes that raked over her from head to toe.
His Adam’s apple moved up and down as if nodding in approval. “Beautiful.” His voice hitched with palpable emotion.
The soles of her feet heated and tingled.
He traced a finger over the sheer lace that hid her core.
She shuddered.
He peeled her panties to the side and dragged his thumb across her sensitive flesh, cleaving her open to stroke her throbbing, moistened pearl.
She closed her eyes, her body quivering with need, burning up with it. Her trembling hands clung to his biceps as he ratcheted her desire to the point of delirium.
He whispered, “Tell me, Sam. Tell me how to please you.”
Unable to speak, she bit her lower lip, trying to muffle the primal sounds erupting from the depths of the raging ocean low in her belly.
He kissed her neck then nibbled her earlobe. His breath—hot. The wet clicking sound of his tongue blended with the slip sliding of his thumb, massaging her in lazy circles.
She opened her thighs wider.
“Yes, give it to me.” He slipped two fingers inside her opening and worked them in a curling motion.
Her hips began to grind like the hips of a belly dancer.
His eyes fixated on her opened, moaning mouth.
With the controlled strength of a crouching tiger, he eased his body down hers, until his shoulders pressed her knees further apart. He lowered his head to her glistening entrance and looked up at her, his wide flat tongue outstretched, centimeters from her throbbing pink sphere.
There was a loud knock on the laundry room door.
His head shot up.
She rose to her elbows.
They exchanged a wide-eyed stare, breaths held.
He slipped his fingers out of her. “Expecting someone?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Secrets
When Sam opened the door, Leah stood on the other side in a lavender sundress, a high ponytail, and larg
e gold hoop earrings. She didn’t have a stitch of makeup on, and she still looked like a supermodel.
Her raspberry mouth was pinched. “Good Lord, Sam, I’ve been trying to call you.” Worry lines etched her brow.
Sam ran a hand over her make-out hair, trying to smooth it into place. “I’m fine.”
Leah’s expression relaxed. With an amused gleam in her eyes, she looked Sam up and down. “I recognize that rumpled, messy-hair, boneless look. Afternoon delight.” She waved and backed toward the stairs. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ll send Mazy and Kendal home. We can practice another time.”
“Rehearsal.” Sam had completely forgotten about it. Of course, with Brock blowing her mind, she was surprised she could remember her own name.
Leah laughed. “Yeah. Rehearsal. But it looks like you’re already in the midst of practicing some licks on your own. ”
“Ha. Funny. No. I just…umm fell asleep on the couch.”
“Sam. Really? I’m not stupid.” Leah began her descent to the carport. “Carry on.”
“Just give me a few minutes.”
Leah stopped and directed a motherly scowl at Sam. “Girl, if you don’t get yourself in there and back into that man’s arms, I’m going to sic Myrtle on you.”
“Myrtle? Crap.” Sam’s voice climbed an octave higher. “Leah, please don’t tell anybody about—“
“Sam. Hush. Haven’t I always kept my lips buttoned about stuff like this? Brock’s a good man. Don’t keep him waiting.”
She’d known Leah for nearly twenty years. They’d met in college when they’d been music majors at University of North Carolina Greensboro. They held some pretty racy secrets between them concerning their wild adventures with various guys. Leah had changed her ways when she met Dustin, the love of her life. Sam, on the other hand, had to hit rock bottom before she changed course.
Soon after Sam’s ex dumped her and she’d miscarried, Leah talked Irene into letting Sam house-sit, which had been the biggest blessing of Sam’s life. At the time, she was on a fast track to a nervous breakdown. Even though poor Leah had been grieving the recent loss of her husband Dustin, she still managed to help Sam through and guard her secrets.
A thousand memories involving Leah and their friendship flashed through Sam’s mind as she rested her head against the door.
“No, Leah. You’ve never let me down. That’s why I love you so much.” A whirlpool of emotion swirled in her gut just thinking about all the ways Leah had proven herself trustworthy over the years.
Leah batted her lashes and fanned her face, swallowing with a trembling smile. “I love you too.” She held Sam’s gaze for a second. “I have a good feeling about Brock. You deserve this. Now go rock his world.”
BROCK STOOD IN the kitchen just outside the laundry room door. Sam plowed into him as she stepped through the doorway. He grabbed her and steadied her, studying her eyes, sensing something had upset her. “Is anything wrong?”
She looked away from him and shook her head no.
“Talk to me.” He led her back to the couch, sat down, and patted the cushion beside him.
She lowered herself next to him and gazed at the floor. “I don’t mean to put a damper on things. I mean. Things are going great. I’m just not sure if I should tell you something or not.” When she looked up at him, he saw sorrow in her face.
“If you have something to say, I’ll listen without judgment. Always.” He brushed her hair back and caressed her cheek.
She hesitantly began. “I haven’t had sex in five years.” Her lips folded inward.
He wasn’t expecting that. Five years is a long time. “Is there a reason you chose to remain celibate for that length of time?”
“Yes. The last guy I was with ran out on me, and I was really hurt by it.”
“Breakups are hard. I understand.”
“No. There’s more.” She faced him head on, her eyes locked on his. “I was pregnant at the time, first trimester. It wasn’t a planned pregnancy. I wasn’t married to the guy, but we had been together for three years. I thought we were in love. I even thought he’d been happy about the pregnancy. That’s what he’d told me. Anyway, when he dumped me, I became very depressed.” She exhaled slowly then continued, “I lost the baby.” She didn’t cry. She looked as though she might, but she kept herself together, her hands clinched into fists on her lap.
He wasn’t sure what to say. Rage boiled inside him at the thought of a man abandoning her, tossing her to the side when she was in such a state.
“That experience must have been devastating.” It was a bland response, but it was the best he could offer at the moment. It was certainly better than demanding to be told the name of the tosser and hunting him down to beat him to a bloody pulp.
“I’ve never told anyone else about it, besides Leah.”
He reached for her hands and pried them open, entwining his fingers in hers. “You’re a brave and beautiful woman. I can’t express how honored I am that you’d trust me with such a personal piece of your history.” He pulled her close and kissed her.
A warmth rose from his heart to his face. He was in awe of her willingness to share her deepest hurts and to allow him to be the man to hold her when sad memories resurfaced.
She didn’t look at him as if he were a large bank account at her disposal or a famous escort to walk her down the red carpet. Whether or not he could play rugby didn’t matter to her at all. She looked at him like he was a man whom she could trust with her heart.
And he was that man.
He wanted nothing more than to love her and be loved by her, but it was too soon to tell her that. It was too early in their relationship to voice his intentions, but he could show her.
He could make love to her this very day, if she still wanted him. He certainly wanted her, but not right this minute, not with this darkness in her eyes. He needed to change her mood, make her smile.
“Sam, I heard you cancel your rehearsal. Even though I didn’t want to disrupt your schedule, for selfish reasons, I’m glad you did. But that leaves us in a predicament.”
Her adorable quizzical expression reminded him of a curious little girl. Precious.
He rubbed his chin like a professor in deep contemplation. “I’m quite sure my sandwich has gone terribly stale, and you’re missing out on the feast at the restaurant. Hmm. I wonder if perchance we should dine before I carry you upstairs and proceed to do naughty things to you for hours on end.”
A smile bloomed across her face. “Are you hungry?”
He licked his lips. “I could definitely eat.” He leaned toward her. With his mouth close to her ear, he whispered. “I will always be hungry for you. Always. Just so we’re clear. I love to eat. It’s my favorite past time.”
Her breath quickened.
Good. He looked forward to making her moan as well.
As he moved his lips toward her mouth, her stomach growled loudly.
He laughed. “I suppose that answers that question. The great grumbling bear has spoken. Dinner then dessert.”
SAM SNUGGLED HER head into the crook of Brock’s neck as he carried her upstairs. The delicious curry he’d made for them filled her with a comforting warmth. The exotic spices still tantalized her palate.
He drew in a ragged breath and said, “I should warn you. I have a tendency to get a bit demanding in bed. If I do or say anything that makes you uncomfortable or seems disrespectful, please let me know. All you have to do is say my full name—Brock Knight—and whatever is happening will stop, immediately. You’ll always be the one holding the keys. We’ll never go anywhere you don’t want to go.”
Damn. That little speech sent all her excited nerves downtown for the grand opening. What sort of “things” could she expect? Couldn’t he climb these freaking stairs any faster?
He carried her to the dresser and had her stand in front of it, facing the mirror. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pack of condoms and sat it on top. After he slid her dress over her head,
he whispered, “See how beautiful you are. Look.” He caressed her face and slowly traced her body, over a nipple and down her tummy, until his large hand slipped inside her panties to stroke her. With his face buried in her hair, he asked her to watch how her upper chest blushed with arousal.
At first she felt shy, but when she discovered he wasn’t watching her look at herself, she focused on her reflection, his powerful hands claiming her body, roving all over her, his muscular arms wrapped around her. She grabbed the edge of the dresser to steady herself as pleasure caused her knees to buckle.
“Mmm. You like that, don’t you?” He pressed his fingers firmly against her excited pearl and circled it slowly.
She moaned. “Yes.” Her brows furrowed with desire.
Without warning he knelt behind her and snatched her panties to the floor. “Step out.” His breath was warm against the back of her thigh.
When she did as he instructed, he stood and lifted one of her knees onto the dresser.
His unexpected actions left her trembling with heated curiosity. A twinge of nervousness tickled in her abdomen. He guided her with confidence, which helped her relax and trust him. She needed this. God, she needed this.
For years, she’d had to be in control. Having someone else lead was a welcomed change.
A dizzy, weightlessness came over her, as if she could float.
He stood behind her. She was naked and open. He was fully clothed. His eyes took in her reflection then locked on her gaze. With a slow controlled motion, he removed his clothes and quickly slid on a condom.
She braced herself and arched with anticipation when she felt his hardness pressing into her thigh. He didn’t penetrate her as she’d expected. Instead, he rubbed himself across her center. She watched his tip bulge between her folds as he thrust forward.
“I need to slide the tip inside you.” Again. He didn’t ask permission. He told her what he needed, and he did it, slowly, spreading her open enough to receive his thick mushroom cap. “Mmm. You’re wet for me.” He rubbed his tip over her clitoris then dipped an inch inside her once more, rubbed, and dipped until his movements drew her to the brink of begging.