by Ann Roth
He’d motioned her to the office, out of earshot of her curious students. Then, arms folded, he’d grilled her. “Why are you going out with Bob Swanson?”
The unexpected question had caught her off guard, and her jaw had dropped. “What?”
“He’s not right for you. I’ve checked him out. The man is a total womanizer.”
Nina and Dani had told her the same thing. Coming from Sam, the information seemed too much like a need to control. “You checked him out?” she sputtered, growing angrier by the moment. “I don’t need your protection, Sam. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”
“Do a friend a favor and look what happens?” he muttered.
“We aren’t friends, remember? We tried that and it doesn’t work.”
She had uttered the truth and they both knew it. Yet the moment the words left her lips, she wanted to call them back, for Sam had reeled as if she’d slapped him. His mouth compressed into a thin line. Then he gave a terse nod. Without another word, he pivoted away and strode out of the office. His back to her, he’d quickly collected his niece and several other girls and hurried them out.
Since then, Amy had felt restless, bewildered and out of sorts. She thought about apologizing, but no. Sam should apologize. This fight had been his fault. If he hadn’t meddled in her business… But rationalizations didn’t help. Somehow she felt responsible for what had happened this afternoon. And why must she rehash the scene yet again? Unable to sit still any longer, she rose. Maybe she’d get dressed and go to a movie.
The doorbell chimed. Who could that be? Amy wasn’t expecting anyone. She frowned, tightening the sash of her robe on the way to the door. She flipped on the porch light and peered through the peephole. Her frown turned to shock when she saw who stood there. Sam. She unlocked the door and opened it. Several moments passed before she found her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to tell you something,” he said. Despite the cool spring night, he wore a black T-shirt and no jacket. In the yellow porch light, his eyes were unreadable and his face shadowed. His gaze darted over her, making her acutely aware of her robe, bare legs and bare feet. And that she was naked underneath. Not that he could tell.
She hooked her right foot, the one with the biggest callus, behind her left ankle. That made her hip hurt, and she rubbed it absently. “Oh?”
He glanced over her shoulder, into the house. Amy thought about inviting him in, but decided against that. It was too dangerous. Last time they’d been alone, they’d nearly made love. Grasping the door, she nodded. “I’m listening.”
Sam shifted from one foot to the other, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I, uh—” Pausing, he cleared his throat. “About this afternoon and what I said. It’s your life and I shouldn’t have interfered.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” She started to fold her arms over her chest but remembered her robe, which liked to gape open. Grabbing the lapels she pulled them together.
“You’re right, you’re a grown woman—a strong, beautiful woman,” he said as his gaze again flickered over her. “Perfectly able to make your own decisions.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “I’m sorry I tried to tell you what to do.”
The words and Sam’s earnest expression went straight to her heart. “I shouldn’t have overreacted,” she said. “I know you meant well. I accept your apology.”
He peered at her as if evaluating her words. Then the air whooshed from his lungs, as if he’d been holding his breath. “Good.” After a moment, he scrubbed the back of his neck and shifted again. “I accomplished what I came here for. I’ll leave you alone now.”
“Would you like to come in?” she blurted out. Immediately she wanted to recall the offer, but it was too late. “Unless you have to pick up Mariah?” she asked hopefully.
Sam shook his head. “She’s at a slumber party.” He shrugged. “I can come in.”
He stepped into the entry, pausing to wipe his sneaker-clad feet on the throw rug. He was a big man, and he filled a good bit of the small space. His gaze roamed the living room, from the coved stucco ceilings and plate railings to the thick area rugs atop the polished hardwood floor. “Nice place,” he said with admiration. “Looks real homey. But then, you always were good at that.”
The compliment pleased her. “Thanks,” she said. Good manners compelled her to offer him a seat and refreshment. “Would you like a soft drink or a glass of wine?”
“Nothing, thanks.” He sank onto the couch, the most comfortable piece of furniture in the room, and exactly where Amy wanted to sit.
She considered asking him to scoot over, but quickly nixed that idea. Despite their strained relationship, the undercurrent of sexual awareness between them seemed as strong as ever. For that reason, she took the staid Queen Anne chair across the coffee table. Holding her lapels securely closed and keeping her knees tightly together, she sat down.
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, she racked her brain for something to talk about. Meanwhile, hands on his thighs, Sam regarded her openly. His attention made her self-conscious. She wished she’d put off the bath and had stayed in her street clothes. Instead, here she was with no makeup, in a robe and nothing underneath. At least it was a thick robe. There was no way for Sam to know she was naked under it.
Suddenly she was aware of the nubby terry cloth as it brushed her nipples. She felt them stiffen. Embarrassed, she pretended to brush a fleck of something from her sleeve. She studied Sam from lowered lids. With his snug jeans and relaxed posture, she couldn’t help a glance at the healthy bulge between his legs. She imagined herself boldly moving to the sofa, touching him there. He would groan and fling her against the cushions, and…
Amy swallowed. Antsy with yearning, she shifted. He hadn’t even moved and she wanted him. Oh, why had she invited him in? Thank heavens he couldn’t read her mind.
At last, Sam broke the silence. “It’s been one hell of a week.”
Glad for something to talk about, Amy nodded sympathetically. “Tell me about it. Exactly two weeks from tonight, my students will dance in their very first recital. You can’t imagine how—”
“I’m not talking about work,” he interrupted. “I’m talking about us.” Heat flared in his eyes.
“Oh.” Maybe he had read her mind. And maybe he should leave. Nervously, she fiddled with the sash of her robe. “Listen, Sam—”
“Amy, I—” he said at the same time.
The both stopped. “Go ahead,” Sam said.
“After you.”
Sam nodded. He glanced at the Tiffany-style light fixture and pulled on the neck of his shirt as if it were too tight. Finally he let out a breath and looked straight at her. “I don’t know how to say this so I’ll just say it straight. This…thing…between us is so strong, it’s killing me. I thought the feelings would go away if we didn’t see each other, so I’ve kept my distance all week. But that hasn’t helped. Neither have cold showers or long runs.” His anguished gazed sought hers. “I can’t stop thinking about you or wanting you.”
His words could have come from her own mouth. Her heart thudded in her chest. In a quandary over what to say, Amy chewed her lower lip. “Me, too,” she admitted at last.
“What are we going to do about it?” Sam asked.
“Don’t you remember? We decided to avoid each other.”
“Yet here we are, alone in your living room.” He laughed without humor. “Obviously we didn’t follow our own advice.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “The truth is, I need to make love with you.” He shot her a bold, sexy look. “And I think you need the same thing.”
“What?” she gasped. “Is this why you’re here? Because you want sex?”
He started to shake his head, then his brow furrowed as he thought about that. “Considering that I shoved a handful of condoms in my pocket before I left home, maybe it is.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “All I know is, we have to move past
this fixation with each other. That won’t happen until we get this passion out of our systems. Making love is the only way I can think of to do that.” He raised one brow. “Unless you have a better idea?”
Against her better judgment she considered the suggestion. Her rational mind knew that making love with Sam was a bad idea, yet her body yearned for him. “No.” Her insides were in turmoil, and she frowned. “We tried that with kisses, and it only made things worse.”
“Because kisses weren’t enough,” he said, shooting a hot look at her mouth.
“What makes you think making love once will end this craziness between us?”
Sam rubbed his chin. “It’ll have to. I don’t want to fall into old habits and patterns.” Pain registered in his eyes. “It hurts too much when it’s over.”
“It certainly does,” Amy added softly. Since they were speaking openly, she voiced her biggest worry. “What if we fall in love again?”
“We won’t,” he assured her with conviction. “Once was enough for me. And we both agree that I’m the wrong man for you.” He cast a clear-eyed yet heated gaze at her. “Let’s end this torture tonight. Make love with me, Amy.”
She could no more turn him down than she could stop breathing. With the decision made, every nerve in her body jumped to life. Swallowing audibly around her suddenly dry throat, she nodded.
Holding her gaze, Sam stood. He moved purposefully toward her.
She rose on legs that trembled and met him halfway.
There was no turning back.
Chapter Ten
SAM’S HEART POUNDED in his chest as he pulled Amy into his arms. He was already hard with need. She did that to him, and she didn’t even realize it. The way she angled her chin. Her laugh when she bit her lip. Executing a dance step, or arguing with him. No matter what she did, he wanted her. He was crazy in lust. And finally, finally he was going to get her out of his system. Eager to kiss her he tipped up her chin. Her sober expression stopped him.
“Having second thoughts?” he asked, praying she hadn’t changed her mind. If she turned him down now, he’d never be the same.
“No,” she said, to his relief. “It’s just, suddenly I’m a little nervous.”
That he could handle. “Don’t be.” He kissed the tip of her nose. She smelled clean and fresh with a hint of vanilla. “Why don’t I undo your braid, the way I used to?”
“Okay, but I should do yours first.”
Sam nodded and turned his back. She tugged at the elastic holding his hair back. An instant later his hair fell loose, hanging just short of his shoulders. He pivoted around. Standing on her toes, Amy tucked it behind his ears. “There,” she said, still sounding nervous.
“Thanks.” Sam smiled. “Your turn.”
She turned away, showing her back. He lifted the thick rope of hair from her back and fumbled with the elastic band at the end. He dropped it into the pocket of her robe, then spent a moment kneading her sore hip.
“Ah,” she sighed.
Under the soft flesh on her hips, he felt the lean muscle, tight and knotted. He worked a few minutes in silence. “How’s the pain now?”
“What pain?”
Sam grinned. “Back to your hair.”
Nodding, she bowed her head. He unraveled the ropes of her braid. Silken strands of light brown hair tickled his wrist and caught between his fingers. When he reached the base of her skull he gently raked his fingers through her hair until it rippled down her back. “All done,” he said. Then, just like he used to, he lifted the hair from her neck, bent down and kissed her nape.
A tremor shook through her. It had been a long time, but Sam knew what that meant. She wanted him. His own hands shook as he turned her to face him.
Her eyes were closed, and her dark lashes swept softly against her cheeks. An odd, tender feeling filled his chest, surprising given the force of his desire. Awed at the depth of emotion churning within, he cupped her upturned face and reverently kissed each eyelid. He planted a light kiss on the tip of her nose. Then he gently brushed her lips in a kiss so sweet that his knees threatened to give out. “Feeling better now?” he murmured against her lips.
Her eyes opened part way. They were dark and hot with desire. “Much better,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. She stretched up on her toes, pressed her body close, and kissed him with an eagerness that broadsided him.
His body caught fire. Nudging her lips open, he deepened the kiss. Her tongue tangled wildly with his. Tenderness forgotten, he grasped her behind and ground his hips against hers. “I want you, Amy. Feel how much.”
“I want you, too, Sam,” she murmured in a throaty, seductive voice. “We should go upstairs, to my bedroom.”
“Uh-huh,” he replied, but he didn’t think he could make it that far. He nuzzled the sensitive place where her neck met her shoulder. Needing to touch her, he slipped his hand inside her robe. Dear God, she was naked. Her nipple was hard and erect and… Blood roared in his ears. He wanted her here, now. But she wasn’t ready. Groaning, he forced himself to slow down. Remembering what she liked, he lightly pinched her nipple.
She gasped. “Then again, who needs a bed?”
“I want to taste you, all over,” he growled. Grabbing her hand, he dragged her to the couch, unfastening the sash of her robe on the way.
“Not the sofa,” she said breathlessly. “It’s too short for you.” She tugged on his hand, pulling him onto the thick rug.
Sam’s mouth quirked. “You always were good at logistics.”
“I know.”
Smiling, she lay back. He plucked a throw pillow from the couch and propped it under her head. Quickly, he toed off his sneakers, then tugged off his T-shirt and threw it aside. When he turned to her she’d opened her robe, revealing her taut dancer’s body. Sam gazed in admiration at her pale skin and the small but perfect breasts. Her waist was slender and supple. He glanced at the thatch of light brown hair at the apex of her thighs and swallowed. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. Leaning down he teased her nipples with his thumbs.
Shivering, she arched her back. “Oh, Sam. That feels…so good.”
Giving her pleasure aroused him even more. He lay down beside her. “Bet you still like this, too.” Taking a nipple in his mouth, he swirled his tongue over the sensitive peak. Then suckled gently.
Amy moaned. “You bet right.”
Threading her hands through his hair, she urged him closer while he thoroughly enjoyed each breast. Awash in the pleasure of tasting her, he trailed open-mouth kisses down the soft skin of her stomach. Her legs parted. He kissed her tender inner thigh, felt her tense as he neared her most sensitive place.
She was wet and musky with her woman’s scent. Sam flicked his tongue. Groaning, she clamped her hands onto his ears. Still tonguing her, he inserted two fingers inside her slick, hot passage. Instantly she cried out and convulsed around him.
Her climax was such a turn-on, he nearly came with her. When she at last sighed and went slack, he nuzzled her stomach. Then, propped on his forearm, he kissed her lips.
“That was…amazing,” she said.
Her face and chest were flushed and her eyes dark and luminous with arousal. He smiled at her and she smiled back. “You’re pretty amazing, yourself.”
“Now, I want to touch you.” She pushed him onto his back. Still smiling, she stroked his chest and pulled gently on his nipples the way he liked. She remembers, he noted through a haze of desire.
Her hand trailed the fine line of hair down his belly, all the way to his belt. Sam tensed. Through slitted eyes, he watched her unfasten the buckle. She undid the button at the top of his fly. Then she reached for his strained zipper.
The instant she brushed him, he sucked in a tortured breath, circled her wrist and lifted her hand. “Don’t, or I’ll explode.”
“I was hoping you’d do that inside of me.”
Despite their earlier conversation and the fire raging in his blood, he had to ask. “A
re you sure about this?”
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.
Her certainty erased the last of his doubts. He struggled to his feet, digging into his hip pocket where he’d stashed a quantity of condoms. He extracted one, kicking off his jeans at the same time. His Jockeys and his socks followed. With his teeth, he tore open the foil packet. Sheathing himself, he joined Amy, who had spread the robe under herself like a blanket. Her expression full of longing, she reached for him.
He kissed her as he covered her with his body. Her legs parted and she tilted up her hips. Sam let out a growl and slowly entered her. She was hot, tight and wet. “Oh, God,” he moaned. “I don’t think I can hold back.”
Amy gripped his hips with her thighs, the way he’d dreamed of for so long. “I don’t want you to,” she whispered. “Let go, Sam.”
He plunged deep, eased out and plunged again. And again. Each time, the coil of tension tightened between them. Suddenly, Amy released a funny, whimpering sound. Clutching his waist, she convulsed around him. An instant later, the world tilted and Sam joined her.
When his breathing slowed and his sanity returned, she was nestled against his side. Sam felt fantastic. Sex with Amy was even better than he remembered. He kissed the top of her head. “Wow,” he said, propping himself on his forearm.
She wore a languid, satisfied expression. “You said it,” she murmured drowsily. “That was wonderful.”
“The best.”
“Can you reach the afghan on the arm of the sofa, and maybe flip off the lights?”
“On the way back from the bathroom. Where is it?”
“Down the hall, first door on your left,” she said, sounding drowsy.
Within moments, Sam was headed again for the living room, his mind whirling. They’d both gotten what they wanted: red-hot, satisfying sex. Briefly, he thought about heading home. Until he saw Amy. Wrapped in her robe on the rug, she smiled at him. Her lips were red and slightly swollen, and her face and neck still wore the rosy flush of desire. She’d never looked more beautiful. His heart swelling with emotion, Sam smiled back. Leaving now might seem rude, and besides, he wasn’t ready to go just yet. He’d stay a while longer. He grabbed the afghan, then found and flipped off the light switch. He returned to his place beside her, shook the blanket over them, and again drew her close. “Miss me?”