by Justine Dell
A deeper remorse for the vile words she spat at Lance earlier slithered in. Her cruel actions. Her malicious thoughts. Everything. He hadn’t deserved any of it.
God, what had she done? What had her brother done?
The hospital doors swung open and Samantha stepped outside into the sun. It warmed her cold heart. She dug for her cell phone to call a cab; she hadn’t expected Lance to hang around. Her eyes swept the parking lot as she dialed the phone.
After a moment, she spotted Lance casually leaning against the door of his truck, eyes fixed on her. She didn’t know if she should run up and wrap her arms around him or turn and bolt in the other direction. Suddenly she felt like doing both.
Without thinking, she walked forward. Before she knew it, she was standing right in front of him. His eyes swept across her face and she hid a shiver.
“Sam,” Lance said carelessly.
“What are you still doing here?”
He spread a long arm out to his side. “Waiting for you.”
“Why?”
“Get in.” He pointed toward the truck.
She wanted to, but didn’t at the same time. She inched forward. “Why?”
“I’m not leaving until we talk. We can do it in the truck. Or we can do it out here.” He jerked his head to the right. “With an audience.”
Samantha’s eyes darted left, and she saw people milling about. She looked back at Lance. His dark stare pulled her in. Her stomach did that pesky twist, then a tight flip. “Fine.”
Lance held open the door, and she slid onto the passenger side seat. “Ouch!” She jerked up and found herself pressed into his chest, his arms wrapped around her. She was a goner.
He laughed as he reached around her and picked up Jax’s T-Rex from the seat. He held it up for Samantha to see. “Sorry. Jax must have left this when I dropped him off at his friend’s.”
Her face was steaming hot. She hid it with her hand and abruptly turned back into the seat. She couldn’t look at him. No way. Her fingertips tingled where they had touched his body. She looked around his truck for something, anything to keep her hands busy. No luck, so she settled with clasping her hands and tucking them into her lap.
He maneuvered into the driver’s seat with his jaw firmly set. The truck roared to life and pulled away from the hospital.
“Talk,” she said.
“You first.”
“It would take twelve years for me to repair the damage I’ve done, Lance.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “Cole told me everything. About us. About what he did all those years ago. There are no words in the English language that would make up for what I’ve done to you. How mean I’ve been.” She gazed out the window. “I came back here, ready to better myself and try to feed some happiness back into my life. I could do it with everyone…but you. And you didn’t deserve the way I treated you.” Her throat tightened, and she coughed, trying her best to get the scratchy-teary feeling to evaporate. It didn’t.
“I knew. Somehow I knew that you were the answer to all of this. I told myself just a few days ago that the reason I was so frustrated with my life all started with you. And now?” Her voice cranked up an octave. “Now it was all for nothing. Nothing. Cole took that away from us, Lance. He robbed me of something I had cherished for however briefly. He made it ugly and dark. And I hated you for it. If I could take it all back, I would. I’m sorry.”
Lance’s face flashed with an emotion Samantha didn’t quite recognize. Relief, maybe?
“Cole’s awake, then?” Lance turned the wheel to the left at a stop light.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“How is he?”
“Oh, fine. Ornery, but fine. He wants out of the hospital and I had to bribe him to get him to tell me the story. I should’ve believed you.” She unclenched her hands and rubbed them along her jeans. “I did believe you. But I figured the longer I pretended it wasn’t true, the longer I wouldn’t have to—” She snapped her jaws shut. She’d almost admitted she loved him. That would’ve have been bad.
“What?”
She shook her head and gripped her thighs. “Nothing. Never mind. The point is I know the truth. You know the truth. And I’m sorry for treating you the way I have. You didn’t deserve it. Had I known, I would’ve acted differently.”
His hand left the steering wheel to brush her cheek. “It’s okay. Now we can get off to a new start. What are you going to do about him?”
“I don’t know. He’ll be in the hospital for a few more days. I made sure of that before I left. Hopefully he will come to his senses before then.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. And again, I’m sorry for those mean things I said to you. I really didn’t mean what I said. I was protecting myself.”
He cast a sideways glance at her. “Protecting yourself from what?”
“You.”
He tried—and failed—to hide the surprise in his expression. “What happened to you, Sam?”
She didn’t want to answer that. She didn’t want to put everything out for him to examine. Dissect. Judge. She twisted her hands in her lap again.
Lance drew in a breath as he eased to a stop in Dorothy’s driveway. “I’m a good listener.”
“I’ve been married twice.” Her voice shook as she spoke, and she didn’t dare look at him now. “My first husband was fine until we got married, then he turned into a super-jerk, super-fast. My second husband left me for my personal assistant after he stole my money. That was, of course, after he’d slept with all the moms in my stepdaughter’s dance class.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She wanted to fidget with something. Rearrange something. Clean something. It always made her feel better. But his truck was spotless; there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere to be seen. To settle her nerves, she fastened and unfastened the straps to her purse.
“I raised his daughter, Ava. She was like my own child. He won’t let me see her now. My writing career is down the tubes. My brother is the spawn of Satan who took advantage of Gram. Gram almost died and I wasn’t here to care for her.” Fiddling with the purse wasn’t helping. She flung it to the floorboard and rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans again. Lance’s big, rough hand covered both of hers. She stole a quick glance at him. His eyes, bright and intense, searched her expression. His hands squeezed hers and she stilled.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that. I would like to help.”
“I don’t want—”
“Shh. Let me finish. I understand your pain; I’ve been in a similar place. You need to put your life back together and you need a friend.” He released her hands.
His scent was the only thing she could smell. Her heart beating was the only thing she could hear. His lips were the only thing she could see.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “That’s not important.”
He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and removed a piece of paper. He handed it to her, and she unfolded it. It was check made out to her grandmother for five hundred dollars.
“What’s this?”
“It’s one of the reasons I know how you feel. Your grandmother gave me a loan when I was at my lowest point. She had faith in me and believed in me when no one else did. When I didn’t even believe in myself. She helped me turn my life around. This was my last payment to her. She said to give it to you.”
The lowest point in his life. Samantha wondered if that was the same moment Cole had told her about. “Does this have anything to do with your stepfather?”
His lip curled into a snarl. “No,” he stated flatly. “That was totally different.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“The check?”
“No, your stepfather.”
He rolled his broad shoulders and glanced out the front window. Her heart went out to him; he looked as though he was reliving the moment in his head, and she wanted to wipe away the sadness.
When he turned back
to her, his face was emotionless. “My stepfather is the reason I wanted to help Cole so much. You’re the reason I wanted to help Cole, too. Do you remember what happened a few nights before we went out on that date?”
Her memory rewound. She’d just turned eighteen; Lance had been twenty-two. His truck flew up her driveway at full speed. He flung himself out and ran up her front steps, screaming to talk to Cole. Cole was at physical therapy, so it was only her. Lance had looked frightened. Angry. His shirt sleeve had been torn, his hair ruffled and messy, and there was a hint of crimson on the corner of his lips.
They’d sat on the porch steps and talked for what seemed like forever while they waited for Cole to return. She’d had the guts to ask him about his aspirations and dreams. At the time, she was waiting for her writing school acceptance letter. She’d known her dream and wanted to share it with him. He’d calmed while they spoke, had smiled, laughed even. He even told her she looked cute, and tugged on her ponytail. God, she usually hated that, but when he did it that time, his hand had paused and stroked her cheek.
She’d seen vulnerability that night, something she’d never seen in him before. She didn’t know why they had talked so long, or all the subjects they had discussed, but when he had said, “Thank you. You saved me tonight,” she didn’t think much about it. After all, he’d always acted a little weird around her.
He’d been composed when he left, pulling slowly out of her driveway, waving all the way. The memory made her smile. Samantha had cherished the ease with which they’d spoken that night, opening up to each other.
“Yes, I remember,” she whispered. She didn’t know if she was prepared to hear the rest of the story from Lance’s lips. It had been painful enough when Cole had told her.
“What you don’t know is that I went that night to borrow Cole’s gun. I wanted to kill my stepfather. That night, he was in a mood like I’d never seen. Mom was bloody. Her nose was broken. Her ribs were cracked. Thank God Candice hadn’t been home. When I tried to protect Mom, he came at me with a bat.”
He clenched his teeth, knuckles white as he clenched his hands around the wheel. “I wanted him to die for the pain he put us through. I wanted him to suffer. I would’ve killed him that night. But you, Sam, you saved me that night. You reminded me there is a reason to believe, a reason to live, to dream. Instead of hurting him, I finally turned him in.”
Lance’s stepfather had been arrested the day after. She’d known it was for a domestic dispute, but she hadn’t really put everything together and Candice had never gone into great detail about her horrid home life. Then Lance had wanted to take her out to show how thankful he was. The rest was history.
She wished she’d known all the details then, wished Cole hadn’t lied to her about Lance. She could have been there for him. Protected him. Loved him. She mentally smacked herself. Erasing love from her vocabulary was going to be harder than she thought.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
His eyes softened and he smiled. “You were, Sam. You were.”
“But I left.”
He stroked her cheek gently, his thumb lingering near her lip. “You didn’t know. I’ve moved on.”
Samantha nodded, feeling a little sheepish. She wanted to do move on, too. “Is your offer still open?” she asked.
His left brow shot up. “What offer?”
“Do you still think we should date?” Her lips trembled as she spoke.
His expression smoothed, and his eyes widened, gleaming. “Yes, Samantha…I do.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Strength comes in many forms. Embrace them all.”
~Unknown
SAMANTHA QUIVERED HEAD TO TOE from hearing Lance say her full name for the first time ever. His deep voice made it sound rich and exotic, sultry with a hint of longing. It shattered the last of her resistance. She scooted toward him, head down, afraid to see what emotion lay in his steel eyes.
“Samantha, look at me.”
She couldn’t.
His hand stroked her cheek. The gentleness made her want to curl up in his arms. “I can’t take back those years of rejection you felt. All the pain you went through. I would if I could. Know that you weren’t alone in your suffering. I want to make it right.”
His hand fell away, and she forced herself to look at him. “I—”
She didn’t know what she was going to say or ask for. Carefully, as though she was made of glass, he answered her by softly placing his lips on hers. It opened up everything she’d been trying to hide. In one swift move, Lance had Samantha in his arms, kissing her senseless. That’s what she needed. Him.
“Lance,” she breathed.
She didn’t say another word, but he read her mind. He lifted her out of the truck, into the house, up the stairs, and into her room, kissing her the entire way. She wondered how he managed not to trip and fall. Hell, she didn’t care. They could have tumbled in the entryway and her need would’ve been the same. She probably would’ve begged him to take her on the hardwood floor.
The bed was nicer. Lance eased her back; the comforter chilled her hot skin. He slid in beside her, leaving her nerves at attention, waiting for his next move. She ached for his hands on her body, his lips on hers, his hardness pressed into her.
He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled tenderly. “Are you sure this is what you want, Sam?”
“Yes.” She barely got the word out before he crushed his mouth to hers. Instant waves of ecstasy throbbed through her from head to toe, limb to limb.
Her memory flashed back to the night they’d first made love. She’d been a virgin and he’d still been fairly new to the experience. It was clumsy in the cab of the truck, but those moments of undying passion had left a permanent imprint on her soul. He’d been gentle with her then, kissing her softly. If the devouring urgency of his current kiss was anything to judge, Lance would take every inch of her now. His hands would be firm with experience, body confident with control, and his intentions clear. He would drug her with his kiss, recapture her body with his, and she would smother in her own love for him.
With her body on fire, that was a risk she was willing to take.
His hand threaded in her hair as the kiss slowed. The other dipped underneath her shirt. Skin met skin and something snapped inside her. She tugged off her shirt and wiggled out of her jeans; his hands were everywhere. In a tangle of movements, Lance had undressed, slipped on a condom from his wallet, and positioned himself over her.
She wanted to touch him. Breathe his scent. When she caught sight of his bare chest, the dull ache that had radiated from her stomach since the day they’d crossed paths again erupted into a full blown fire. She fought the urge to bite into his chest, raking her fingernails down it instead. A guttural sound escaped his throat as his body tightened at her touch. His chest was hard, yet the skin itself was soft. Tan. Lickable. Unable to resist, she leaned up and stroked her tongue across it. His taste was rustic yet sweet, and was suddenly the only thing she wanted in her mouth.
Samantha wrapped her legs around him and arched her back, grinding herself against the thickness of his erection. Her tongue dipped out again as she stroked the planes of his chest. She bit him this time, and his hands caught her wrists.
“If you keep doing that, I’m afraid we’ll never get around to the fun part,” he groaned.
Her body relaxed, and she laughed freely. When she looked at him, he was studying her. His normally dark eyes had brightened, and a spark of amusement played in his expression.
“What?” she asked.
One finger stroked her cheek. “Your laugh is enchanting. Beautiful.”
She cast her eyes away, not used to hearing compliments. His hand cupped her cheek and turned her to face him.
“Look at me, Samantha.”
She obeyed—resistance to that one word was not an option. A jolt of energy raced through her when his silky voice said those three syllables. It was mesmerizing. Intoxicating. The simplest
of words. She could die happy if it was the last thing she heard.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he said in a raspy voice. His weight pressed her into the mattress, surrounded her with his warmth. “You take my breath away when you smile. When you look at me with those green eyes, I get lost.”
“Lance—”
“Samantha.”
His lips crashed down on hers, fierce and demanding. She embraced it, latching on to the feeling of being lost in his arms. His tongue provoked, searched the hollows of her mouth. She was clinging, aching, her mind racing.
The memory of their last coupling seemed a thousand miles away as his hands expertly touched and caressed every inch of her body. It was better than she’d imagined. His rough hands felt as if transformed to silk, her body melting and molding beneath the strength of his grip, the stroke of his fingers.
Desire hummed through her body. She wanted more. Their lips parted. She was panting, needing everything he offered. His hands grasped her hips, and in one smooth motion, he was inside her.
“Lance!” Her body jerked at the pleasure, the mind-numbing rockets of electricity shooting through her. Even though he was inside her, it wasn’t close enough.
She ached for more, unable to control her lips and hands; they were all over him. He moaned, growled, and gripped her tightly as his strokes came faster, harder.
“Look at me,” he said breathlessly.
She was helpless beneath him. With bliss surrounding her, she opened her eyes and stared into the depth of his eyes. They captured her, held her hostage. Her breath caught in her throat as his pace quickened.
A slow tendril of fire licked at her thighs, growing and racing up her spine as her body erupted around him. She dug her nails into his back, crying his name. Stars. She actually saw stars. With one final stroke, Lance’s body tensed and collapsed around her. His hot breath puffed in her ear. She shivered. “Samantha,” he whispered.