by Diana Gardin
“That’s enough,” said Sam firmly. “It will pay the electric and buy some groceries. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
He headed back toward his bedroom. He only stayed here because he knew that without him she wouldn’t make it. She barely kept a job, and he had to make sure she was eating right and making it to work on time. She lived half a life, and without Sam around she would just cease to stop living at all.
Not that she appreciated the fact that he stayed. Hunter hadn’t stayed. He’d gotten a house of his own. It was only across town, but still. He’d moved out. Sam hadn’t.
He stripped off his shirt on the way back to his bedroom, eager to change out of his oily work clothes.
“Wait,” his mother said.
He turned around with a sigh, waiting on the berating that was surely coming.
“Why do you bother?” she asked seriously. “You know how I feel about you. Why do you give me money?”
“Because you’re my mother,” he answered simply. “And I love you.”
Her eyes wandered down to the tattoo on his stomach. “Ugh. I hate that thing. Of course you had to become a tatted-up meathead, just like your good-for-nothing father. What does it even mean?”
And there it was. He’d gotten his tattoo last year. The Old English letters stretching across his abdomen read RISE. It reminded him every morning of what he had to do in order to survive the day. All he had to do was rise. If he did that, he could make it through one day and move to the next.
He headed back to his room, slamming the door behind him. As soon as it was shut, he heard the front door open, and Hunter’s voice boomed through the tiny trailer. His mother’s gleeful response made him grimace. She never sounded like that when she talked to Sam.
Hunter made his way back to Sam’s room and threw the door open.
“Hey, little bro. She drive you to drink yet?”
“Not yet. Day’s not over, though.” Sam’s wry response was the way they always greeted each other.
Sam’s cell phone began buzzing on his bed, cheerfully singing “Home” by Phillip Phillips.
“Ever,” Sam said, more to himself than to Hunter.
He picked it up. He heard her screams before he had a chance to say hello.
“Ever! Ever, sweetheart!” Sam began pulling his shirt back on and then swiftly opened his bedroom door to run back down the hallway.
“Sam! He’s going to kill me!” Ever’s voice was more panicked than he’d ever heard it.
She didn’t usually sound like this. She was resigned to her fate. Beatings every time her father drank. And lately, he drank every single night. They’d known it was getting worse, that it would soon come to a head.
They’d tried to go to the authorities, but Ever’s father was a good ole’ boy, just like the sheriff. No one would help; no one would listen. In Duck Creek, a family’s business should stay inside the family.
“Baby, I’m coming,” Sam said. “Stay with me. Are you in your room?”
He pulled on his shoes and he went flying out the front door with Hunter right behind him. They began to sprint across the field that separated the trailer park from Ever’s house.
She didn’t answer. Now all he could hear was her screams.
“Ever!” he yelled. “Get it. Get it now. Use it if you have to!”
A few months ago, Sam had asked Hunter to purchase a gun for Ever. He gave it to her because she was the only person he knew who’d have use for a pistol. It was in a box under her bed, and he’d showed her how to load it and take the safety off. They’d been doing target practice in the cornfield, making targets out of soda cans and beer bottles. She knew how to handle it.
But he knew she wouldn’t want to. The last thing she’d ever want to do is use that gun.
Hunter and Sam heard the shot ring through the night when they were halfway there. They froze, and the line went dead in Sam’s hand.
He sprinted the rest of the way and took the steps up to the front door two at a time.
When he burst through the entrance he found her. She wasn’t crying anymore, she wasn’t screaming. She was lying next to her father’s dead body, which was bleeding out on the living room floor.
Sam crouched next to her and gathered her into his arms.
“Ever,” he breathed into her ear. “You’re safe, baby. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She looked at him dully. “I killed him. He knew the sheriff, Sam. They were like brothers. I’m going to jail for this. I know I am.”
“No,” Sam said firmly. “You’re not.”
She pulled back and met his eyes. “But—”
“You’re not going to jail,” he repeated. “Because we’re going to tell them that I shot him.”
“Sam!” Hunter’s voice came from the door, where he still stood staring. “No. You aren’t doing this.”
“Yeah, I am,” he said, his eyes still locked with Ever’s. “You know it’s the only way to keep her safe. And she deserves that after everything that bastard put her through. Should have been me who killed him anyway.”
Hunter’s sigh from the door echoed around the room, and Sam knew his brother would do what he asked.
He tossed his keys to Hunter. “Go get my bike. Park it by the highway, through the woods. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”
He turned back to Ever. “We’re going to do this, sweetheart. And everything is going to be okay. You tell them that you called me when your dad came banging on your door and I came over. Tell them I brought my gun. We struggled, and the gun went off. It was me. I killed him. That’s your new truth, okay? Do you hear me?”
She nodded numbly. “But where will you go?”
“I’ll go…somewhere far away. I haven’t figured that part out just yet, Ever. I’m thinking on the fly here. But this much is certain. When things clear up here, I’ll send for you, and we’ll be together. Somewhere else. Not in Duck Creek. Okay?”
She nodded again and flung her arms around his neck. They sat that way for a minute, just squeezing the strength out of each other, neither wanting to let go.
“You’ve always protected me,” she whispered into his neck. “God, Sam. Always.”
“Always will,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “Always will.”
They slowly rose together, not looking again at the dead man on the floor. They left the house, not looking back, and headed for the woods. For Sam’s getaway.
Twenty
Aston parked outside the front doors of the main house and darted out of the car. She ran for the trail past the tree line, heading straight for the tack house. When she arrived at the door, she pounded hard, beating her fists against the wood with a ferociousness that was only matched by the beating inside her chest.
Sam opened the door, rubbing his eyes against the cold light of the moon streaming into the tack house.
“Aston?”
She strode past him into the living room, whirling when she got to the countertop and staring him down. Her eyes were full of fire and angst, and Sam wasn’t sure which emotion took precedence.
“What are you doing here?” he asked hoarsely.
“I can’t do this with you anymore, Sam! You can’t keep any guy from being with me and then walk away. You can’t say those things and then leave me by myself. This isn’t just about you.”
“Aston—” he started, but she held up a hand.
“No. No more explaining why we can’t be together. No more telling me about all the reasons we aren’t a good idea.”
She closed the distance between them with quick strides, until her chest was heaving against his rib cage. He stared determinedly at a spot above her head, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
“You shouldn’t be here right now,” he whispered, refusing her glare. “I don’t want to—”
“You don’t want to what, Sam?” she asked.
She reached up and grabbed hold of his stubbled chin, jerking it hard enough that he’d look a
t her. The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking. She swallowed and steeled herself against it.
“You don’t want to talk to me? Who else are you going to talk to?” She reached down for the hem of his soft gray T-shirt and yanked it up until he relented, raising his arms over his head. His eyes now burned holes into hers.
“You don’t want to touch me? Fine. I’ll touch you.” She ran her hands over his chest, feeling his rock-hard muscles twitch as she touched them. She grazed her fingers over the black letters etched out across his stomach. RISE. That word had new meaning for her now that she knew him. After all he’d been through, and she still didn’t know the half of it, he’d risen again and again. And now she wanted him to rise to the occasion for her, tonight. Her thumbs found his nipples, and she rubbed slow circles around them as she stared up at his face.
Sam closed his eyes, his lips parting. His hands fisted at his sides, as if he were willing himself not to touch her.
“Don’t do this,” he pleaded softly. “I want you, you know I do. Don’t push me, Princess. Please don’t.”
He groaned as she leaned in and took a swipe at his chest with her tongue. He trembled all over. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what, Sam?” she asked, her voice softening to a sexy whisper. “Can’t you see that this is right?”
She reached down for her own shirt, felt the fabric stretch as she threw it off. Her lacy bra was cut low enough that her breasts peeked over the cups as she breathed deeply, inhaling the masculine, woodsy scent that was Sam. She smiled in satisfaction as she watched his eyes find them and darken with his need. She wanted to smell that scent all over her body as his entire being melded with hers.
“Jesus, Aston,” Sam said in the low growl that told her she was winning.
His arms went around her then. “You’re so damn beautiful. I can’t handle this. Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can’t stay away from you anymore,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to.”
She backed out of his arms, satisfied as they reached out in her absence. She undid the button of her jeans and slid them down over her hips, over her calves, then kicked them off completely.
“Dammit,” Sam growled.
He stepped toward her. “Aston, you don’t know what you’re starting. How am I supposed to stay strong when you’re stripping for me in my living room?”
“I’m a big girl, Sam,” she said. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He took another step toward her; only one more step and he’d be upon her.
“I need you to stop me,” he begged. “Just put your clothes back on. Sit on the couch and we can talk.”
She stuck out her chin, shaking her head slowly. “It’s not gonna happen, Waters. I’m all talked out.”
She saw every good-guy line he had fly out of his brain and she dripped with anticipation.
He reached out, grabbing her tightly and encircling his arms around her waist. He pushed against her, backing her up until her skin hit wall, his body pressing tightly against hers. The skin-to-skin contact elicited a gasp from her. His lips were upon hers before she could say anything else, and she accepted them willingly. She moaned as his tongue invaded her mouth, and ran her hands over his hair.
“Aston, baby,” he said against her lips. “You have no idea how bad I want you.”
His hands dropped to cup her ass and he squeezed gently, groaning as he kneaded her soft flesh beneath his fingers. Lifting her, she wrapped her legs around him and squeaked as his rock-hard erection grinded against her hot center.
His lips broke free of hers only to nip at the satiny skin of her neck and kiss a trail along her collarbone. He rocked his hips gently, and the sensation of his jeans rubbing against her and his lips on her skin almost caused her to rocket into space before they’d barely begun.
She couldn’t stop the sound of pleasure that escaped her; his lips on her like this, his attention so totally focused on her body…it was delight in its purest form and she couldn’t even begin to control her reaction to it.
“You wanted my attention, Aston? Here it is.” He tugged her hair gently to tip her head to the side, exposing her slender neck. He focused on the familiar spot where her pulse raced beneath her skin. “This spot. Right here.” His tongue darted out from his mouth to lick it, and heat surged from her belly downward.
“You rub that spot when you’re thinking…I’ve seen you do it so many times while we’re working. I’ve wanted to put my lips on it.”
“More,” she gasped, reaching to unbutton his jeans and shove them to the floor.
He obliged, moving his lips back to her skin and thrusting against her again. The friction he was causing with his motion built a fire deep within her, and his low noises of approval fueled her straight toward oblivion. He continued to grind, moving faster against her until she was calling his name urgently into his hair.
“That’s it, Princess,” he whispered roughly. “Go ahead and come for me.”
That growl of a whisper was all it took to send her over a cliff, and she fell into pieces against him, trembling and shuddering with shaky breaths.
He growled and lifted her easily in his arms. She squeezed her legs tighter around his waist and draped herself weakly around him. He walked, still tasting her, to the bedroom and kicked the door closed behind them.
“No interruptions,” he murmured urgently. “I don’t want anything to stop us tonight.”
“Me either,” she answered, dropping her head back so he had better access to her neck.
Sam dropped her down on the bed following closely behind her, not breaking the connection of his lips to her flushed and fiery skin.
He stared down as he held himself steady above her on his hands, and she took in the sight of this huge beautiful specimen of a man hovering over her. He was always so good, such a gentleman, and yet he’d just made her come while screaming his name against the wall in his living room. She shuddered.
He continued to stare, locking in on her eyes and holding her gaze with bated breath. She was afraid to let go of the air gathered in her lungs; if she did, this dream playing out in front of her eyes might vanish.
She’d never wanted someone inside her as badly as she wanted Sam inside her right now. The way he’d moved against her in the other room until she fell apart made her body sing with anticipation of having him fill her up completely.
“I dreamed about this,” he whispered, holding her eyes with his own. “But the real you is so much better.”
He bent his head, kissing the swell of her breast as it plumped out of the top of her bra. He held his lips still against her skin, and she breathed heavily underneath him. He seemed frozen by the sound of her violently beating heart hammering against her chest.
His eyes. That mad, flaming passion in his liquid-brown eyes was in reaction to her. It was unfathomable; it caused her own heart rate to speed up in response.
“I know how much you like to drive,” he murmured against her skin. She lifted up as his arms went around her, assisting him to remove her bra, exposing her to him fully. Time stood still as she watched him, slowly, so slowly, take her nipple into his mouth. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut and the softest of moans escaped her.
It was his turn to close his eyes.
“Princess,” he said softly. “If you keep making those sexy little noises, I’m gonna come all over this bed. I don’t want that to happen, because I wanna come inside of you.”
She gasped at his words, this bad-boy side of Sam was doing crazy things to her body and her mind.
“What,” she gasped. “Were you saying about me driving?”
“Well,” he said as his nose brushed against her stomach. “Do you want to take control here? Because I’m very happy to let you”—he grabbed the backs of her thighs and prepared to roll her over—“let you take the wheel.”
He stared down at her, waiting for her response.
She contemplated letting him roll her over so that s
he could take over the moment, and normally that would be exactly what she wanted to do. But the memory of the moments before, out in the living room…she wanted him dominating her all night long.
She looked at the man she’d been waiting months for, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t want control. She shook her head, never breaking his gaze.
“I trust you, Sam,” she whispered.
His eyes softened at the corners and he pulled her body suddenly against him so her shape melded perfectly with his much larger one. He lowered his head to hers, taking her lips hostage again and kissing her with a desire she never expected to feel from him. A desire she never expected to feel from anyone, ever.
He reached between them tracing a trail along her stomach with his fingers, stopping at the edge of her panties, completely taking her breath away. Her heart stopped as his fingers stilled, and she whimpered softly in anticipation of their continued journey.
“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he whispered. “So long, Princess. The fact that you want me, too…it blows my mind. It makes me crazy. Just like…just like the sounds you’re making right now are diving me up the goddamned wall.”
His fingers continued their exploration, one aching millimeter at a time, skimming along the top of her panties and feeding the fire that was almost burning his fingers.
“Do you want me to take these panties off and touch you? Really touch you?”
She could only nod furiously.
He picked up the fabric and let it snap back, eliciting a gasp from her that almost rendered him speechless. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she knew that he wanted an answer.
“Yes,” she moaned. “God, yes, Sam. Please touch me.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Say that again, Princess,” he said, his voice rough.
“Sam,” she whispered. “Touch me. I want you to.”
With a groan, he reared up so he could pull her panties down her legs and toss them aside. His fingers slid along her folds to find hot wetness. He pushed a finger inside her and she sighed with the anguishing pleasure of his touch. She’d been touched before, she’d made love before; but no experience she’d had with Princeton compared to the sensation Sam’s touch gave her.