by Penny Wylder
“Hello.”
A second later Zeus is at the door, pushing past Sam and out to me. I lean down to pet him. “He seems better.”
“He is,” Sam agrees. “I’ve already started to change his diet. He seems to like it.”
“Good,” I say to Zeus. “A good boy deserves a good diet.”
Sam laughs softly. “Come on in.”
The inside of the house is nothing like his family’s mansion on the other side of town. That is glitzed out and over decorated and a pure statement of wealth. Sam’s house is just shy of minimalist. Dove gray walls and white trim and simple additions of color here and there make it look like it’s something out of a home magazine. “Your house is beautiful,” I say.
“Thank you.” He smiles knowingly. “Were you expecting it to look like my parents’ house?”
A blush creeps up my neck. “A little.”
“Not really my style,” he says.
“I can’t say I’m mad about that,” I say, following him deeper into the house. “So why am I really here?”
He turns, glancing over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I—” I pause, realizing I need to choose my words carefully. “I just don’t understand the invitation.”
“I enjoy your company,” he says. “And we never got to finish our game of twenty questions.”
We walk into a kitchen that my father would lose his mind over, and it smells amazing. “You’re cooking?”
He laughs. “I wasn’t going to order take-out.”
I sit down at his bar, a little embarrassed that was my assumption. “I just can’t really imagine you cooking.”
“That’s cause you’re imagining me in high school trying to cook.”
“That’s true,” I laugh. “I think that you would have probably burned water.”
He stirs something on the stove, and peers into the oven. “I can’t say that I’m the best cook in the world, but once I moved in here I started to give it a try. I like it a lot, and when I do get it right or try something new it’s really satisfying.”
“What are we having?”
Sam opens the oven and pulls out a tray of bread. “Nothing fancy. Just some alfredo. And no, I didn’t bake the bread from scratch if that’s what you’re going to ask next.”
“I was. Does that count of one of my questions?”
He’s straining pasta out of the pot and disappears in a cloud of steam. “Nah, I’ll let it slide.”
“Okay,” I say. “What’s your absolute favorite thing to cook?”
“Chili,” he says, pouring the pasta back into the pot. “I like things that cook slowly. Things I can take my time with, and make sure they’re perfect.” He pulls the last pan off the stove and comes around the bar, wiping off his hands on a towel. “My turn.”
He turns my stool so he’s standing between my legs. Close. Way too close.
“If you had met me yesterday,” he says, “if I had come into the clinic and we had no history together, would you have gone out with me if I’d asked?”
“Yes.” God, on the one hand, I want that. I want our slate to be wiped clean and for us to have no memories and all discovery, nothing that would stand between us. But all those memories just make me want him more. And I’m not sure I’d want to trade that away, even if we’re stuck in a truce.
“Could—”
“Hey,” I cut him off. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”
It seems like for a second he’s going to protest, but he doesn’t. “Okay.”
“Did you know I worked in the clinic when you came in yesterday?” I’m trying to ignore how close he is to me, and how I could reach out and touch him, feel his body through that impossibly thin shirt. It’s not working.
Sam shakes his head. “I swear I didn’t. Someone had told me that the office was good a while back when I was thinking about doing some animal charity work. It popped into my head when I was worried about Zeus.” He takes a breath, and his face goes serious. I know this question is going to change the game somehow. “Do you think that we could pretend?”
There’s a flip in my stomach. I think I know what he’s asking, but I need to hear him say it. “Pretend what?”
He’s not touching me, but I can feel him. Feel the space in between us and how very small it is. “Pretend that we had never met. That I had asked you out yesterday and you said yes. For tonight, do you think that we could just have something simple?”
My heart aches in my chest. Wouldn’t it be nice to erase the past for a night? “Why?”
He reaches for me and I don’t stop him. Fingers curl around the back of my neck, and he presses his forehead against mine. The way we’re breathing the same air is almost unbearably intimate. “Because we have to survive,” he says. “I’m never going to stop wanting you, and we can’t keep giving the world some kind of show every time we see each other.”
I understand what he means. Give in this one time, on our terms, so that we can live without either throwing fire or kissing each other. The question is, can I do it? Is there another way? As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. This thing between us is going to come out, and we’d be smart to control it while we can. “One night?”
“Just one.”
I take a deep breath, because once I say yes there’s no turning back. “Okay.”
And then Sam kisses me.
8
The kiss is gentle, barely a brush of lips at first. There’s a tug in my gut, that there’s no way we can let go of everything while we do this, but I push it aside. I’m so tired of us, tired of fighting, and I just want to give in and forget, even if it’s just for the night.
I give into temptation and reach out, pulling him closer. His skin is hot through his shirt, and I let myself explore him. I didn’t have a chance to do that at the party or at the park. And it’s been a while since I’ve let myself truly enjoy someone else’s body. My last serious relationship ended over a year ago, and even with the occasional hookup, it’s not like this. My fingers find the hem of his shirt and then I’m able to feel his skin—the heat and the firm lines of him.
His hand still on the back of my neck, Sam tilts my face back and deepens our kiss. I lift up his shirt and we only break apart so I can get it over his head, and then his mouth is on mine again, no longer gentle. He kisses me until I’m dizzy, and he lifts me off the stool into his arms like I’m weightless. “Dinner?” I ask, voice already rough from kissing.
“We have time,” he says, not stopping. He carries me up the stairs and into what I can assume is his bedroom. Large windows look back over his property, the last colors of the sunset fading over distant trees. Setting me down on my feet, Sam doesn’t waste any time. He peels me out of my shirt, and it’s his turn to explore. His lips move along my collarbone, fingers down my spine and across my waist, and goosebumps follow everywhere he touches me.
“I’m going to like having you in my bed,” he says. “I’m going to taste you the way you wouldn’t let me last time, and now you don’t have to keep quiet.”
“No?”
His mouth brushes along my jaw. “Be as loud as you like, beautiful. Hearing you scream my name is a nice ego boost.”
I’m glad for the dim twilight because I’m blushing. Not because he wants me to scream his name, but because he called me beautiful. “I’ll remember that.”
Sam removes my bra and guides me back onto the bed. His hands keep moving, and I feel like I’m being touched everywhere. I gasp when his mouth covers my nipple. The way he uses his tongue is slow and deliberate, swirling around, drawing it into a tight peak. The brush of his teeth makes me shiver, and he repeats his movements on my other nipple, and back and forth until they’re almost aching. My breath is already short, and as he draws his mouth down between my breasts, I moan. His lips leave a line of fire on my skin, and I realize that he’s taking his time with me. He’s doing what he likes, and that sends a little thrill down my spine.
&nb
sp; Sam finishes undressing me, pulling off my shoes, and unbuttoning my jeans and tugging them off. And then his fingers curl into the band of my panties and he pulls them away. I shudder at the sudden brush of air on my pussy because I’m already wet and ready for him. For this. Sam’s mouth tips up into a smirk. “This is better than the dinner I had planned.”
I moan, louder this time because his tongue is clever. He licks into me, curling up and over my clit and back down to my entrance. Again and again, rolling over the sensitive nerves and making me jump. He doesn’t rush, slowing down and speeding up, being deliberately inconsistent. My hips tip up toward his mouth, begging for more, and he laughs against my skin. “Sam,” I say, but there’s nothing after that. Just his name.
“Yes?”
He seals his mouth over my clit, sucking it between his lips, and my brain turns to mush. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Oh God, YES. I didn’t even realize that I said that out loud until I feel the vibration of his laugh, and suddenly it feels like he’s not playing anymore. His tongue moves over me in long strokes, setting up a pulsing cadence that seems to lift pleasure upward and outward, bringing me closer to that invisible explosion. Sam’s hands grip my hips, holding me firmly against his mouth and I’m moaning, gasping, grabbing the comforter of his bed just for something to hold onto. I’m drowning in that pleasure that comes before the storm, and it feels so bright that I can’t keep my eyes open. “Sam, please,” I beg. My breath comes in little gasps and it seems to spur him on.
His tongue brings me closer, closer, closer, and then I shatter.
I cry out, shuddering with the explosion, fireworks flashing behind my eyes, every sensation layering one over the other and building before dropping away and leaving me breathless. Sam’s mouth is still on me, and little shocks of pleasure spark up and down my skin.
After taking a moment to strip, and put on a condom, Sam climbs up my body, stealing moments to kiss and lick and suck. I’m still dazed from the orgasm, each touch making me shiver. He kisses me, and I reach for him, trying to pull him down to me, but he doesn’t move. His eyes have that burning fire in them again, and I can’t wait to see what he does with it.
“I’m going to have you,” he says. “In every position. In every way I can think of before the night is over.” He guides me onto my stomach and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you.” His lips are at my ear, “and I’m going to fuck you thoroughly.”
The heat of him at my back and the erotic heat of his words have me dripping again. “Too sensitive,” I manage to say.
“That’s the idea.” Sam thrusts inside, and I groan because holy fuck it feels good. He spreads my legs wider, and he feels so big inside me. He’s working me in long, sure strokes that are hitting deep. It’s an entirely different kind of pleasure that blooms from deep in my gut instead of from my clit. It’s slow and shuddery and is already making me shake.
Sam puts his hands on mine, weaving our fingers together. And then he moves, guiding my right hand down and underneath, straight to my clit. With his hand on mine, he uses my hand to work my clit, and it’s too much. It’s all too much. The orgasm hits hard and fast and I’m not expecting it. I can’t breathe, bright searing pleasure races through my veins. My hand is soaked with my orgasm, and Sam’s too, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. He slows our fingers down, stroking gently while he fucks me harder.
He’s grunting with the effort, and I love that sound. I know that sound. It’s Sam on the edge of orgasm—a good orgasm—and I clench down on him, squeezing his cock as I hard as I can. Sam huffs out a breath. “Naughty girl.”
I find myself giggling, and then I can’t because he’s using my hand again and I’m so close and I don’t think there’s a way I can come again right now, but Sam is going to prove me wrong. He changes his angle, and suddenly I’m seeing stars. Each thrust hitting that spot that makes the whole world shine. He makes me work my clit and I go over the edge just in time for him to follow. We’re frozen together, each lost in our orgasm. His cock is jerking inside me and he groans into my skin. I can’t even make a sound because it’s all too much. I feel like every nerve in my body is sizzling with fiery pleasure.
I come back to earth and we’re both breathing hard, fingers still woven together, his cock still deep inside me.
“I’m not sure which is better,” he says into my ear, “hearing you scream my name or knowing that I fucked you speechless.”
I try to laugh, but I haven’t got enough breath back for that. He slips out of me, and I turn underneath him, and damn I like the way it feels to have him over me. The planes of his face are highlighted in the dim light, and it’s striking how beautiful it is. We’re staring at each other for a moment before he ducks away. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, God,” I say, rearranging myself onto one of the pillows. “I could just go to sleep after that.”
Sam laughs. “Sleep? We only have one night. I don’t think we can reasonably say that we’re finished yet.” He’s back on the bed, arm draped over my waist. “I did say I was going to have you in every position.”
I put a pillow over my head. “So sleepy.”
“That’s because we forgot to eat,” he says, ducking his head under the pillow with me. “We’ve still got alfredo.”
“It does sound really good.”
“Should I bring it up here?”
Laughing, I shove the pillow in his face. “Trust me, as clumsy as I am, I think you’d regret that decision.” I roll off the bed and take the sheet with me, wrapping it around my body. “You can serve me in the kitchen.”
Sam smirks. “Yes, your highness.”
I make my way down the stairs, trying not to trip on my sheet. But that’s not what nearly sends me tumbling—it’s the sight of a naked Sam walking past me to the kitchen. God, he’s got a great ass. And watching him heat up food for us, completely naked, is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. “Do you ever cook naked?” I ask.
He shoots me a knowing glance. “Sometimes. Though it’s generally not a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Hot things splashing and my cock don’t go well together.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I never thought I’d hear a man admit his cock doesn’t go well with something.”
“It’s the one and only time,” he says, setting a plate of alfredo on the bar in front of me. He perches on the stool next to me with his own plate, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s naked and that I can’t stop looking at him.
We eat in silence for a few minutes because I’m starving and the food is more delicious than anything else. When I start to feel the food hit my stomach, I speak up. “When did you move out here?”
“After college.” he says. “I stayed in my parents’ house through school, and once I graduated I bought this place. Best decision I could have made. I couldn’t wait to get out of that house.”
“I always thought you liked your parents’ house,” I say.
Sam glances at me. “I mean, it’s a nice house. But when you don’t get along with the people inside, it makes it hard. Or rather the one person.”
I know how much Sam—how much all the Logan boys— love their mother. So I can only guess that he means his father. Which is weird because Robert said pretty much the same thing at the engagement party. There’s something going on behind the scenes that I’m not aware of, and given the way Sam’s jaw is clenching, I don’t think I should ask. Not tonight when we’re pretending that some aspects of our lives don’t exist.
I finish my alfredo, and Sam hands me a glass of water. I drink the whole thing in a single gulp. I didn’t notice how thirsty I was. His parents’ house is floating around in my head, along with a question I’ve been wanting to ask. I was so caught up in the moment with him at the party, but thinking about it now I’m wondering if he would have done what he said. “I know this breaks the rules a little bit,” I say, “but I do have a question abou
t the party.”
He raises an eyebrow mid bite, waiting for me to ask.
“Would you actually have kept me quiet with your cock?”
Sam freezes, and I watch as his eyes go dark with lust. There’s no hiding the way he goes hard, cock jutting towards me as if we hadn’t just had sex less than an hour ago. “Yes, I would have,” he says.
My pussy goes liquid, because I can see it in my head. The way we were tangled together and the way he would have been on top of me, feeding his cock to me.
He stands off his stool, and his eyes are even with mine. Naked as he is, he looks all power and strength. My stomach does a little flip when he takes a step toward me. “You would have taken as much of me as you could, and you would have sucked me until I came, and you would have swallowed everything I gave you. And then,” he says, closing the distance between us, echoing where we were just hours ago, “after you’d learned your lesson about keeping quiet, I still would have fucked you.”
I don’t know where my breath has gone, but suddenly I feel like there’s no air in the room. I can see all of it in my mind’s eye, and the confidence, the surety with which he says it, makes me want it. I raise my chin, challenging him. I’m not going to tell him how much that arouses me. “Maybe,” I say. “But you got one thing wrong.”
“Oh, did I?” He’s peeling the sheet away from my body, barely listening.
“I would have taken all of you.”
9
Sam’s eyebrows raise into his gorgeous hairline, and his hand goes to his cock, stroking it. “You’ve never taken all of me,” he says, almost deadly calm, “and I’m bigger now then the time we’re pretending doesn’t exist.”
I don’t look away, because I know I’m right. In fact, I can’t help the self-satisfied smirk the comes to my face. This is something I’m very good at, and I know it.
This feels a little bit like a showdown, neither of us looking away. He’s waiting for me to admit that I can’t do it, and I’m waiting for him to realize that I’m serious. I let what’s left of the sheet clinging to me drop to the floor, and he breaks our stare, looking down at my body, and I heat up under his gaze. “Would you like me to prove it to you?” I ask softly.