His research on this topic was done—except for the matter of the boy.
Chapter Ten
She awoke to the tapping sounds, as if there were a troop marching softly in the distant hills. Curled on the sofa in Sam’s office, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, refusing to open them, refusing to think of Sam or Cody or Alexa or Mikhail or her own uncertain future. She simply wanted to lay here in purgatory and enjoy the soft rhythm that permeated her foggy mind, the tempo of Sam creating, writing, pecking on the computer as he wove yet another masterpiece firmly together.
But reality was all too deafening. Her limbs heavy, she remained still as the phone broke into her reverie and buzzed at his desk.
“Hello?” he said softly as he plucked the receiver from its cradle. “Yes. Yes, this is Sam Phoenix.”
There was a pause, then, “Hello, Miss Nielson. How is Cody doing?”
“I see, well that’s wonderful. Did you look into the matter I proposed to you?”
Tania could hear the garbled buzz of the woman’s voice over the phone as it carried across the room, yet she was unable to make out her response.
There was a shuffling, as if Sam were attempting to control his nervousness—or was it anger?—by shifting his position and that of the items on his desk. “Miss Nielson,” he mumbled faintly, turning his back on Tania. “I know how the foster care system works. I’ve been there myself.”
Tania’s eyes popped open. She could see him hunched in the chair behind his desk, as if he were attempting to hide from the world. But his words sent her antennas on alert. Had she heard him correctly? He’d been in the foster care system before?
Her mind whirled with the possibility. Had he been through a similar childhood of neglect and uncertainty, and all the while, she’d been ranting and raving about how he had no idea what she’d been through, no inkling of what scars a bad childhood could do to you? Had she been so selfish that she’d been neglectful herself, that she’d failed to realize that she wasn’t the only person on the planet for whom terrible things could happen?
Suddenly ill, nauseous with herself, she rose and perched herself on the edge of the sofa, waiting patiently for Sam’s phone conversation to conclude. When he said his good-byes and turned to replace the phone at its base, she saw a man determined and selfless.
Holding her gaze to him until his eyes found hers, she said softly, “You were a foster child?”
Suddenly preoccupied, he snatched his gaze from her and began saving his document, shutting down the computer.
“Sam?” She rose and came to stand at his side behind the desk. “Answer me.”
With a sigh, he shoved himself from the desk and stood to tower over her. “Yes, Tania. I was a foster child from the time I was eight, until just before I went away to college and was able to begin supporting myself.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, he asked accusatorily, “Tell you what? That I knew what it was like to be neglected, to have no hope, to be shuffled from one place to another?”
Shamed, Tania looked away and studied the books on the shelves behind him. Meshed into all the reference material and fiction novels were copies of his own published works, reminders that he’d weathered the worst conditions and triumphed against all odds. He’d gone for double or nothing—and gotten a tenfold return on his wager.
“Yes, that, and the fact that you’d been in the system, as I was to a degree.”
His hands slid up her arms and came to rest at her shoulders. With a gentle shake, he replied, “Would it have mattered in the beginning?”
The warmth emanating from his hands, spread through her like a blazing fire on a starlit night, aglow on the range. Suddenly, she yearned for home, yearned to be surrounded by her beloved ranch and all the people who made it her home.
And especially Sam Phoenix.
His question speared her painfully, and she knew the answer without a doubt. Lashes lowering, she whispered, “I have been so selfish.”
“No, Tania,” he drew her into his arms. “You’ve been through a horrible nightmare that you’ve always had trouble awaking from. But I’m determined to wake you gently and bring you back into reality. Our reality. Us.”
Images of a handsome young Sam bouncing back and forth between foster homes, filled her mind. Reaching for him, she cupped his face in her hands and rose on tiptoe to plant a butterfly-soft kiss on his lips.
“I’m so sorry, Sam. So sorry I was so self-absorbed, and so very, very sorry you had to go through that.”
His gentle smile was fueled by hope, hope that there would be a future for them. “Hey, I’m a famous author.” He lifted his nose in the air with mock arrogance. “I have the advantage of rewriting my past, if I choose to.”
Returning his smile, she blew out a self-disgusted breath and added, “Then you might just want to write me right out of your past.” Jaw set, she added, “And I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”
“No, darling,” he rebutted, pressing a finger to her lips. “You’ve already gone to print. You’ve been published into my life, and I refuse to return you back to the warehouse.”
Her arms slipped around him as her heart swelled with emotion. Pressing her cheek to his wide chest, she asked, “Why, Sam? Why were you in foster care?”
Clutching her to him, as if it were his last moment with her, he closed his eyes at the relief that flooded him when her arms went willingly about him. Sighing, he replied, “My parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was eight years old. I had no other family. No brothers or sisters, no aunts, uncles nor grandparents. I was an orphan.”
Tania’s mind fought a battle, for she now starved to know every detail about him, yet she couldn’t bear to hear of the horrible pain he must have suffered. “Oh, Sam…” she groaned.
“Shh. No tears for me.” His hand came up to stroke her hair. “I lived in a few very good homes, but all the rest were hell. So, at the age of seventeen, I split and took off on my own. I know what it’s like to sleep on a cold park bench, Tatiana, but I also knew that it would not be a permanent scenario. Granted, I was older than you when I was finally thrust out on my own, but I was still immature yet determined enough to make something of myself, to do what I had to survive…like you.”
“Like marrying a convict on death row?” she nearly spat, drawing away from him, now ashamed that she’d gone to such measures.
Chuckling, Sam swung her off the floor and up into his arms before she could take flight. Looking down into her startled expression, he pressed his lips firmly to hers. With an exaggerated smack, he lifted his head and replied, “You betcha, baby.”
“Can you forgive me, Sam?” she asked, her eyes alight with a hopeful blue glow.
Carrying her up the hallway to his bedroom, he laid her gently upon the rumpled bed. “There’s nothing to forgive, babe.” He stripped his clothes off and joined her on the bed, pressing the full length of his naked body to her clothed one. “Just love me.”
It was a simple request, one she’d already silently given him. Slowly, she rid herself of her own clothing and reached for him, her eyes gleaming like twin jewels of blue topaz. “I do love you, Sam.” She ran her hand down the firmness of his chest, then wrapped her hand about his hardening shaft. “I think I’ve loved you since you ravished me in the prison.”
Sam gasped, more from her words than her actions. But the demands of the flesh overrode his need to further discuss her declaration. Reaching down, his eyes clinging helplessly to hers, he disengaged her hand and rolled her over, flat onto her stomach. His eyes first perused her from valley to curve to smooth, silky flesh, his hands following in their dazed wake. He began with her scalp, massaging, stroking, rubbing her down, and made his way over her neck, shoulders, back and rounded bottom.
Tania was in heaven. Relief flooded her, for she’d never said those words romantically to any man before, never felt this absolute exhilarating sensation that only
love could bring. Her whole body and soul tingled with the nearness of him, the tender ministrations as he selflessly worshipped her bare body, his hands going delicious places, exploring.
Moaning, she repeated, “Sam, I do love you.”
His arm slid between her hips and the mattress, and he rolled her over so that he could study the front of her body. He lounged on his left side facing her as she laid on her back. “It’s all I want, Tatiana,” he whispered, now worshipping her torso, her bosom, her apex with one hand. "All I want is you and your love. My wife."
Her body felt heavy, relaxed, yet it zinged with life from his every touch. He reached down and lifted her knees and placed her legs so they were bent over his hip, causing her body to form an X with his. The thickness of him was pressed against her buttocks and the lower backside of her thigh. One arm folded under his pillow, the other free to roam, Tania watched him position her for his next unique sex session. Still on her back, her legs propped over his hip, she closed her eyes as his hand gripped her far side and then, sweet mother of fire, he slipped sensuously into her.
The ecstatic thrill of tingly-hot flames that shot through her, rendered her suddenly breathless. Being impaled, yet having no physical body over or behind her, was a most carnal tactic on his part. Still feeling deliciously lazy, she went limp and allowed him to move in and out of her, slowly milking her juices so that his shaft glistened with her wetness. A languid but determined ache bloomed within her womb, but that was quickly catapulted into a rush of desire when he found her clitoris with his finger. The hand under his pillow moved down at the same moment, and plunged under her buttocks where he caressed and kneaded the flesh of one cheek rhythmically with each stroke of his cock into her.
Their breathing was deep, deliberate, almost leisurely. She opened her eyes with a languid coolness, and her heart nearly burst from her chest. He was watching her, his eyelids heavy with passion. She saw the love there, the want, the need, and it became her own. He was worshipping her, applying his skill to bring her to the heights of orgasm, yet he was in no hurry, and yet it seemed he warred with his own restraint.
Until now, her hands had laid unmoving at her sides. But, though she wished for the lovemaking to go on sensuously, wickedly slow, she needed something between her legs. Lifting her leg which lay closest to his knee, she planted it between his bent ones. Dragging his tense leg up between her thighs, she gripped behind his knee and pulled until she could rub herself against his leg. The sensations were mind-blowing. Though she remained on her back and he on his side facing her, the angle at which he pressed into her was almost more than she could bear. The move had shoved him deeper inside her, reaching a virginal spot. The tip of his penis had found a hidden jewel, one that compared in intensity to her clitoris. Did she have two of them? she wondered, ecstatic with the thought of it.
"Oh, yes!" she cried out, arching her back as Sam expertly stimulated the secret spot inside her.
"Ah, Tatiana," he said on a groan.
Before now, Sam had never experienced such sweet, adoring intimacy with another woman. She was his heart, his soul, his life. With each stroke, each whimper and moan he elicited from her, he fell deeper and deeper into love. Gripping her tightly to him, his hand dipped between their legs to the essence of her fire, stroking expertly. Her cries of passion echoed in his head, slamming through him, engorging him further.
“Tatiana,” he said huskily. “Come with me.” He put firmer pressure on her clit. “Come with me all the way to paradise.”
“Sam…” she panted, the swell of sweet release building. “Sam,” she crooned. “Now—I'm coming now!” Tania shivered as the billowing, white-hot ache washed over her, through her. Like a shock of electrical voltage, she felt her body zap as it jerked reflexively against Sam’s.
Obliging, inflamed by her urgency, he watched as her breasts quivered with her release, her eyes clamped tightly shut against the onslaught of bliss. Then he buried himself to the balls as the first waves of ecstasy embraced him, and he joined her in paradise. Together, they inhaled sharply, paused, and then drew out the rapture of their love, savoring every last second.
In shock, Sam clung to her, convulsing in a never-ending, wave of pure bliss melded with desperation. One last jolt, and he toppled back to earth.
***
But for their labored breathing, the house was peacefully still. Tania lay on her side, Sam curled spoon-fashioned behind her. His arm was wrapped about her, and she twined her hand with his, clinging, holding him tightly to her.
Warm and sated, she reflected on a life that had begun quite the opposite. Yet, it had been almost seventeen years since the guardian angel who’d turned out to be her father, had rescued her from hell. Had she truly wasted all these last sixteen years living within the first ten of her life?
The answer was painfully alive in the man who now held her tenderly in his arms, uncaring as to where she’d come from, nonjudgmental, unconditionally loving and kind. She’d spurned all those who’d played a part in her life since being rescued, and had continued to be that child seeking the necessities of life, rather than giving love in return to those who loved her without requirements attached.
Her grandfather, while manipulative and nosy, had wanted only love and happiness for her, and had provided her with the very necessities she’d feared being without. Never—until that last demand that she marry and provide him with heirs—had he asked for anything in return.
Clay, who had reared her with a gentle hand and provided her with a wealth of knowledge and skills, had stepped back and quietly allowed her to take over as foreman of the ranch, even though he had been the most experienced ranch hand in the county. Not once did he ever ask anything of her; always, he had watched her from afar with a paternal pride, gifting her with all the glory and self-esteem that, as a small child, had been wrenched from her.
And now Sam Phoenix, renowned author, charismatic, sexy man, loving and devoted father. Neither had he required anything from her, save a stolen kiss or a moment of delicious passion. Why had she treated him with such disdain? Why had she pushed him so far away, she’d nearly lost him for good?
Anger.
Fear.
And there was no one to blame but herself, no one to point a finger at. Not even her mother.
Sabina Petrov had been a selfish woman herself, carting Tania off to places of unknown danger, defying Mikhail for the sake of self-preservation. Yes, Sabina could be blamed for that chapter of Tania’s life; but all that had come to be since that glorious day that Clay Westly, sent by her grandfather, had rescued her from her dingy cardboard box, was completely of her own doing.
Anger at the ten years of childhood lost and thrust into horrid conditions, had festered inside her for the last sixteen years, never healing, always crusting and oozing. By choice, she had picked at that scab with a fear of the famine returning to her life, scratched and ground until the scar tissue built up into a bitter woman who refused to accept—and appreciate—the fact that the pain was over, the nightmare had ended, and that she’d finally awoken and was fully in control of her life.
Yes, it had all been by her own choice.
With a sigh, Tania rolled over to face Sam. Her eyes caressed him as he slumbered, from the adorably ruffled dark hair falling over his brow, to the straight nose and slightly parted lips, lips that had touched her tenderly, body and soul. On his side, he’d bunched the pillow beneath his head. While one sinewy arm lay hidden beneath it, the other remained on her hip. Built like an Adonis, sculpted and fine-tuned, he was a superb work of art.
And if she chose, he was hers, she thought with a delicious shiver of anticipation.
Her gaze slid slowly from his chest to the narrow waist, and down below where his manhood finally lay at rest. Long, muscular legs twined through the sheets, a soft spray of dark curls about them. Voracious, he’d made love to her time and again through the day and night, never failing to gift her with multiple spasms of release.
Trailing a finger over the taut abdomen, Tania bypassed that wonderful appendage and ran her palm over one thigh, relishing the feel of the soft curls as they tickled her smooth flesh.
This was the here and the now.
This was no frightening ghost of the past.
This was her husband, every fabulous, lean inch of him.
“You’re going to wear me thin, so thin and feeble, I’ll never be able to raise my hands to the keyboard again,” Sam said huskily.
Her heart jolted. Eyes darting to his bemused face, Tania replied with a sly grin, “You’re an evil man.”
His fingers splayed wide while his hand slid around to clasp one cheek of her buttocks and draw her against him. “The devil himself, ready, willing, and very able, despite the ongoing exhaustion from your insatiable appetite.”
She nipped his lip with her teeth, and to retaliate, he came over her and pinned her to the bed. Pale hair fanned across the mattress. A newfound expression of joy in her limpid eyes, Sam was rendered speechless as he looked down upon her.
Tania saw the look of forever in his eyes, and while she knew she was only steps behind him, she still needed to slow the journey, for she’d only just come into her own self-realizations. Time was all they needed, time to settle into a routine.
They needed home.
Raising a hand to his stubbled cheek, Tania whispered, “I miss Alexa. Let’s go home.”
She couldn’t have said more endearing words of love to him. Sam felt the tight knot in his belly loosen, and the scrap of hope in his heart ignite. Rising naked from the bed, he extended a hand to her. “My sentiments exactly.”
***
The iron-gray clouds rolled in like smoke from a timber fire, tinged with an odd, faint green melded into the cooling atmosphere. The high winds carried with it, debris from the nearby structures, hay, chicken feathers, feed grain, lunch trash left on the tailgates of pickup trucks. Puffs of loose soil were lifted, spun, tossed into the next field. And there was the distinct scent of rain and torrential weather in the air.
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