River of Love

by Melissa Foster

  He gazed at her from what felt like miles above. His dusky eyes glimmered with warmth and passion, making her feel like he’d been waiting all day for this moment. His olive skin was peppered with sexy scruff, and a boyish, and somehow also sensual and manly, smile split his lips.

  She should say something. Anything. But she couldn’t figure out how she’d ended up here in his arms. It was unimaginably easy to get swept up in him. Just one dance.

  “You look gorgeous.” His voice was deep and intense, like everything else about him.

  “Thank you.” She became aware of the feel of his firm, hot waist against her palms. The press of his thighs, the brush of his abs against her breasts. Her nipples tightened, and she pulled back slightly, but his hand splayed on her back, holding her close.

  A knowing smile played across his face. “It’s just a dance,” he reassured her, as if he could read her thoughts. “I was surprised to see you here.”

  “Not my usual hangout,” she answered truthfully. She had been there a few times, but she usually preferred clubs that felt less like meat markets. She should have known Sam would be there. Why hadn’t she thought of that when they made plans? Probably because last month when they were planning the evening, Sam was in the untouchable, do not think about zone. He was alone in that zone. Filling it up without even trying, and making it impossible for Faith not to think about the damn zone.

  “My lucky night.”

  His hands pressed more firmly as they danced. His movements were graceful and virile at once. As they found their groove, one hand slid up her back, the other to the base of her spine. He danced like sex liquefied. If this was all she’d allow herself, one dance, a handful of minutes to be in his arms, she was going to enjoy it. She gave herself over to the music, soaking in the feeling of being in Sam’s arms. She wound her arms around his neck, and his eyes darkened even more. His smile turned sinful. She closed her eyes, pretending she wasn’t already damp and dipping her toes into dangerous waters. Resting her cheek against his chest, she listened to the sure and steady beat of his heart, refusing to feel guilty for a few minutes in heaven.

  His hand slid beneath her hair to the nape of her neck. Yes, oh yes. That felt luxurious and so, so good.

  He leaned down, his warm breath feathering over her ear, as he said, “Talk to me, Faith.”

  He said her name the same way he looked at her, like she was important and beautiful, and that made the butterflies in her stomach spring to life again.

  “I’m trying to figure out how you coerced me into this dance.”

  “You want to be here in my arms.”

  Those eyes, she couldn’t escape them. And hell if he wasn’t right.

  “Maybe,” she admitted, “but don’t get any ideas. As you said, it’s just one dance.”

  “Why are you so against spending time with me?” His brows slanted, giving him a deadly serious look.

  “I’m not going to be another notch on your belt, Sam.”

  He leaned back and tugged at the waist of his sexy jeans. Holy moly, that was a turn-on, too.

  “No belt, Faith.”

  A soft laugh slipped out. “You know what I mean.”

  “Then don’t become a notch. There’s no reason we can’t dance, or talk, or spend time together.”

  Why did he make everything sound so easy? Didn’t he know that just dancing with him was making her insides melt, and because of that she hated herself a little bit?

  “Sam.”

  He cupped the back of her head. Wow, that felt amazing.

  “Faith.”

  Melt, melt, melt. There went her panties.

  No. She refused to be another swoon-for-Sam-Braden girl. She drew her shoulders back and set what she hoped was a slightly professional gaze on him.

  “We are dancing,” she said. “And talking.”

  “Go out with me,” he said in the same vein as he’d asked her to dance—it wasn’t a question at all, but a gentle, coaxing demand.

  “No, thank you.” Good. That was quick, succinct, and left no room for negotiation.

  His brows quirked up in amusement. “You want to go out with me, Faith.”

  “No, I don’t.” Oh, what a tangled web of lies we weave to keep our hearts safe.

  “You do,” he said easily. “You will.”

  His dark eyes held her captive for an interminable span of time before he guided her head possessively back to his chest. She should be angry at his assumption, but he felt so good. She closed her eyes, the devil in her mind mocking her, as she flattened her hands along his shoulders, feeling his strength and noticing his lack of tension. He was calm and relaxed as a summer breeze while she was strung so tight if he let go she might spring off like a tornado.

  When the song ended, Sam ran his hand down her arm and laced their fingers together. Without a word he lifted her hand and kissed it. Then he held it to his chest and pulled her against him.

  “One more dance,” he whispered against her cheek.

  She was playing with fire. How could she do anything but melt?

  Chapter Six

  SAM DIDN’T WANT their dance to end, but as he knew it would, the beat faded, and all that was left was the thrum of desire flowing through his veins and the urge to get to know Faith better. She gazed up at him like a deer staring down a buck—intrigued and scared in equal measure. He knew she had to return to her friends; he’d promised them he wouldn’t steal her for the night, although that was exactly what he wanted to do.

  Their fingers were still laced. Before he could check his words, “Take a walk with me?” came out. A walk? He had no idea where that came from.

  “What?” Her eyes widened with confusion.

  “A walk. It’s what people do with their legs to get them from one place to another. Let’s get out of here and walk along the beach. I just want to talk to you, Faith. Nothing more.” Nothing more would be torture, but he wanted additional time with her more than he wanted to make a move on her.

  She stared at him like he’d lost his mind, and maybe he had, but he wanted to get to know her. Faith had that weird thing going on, where she said things that made him think, and he rarely slowed down for anything.

  “I can’t just leave, Sam.”

  “Half an hour. That’s all.” Whispers was located at the end of Dunes Landing, a dead-end street overlooking the ocean. “They’ll still be here when we get back, and they can keep an eye on us from the deck if they don’t trust me.” Hope swelled inside him as consideration washed over her eyes.

  She glanced in the direction of her friends’ table. “I can’t.”

  “You can.” He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “I do love those sexy specs.”

  “Ugh. You’re just trying to hook up with me.” She pushed away, but he still had her hand in his, and he tugged her against him again.

  “Trust me, Faith. If I wanted to hook up with you, I’d never settle for half an hour—and neither would you.”

  She inhaled an unsteady breath, and he liked that. He liked it a whole hell of a lot.

  “Sam,” she said with slightly less determination.

  “Sand between your toes. A little conversation. That’s all I’m asking for. I promise not to try anything else.” The urge to taste her luscious lips was so strong his mouth burned, but he’d gladly fight those desires for a little more time together.

  She narrowed her eyes, and he reluctantly released her hand. “No tricks, no pressure. Bradens’ honor.”

  “Seriously?” She laughed.

  “Seriously.” Sam was raised by an ex-military father and a mother whose every word held lessons in love, loyalty, and honesty. He might go through women like water, but he had the strength and security of knowing that no matter what he or his siblings did, they would always be there for each other. As disbelief filled Faith’s eyes, he had the overwhelming desire for her to feel that security, too.

  The thought hit him with the force of a bullet train.
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br />   Faith looked down at their separated hands, and when she lifted her eyes to his, he was sure she was going to blow him off. His chest constricted with the need for her to agree to the walk. Nerves pricked his arms as he tried to figure out what else he could say or do to buy a little more time with her. And then she touched his fingertips with hers and looked up at him with a half-smiling, half-serious expression.

  “Give me a minute.” She headed over to her friends, leaving Sam a thread of hope to hang on to.

  She leaned over the table, and all the girls leaned in, listening. Everyone nodded and smiled, except Vivian, who shifted a death stare to Sam. She turned that heated stare on Faith, and his legs flexed with the urge to protect Faith from whatever was spewing from Vivian’s lungs. But that wasn’t his place. He’d never come between Faith and her friends, and as Faith rose to her full, petite height and reached across the table to squeeze Vivian’s hand, he prepared himself for her refusal to go on their walk.

  **

  “IT’S ONLY A walk.” Faith wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or Vivian. She felt guilty for even considering going, since she was here for a girls’ night and Vivian was leaving tomorrow. But she wanted to go, and besides, before Vivian’s last boyfriend and current hiatus from men, she’d left Faith plenty of times to be with a guy she’d met while they were out. Sam had piqued Faith’s curiosity. How many guys had asked her to go for a walk in Peaceful Harbor? Exactly none.

  “He’s already promised not to try anything.” Faith wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved by that promise.

  “He’s dangerous for you, Faith. You’re too attracted to him, and let’s face it, as I said before, it’s guys like him that brought our group together. Why can’t you talk here?” Vivian pleaded.

  She thought about Lira and all the reasons the girls had come together in the first place. She knew Vivian was looking out for her, and she knew Vivian was right. Sam posed a risk to her emotions. But there was a whisper drawing her in the other direction. She couldn’t get past the honest look in his eyes when he’d said he didn’t hurt women, or the sincerity in his voice when he’d said he wanted to help by donating to their group. That hopeful, and apparently stronger than she knew, part of herself was clinging to those things, wanting to dissect them like she would an ailment, and there was only one way to do that. Her physical safety wasn’t in jeopardy, only her emotions. Besides, if he did try something, well, wouldn’t that tell her everything she needed to know?

  “Oh, let her go,” Brittany urged. “He’s such a nice guy.”

  “You should have seen his face when I told him that my boyfriend invited his other girlfriend to a couple’s dinner that he’d already invited me to.” Hilary sipped her drink. “I swear he looked like he wanted to wring the guy’s neck, and he doesn’t even know me.”

  Vivian narrowed her eyes skeptically in Sam’s direction. “Really? So maybe there is more to this guy than I’m giving him credit for.”

  “Yup.” Hilary smiled up at Faith. “Go, but I want to hear all about it when you get back.”

  “You sure you guys don’t mind? This was supposed to be a girls’ night, and—”

  “If you really want to go, which it seems like you do, then go.” Vivian tapped her watch. “But you’re on the clock, and I’m holding you to it. You don’t want to waste that outfit on him all night.”

  Her outfit. Geez. She’d been so wrapped up in things she’d forgotten she was wearing the skimpy skirt and a shirt that hung too low off her shoulder.

  She closed her eyes tightly and recalled the confidence she’d felt when she first left the apartment. She clung to that confidence and opened her eyes, surprised to feel a little thrill about her racy outfit. “Okay, back in thirty minutes.” When she turned, bringing Sam into focus, her mind froze, and thoughts of anything other than the man before her—handsome, determined, dangerous?—fell away.

  He fell into step beside her, his hand gently wrapping around her arm. Was she really walking out of Whispers with Sam Braden? The longing looks from the women she passed told her she was, and the tightening in her stomach told her maybe she shouldn’t. She slowed, but Sam’s insistent touch drove her forward.

  The evening air was cool on her face, bringing her smart-girl brain back. Sam was just a guy, and this was just a walk. She tried to ignore the heat of his hand, his earthy, masculine scent, and the way he was looking at her, like she was all he ever wanted.

  Her smart brain cleared that right up. Sam didn’t want just one girl, no matter what came out of his tempting, full lips.

  He knelt beside her at the edge of the beach, placing his big, hot hand on her calf and threatening the brain cells she’d just salvaged.

  “Hold on to my shoulder and I’ll help you with your shoes.”

  No girl in her right mind could deny a sexy man kneeling at her feet. She held on to his shoulder as he removed her shoes and set them aside.

  “You have cute feet,” he said as he toed off his shoes and placed them beside hers.

  “I do?”

  “I like your Skittles toes.” His hand landed on its new home, the back of her arm, and they stepped onto the cool sand.

  “Skittles toes?” She looked down at her multicolored toes, having completely forgotten that she had painted her toenails different colors. “Oh my gosh, they do look like Skittles.”

  “My favorite candy.” A breeze came off the water, sending his thick dark hair into impossibly sexy tufts.

  “It is not. You’re just full of lines.” She shook her head, laughing under her breath as they walked along the shore.

  “That’s not a line, actually. Skittles are my favorite.”

  They fell silent for a minute as another breeze swept off the water, but heat rolled off of Sam, keeping Faith toasty warm.

  “So,” she said nervously. “Now that you’ve got me out here, what did you want to talk about?”

  “Everything,” he said easily. “You.”

  “Me? I’m boring.”

  “You’re anything but boring. Tell me about WAC. Why did you start it?” He looked at her expectantly.

  “Oh, you know. A bad breakup, too much tequila, and a best friend urging me on.” She tried to play it off casually, figuring he was just fishing for conversation.

  “Actually, I don’t know. I told you I haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and I don’t date, so I don’t really get the whole bad breakup thing. What happened?”

  She mulled that over for a minute. “What does that mean? You ‘don’t date’?”

  “You tell me your secrets and I’ll tell you mine.” His eyes twinkled with playfulness, and the contrast to the heat his body was sending knocked her a little off-kilter.

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  “You started a group for women who had been cheated on. It seems like there would be a story behind that, but you don’t have to share it with me. I, on the other hand, am an open book. Do you want to know why I don’t date?”

  No. Maybe. “Sure. Let’s hear it.”

  “You’ve known a class clown or two, right?”

  Totally not what she was expecting to hear, but she went with it. “I guess.”

  “Everyone does. There’s one guy in every high school class, and when the reunion comes around, he’s the same person he was all those years ago.”

  “O-kay.”

  “Well, I’m not that guy.” He fell silent, and she looked up at him.

  “That’s it? That’s your story?”

  “No. I was just trying to figure out how to explain what I wanted to say, and I realized it made me sound immature, so I stopped.” He gazed out over the water, the playfulness she’d seen slipping out of her grasp.

  “So, you can’t figure out why you don’t date, or you’re too immature to admit the truth?”

  He turned to look at her with a hint of a smile. “Do you always call people on their shit?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I�
�m just trying to figure you out, but you’re complicated. It’s like listening to a handful of symptoms and trying to diagnose a new disease.”

  “That sounds horrible. I am not a disease. I’ve never had a disease, and…That’s just awful.” He chuckled, making her smile again.

  “Not that you’re a disease, just…Okay, yes, I don’t put up with a lot of bullshit.”

  “Because you were cheated on?”

  Her mouth dropped open, and he held up a hand in surrender.

  “Hey, fair’s fair. You called me on my shit.”

  “Yes, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I, too, have been treated like shit?” The admission made her feel vulnerable, and that wasn’t a feeling she liked.

  He touched her hand, regret washing over his features. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to get to know you better, and not just the here and now, Faith. I want to know how you became the person you are.”

  His confession was completely unexpected, softening her toward him. But the nagging question of why he wanted to get to know her played on in her head. Silence grew and expanded like a bubble between them, and she stifled the urge to ask, because this was Sam. He had only one endgame.

  They walked in silence, broken only by the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the faint sound of music in the distance.

  After a few uncomfortable minutes, he said, “Let’s see…why don’t I date?”

  “You don’t have to tell me.” She felt a little silly for her earlier outburst.

  “I want to. I was a rascally kid, like the class clown, only different.”

  “I can only imagine,” she teased.

  He cocked a brow, and she couldn’t tell if he meant it as a tease or a dare.

  “I was always willing to stretch the rules, take risks. I’d sneak out and play my guitar down at the beach, or go to parties.”

  He fell silent again, and she didn’t dare say a word. She wanted to hear more of his self-assessment.