Fools Rush In

by Lilliana Anderson

  “Oh, Sam,” I said, wanting to tell him that I felt the same way. It had taken me a while to accept that we were real, but he’d come to mean everything to me. I might not have been ready to say it out loud yet, but he had my heart. I needed him as much as he seemed to need me. I hoped he understood that.

  “There’s one more stop,” he said, starting the car and driving towards the main part of town. I thought for a moment that he was taking me to a café or restaurant for dessert, but then he turned onto the Esplanade, parked in front of a big white apartment building and shut off the engine. “This is where I lived.”

  I looked up at the structure, modern and expensive-looking, sitting directly across from the coastline. It seemed like a beautiful place to reside. “You gave up living here to stay at the house in your old room because of me?”

  He shrugged. “I actually stayed there a lot before you came along. It’s why we were all there on the day you rocked up. But this is the place I used whenever I needed my own space.”

  “This is one of the family holdings?”

  He nodded. “Fake tenants pay fake rent. I get a place to crash when I need it. I thought you might like to crash a while with me too.”

  I loved being a part of the big family dynamic they had going on at the main house, but time alone with this beautiful big man was too good an opportunity to pass up. “Only if we can walk around naked,” I told him.

  “You bet your sweet little arse there’s a no-clothes policy once we walk through that door.”

  I unclipped my seat belt. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Need

  “This view is beautiful,” I gushed, standing on the balcony, dessert wine in hand. The property faced the foreshore, providing a seamless view of green grass, tall trees and glittering seas as far as I looked from left to right.

  “You’re right, it is,” Sam said, except he wasn’t looking at the landscape. He was sitting back from the railing, reclining on a wicker outdoor lounge, staring at me.

  “Careful, Sam.” I smiled as I turned to face him. “You keep talking like that and I might start to think you’ve gone soft.”

  “Come over here and I’ll show you exactly how hard I am.”

  I leaned against the railing, my smile going from teasing to coy. “Maybe I want to stay right here.”

  “That’s a bold choice.” He stood and undid each button on his dress shirt, his jacket long discarded and lying over the back of the wicker couch.

  I finished the last of my wine and sat the glass on the closest surface. “Am I making you hot, Mr Cartwright?”

  With a wicked grin, he walked over to me, gripping my hips before pulling me against him. He was definitely hard. Nothing soft about this guy at all. “Burning,” he said, just before his mouth landed on mine.

  My body sank against his as light moans escaped my chest. It felt so good to be kissing him this way, out in the open without worrying about interruptions or confining what would come next to a locked bedroom. We had an entire apartment, and I hoped to take full advantage of it.

  When his hands moved, his fingers searching, my zipper glided downwards and the cool night air brushed against my skin.

  “Here?” I asked when he turned me around so I was again facing the sea. His warm chest against my cool back, his lips trailed along my neck as he pushed my dress forward.

  “Here,” he murmured, obviously not caring that any voyeur with a good pair of eyes could watch us in silhouette. I’d expected we’d at least take this inside, but as his hands and mouth roamed, knowing we were outside was quite the turn-on. Who knew I was a slight exhibitionist?

  I closed my eyes and leaned into him, curving my arse so it rubbed him where he needed it.

  “What is this?” he growled as he pushed my dress to the ground and found the black lace underneath.

  “More fancy wrapping,” I whispered, turning again so he could take in the entire spectacle.

  He took a step back, his eyes heated with desire as he drank me in, my skin bare save for a pair of black heels and two scraps of lace.

  “Fuck me.” The words were but a rumble in his chest.

  “If you keep unwrapping, I’m pretty sure that’s what you’ll want to do to me.”

  “Peaches, that’s what I always want to do to you.”

  I smiled and twisted my hips. “Just keep unwrapping. There’s more.”

  Quick as a flash, he was on his knees in front of me, his fingers gripping the lace and tearing.

  I gasped. “They were new.”

  “You said unwrap. I got excited.” He placed his palm against my freshly waxed lady parts. “You did this for me?”

  I nodded. “The lady at the salon said it’s what men like. Do you like it?”

  He slid his fingers back and forth, slipping between my folds. It was so sensitive and smooth. “Yes. I like it a lot.”

  Staying on his knees, he teased and played, bringing me to climax with his fingers. I kept my noises low, enjoying the danger of being seen without trying to call attention to ourselves.

  “Do you have any idea how much I love making you come?”

  Do you have any idea how much I’m in love with you?

  Thankful those words stayed in my mind, I touched the side of his face and smiled. “Why don’t you show me again?”

  His eyes glinting from the challenge, he did just that, taking me from behind against the railing, me gasping as the sea whooshed in my ears.

  His hunger for me didn’t stop there. He took me on the kitchen counter, licking food from my skin. Then he took me in the massive bathtub, me on top, his hands running soap over my breasts as I moved. Then he carried me to the bedroom, exhausted yet buzzing, and took me again. But that time it was different: slower, more sensual, more tender. My orgasm building in my chest, emotion pushing at my eyes, it seemed like the right time to say it, my heart so full and our bodies so close. But when he pressed his forehead to mine, his body shaking, breath heaving, he whispered the words he’d said before, a thousand times. “I can’t stop wanting you.”

  It was then that I wondered if he wished he could, if he saw his want of me as a weakness, if he kept fucking me because he was trying to chase that feeling away. Oh God, what if that was all this was? I was giving him my heart, but to him, was I merely an insatiable desire? He needed me. He wanted me. But that didn’t mean he loved me.

  A pang hit in the depths of heart, a cry somewhere deep in my soul. That’s what I wanted. That’s what I needed. I wanted him to love me, and not like he loved his family. I wanted him to love me the way a man loves a woman, all-powerful, all-consuming.

  I needed that.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Good China

  The house was abuzz in preparation when we arrived home, Jasmine giving orders while Toby and the twins carried them out. “I want everything perfect,” I heard yelled from the kitchen.

  “Look who decided to bloody show up,” Abbot chided, his arms laden with a beautiful set of china plates. He seemed a little put out that Sam and I had been spending more time outside the house than in it over the past month. I got the sense they liked having me around. But we would never get to where we needed to be as a couple with so many people around us. I still felt no closer to that elusive L-word.

  “Hey, Leesh. Hey, Sam.” Kris followed, carrying a box of crystal glassware.

  “What in the world is going on here? The royal family coming to dinner?” I asked, confused by all the hustle and bustle.

  “Close.” He scoffed. “Nate and Holland. Jasmine thinks that if the good china is out, Tobes and Nate’ll think twice before punching on.”

  “Here’s hoping,” Sam said, and I crossed my fingers before we followed Kris and Abbot into the kitchen where Jasmine was furiously rolling out a lump of pastry. “What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” Sam asked, leaning against the counter.

  Jasmine looked up, but only for a second. There was wild
panic in her eyes, and her tense shoulders only added to it. “Thank God you’re both here. There’s so much to do.”

  She directed me to the cartons of eggs and told me to separate the yolks from the whites. She was making lemon meringue pie, which was Nate’s favourite.

  When the pies were done and in the oven, she immediately jumped to the next task.

  “Can I ask why we’re going to so much trouble when Nate’s the one who beat the shit out of Toby?” I asked.

  Granted, Toby had kissed his wife, but it was far more complicated than that. I felt they both had things to make amends for, because I didn’t believe for a second that Nate had no clue he was cutting his brother’s grass.

  Jasmine didn’t even pause. “Because we always make an effort for family.” That was all she’d say on the matter, and I suppose it was all that was needed. Family was everything to her. She would lay down her life for them; cooking a special dinner to bring them all together was the least of it. And since I was family now too, the least I could do was help her, and the most I could do was not take anyone’s side. Brothers fought, but they never turned their back on each other. It was something I had to remember because it was so different from my own experience—just because they were pissed didn’t mean it had to be over. They gave each other time to calm down, and then they tried again. That’s what family was all about.

  Funny that it took a family of thieves to teach me what my deeply devout counterpart could not.

  Never turn your back on family.

  One thing I could say for Nate was that he was controlled. Besides the couple of times he’d lost his temper over some wrongdoing towards Holland, he was the picture of calm. Some might even call the man charming (not me though).

  That night, however, he was a mess. Every drink placed in front of him was sucked down at rapid speed. I swear the twins had a bet going over how many they could get him to sink since they were the ones keeping him supplied. He spoke in grunts and basically spent the entire meal glaring at Toby. I was seriously worried for the safety of the good china.

  Holland seemed to have a handle on him though; a simple touch from her and I could visibly see a moment of calm cross his features. He loved her. Truly, madly, deeply. It was written all over him during each connection.

  I watched him carefully, both out of concern and curiosity. Would Sam ever react that same way with me? I didn’t know. So far, it seemed it was his touch that calmed me down. I sighed.

  “He’ll be OK,” Sam whispered in my ear.

  I hoped he was right, although I wasn’t sure that I’d be OK. Beneath the surface, I was simmering. When Nate and Holland had arrived, Jasmine had asked me to take Holland out back so they could have a quick word with Nate. I’d been doing a lot of thinking about family and the importance of putting our own issues behind us for the greater good, so I’d leaned into her and said, “I’ve missed you.” Her response left a sour taste in my mouth.

  “Really? You wouldn’t have known since you never call or text, and when we’re all together, you’re Jasmine 2.0. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  My eyes flashed. It felt like Sam’s heated attack all over again. I was not Jasmine 2.0. “That’s not fair. I’m just trying to make the best of things. You see where fighting against all this gets you.” From where I was sitting, she hadn’t made a single concession in her attempts to become a part of the family. She simply created wave after wave and acted as though she was above the rest of us.

  She closed her eyes like she didn’t want to hear it. When she opened them again, she looked at me and said, “At least I’m still me.”

  It bit into my insecurities. Despite Sam’s assurances, I had worried over his words and tried my best not to pick up on anyone else’s mannerisms or alter my behaviour to more easily fit in. I was trying to be as authentic as possible, but it wasn’t easy when there were so many big personalities surrounding me and my default setting was to try and blend in. She’d been so focused on herself, cooped up with Nate that she had no idea of the struggles I faced, or the efforts I was making. I felt physically slapped by her snide remarks and had to get up and walk away so I didn’t cause another family incident because I’d literally slapped her. By the time I’d made it back to Sam, I was shaking.

  It didn’t really get much better from there, what with all the growling and glaring. Then there was the drinking, lord, that man could put it away when he wanted to. Besides the wedding, I hadn’t seen any of the Cartwright brothers intoxicated. Nate was my first. Nate could barely stand up by the end of the night.

  “Can someone help me get him into the car?” Holland asked when she’d tried and failed to get him out of his chair. The twins and Sam got up to help.

  “Why don’t you just stay here,” Jasmine suggested. “The boys can all help you get him into the car, but then there’s no one to help you at the other end when you get home. Just let him sleep it off here, and you can get going whenever you want to in the morning.”

  Holland considered it for a moment, then relented. “That’s probably for the best.”

  Sam helped her get him settled, and then he and I went upstairs to our room, deciding it was best that we stayed in the big house overnight too.

  He flopped on the bed with a groan. “That man has lost his shit.”

  I climbed on the bed next to him. “I guess love can make you crazy like that. Jealousy makes people even crazier.”

  “I don’t know if that kind of attraction is really love. I mean, it seems powerful and all, but I reckon it’s more of an obsession than love. Isn’t love supposed to make you happy? Whatever those two have going on is not happiness.”

  I mused over his words for a moment before my question fell from my lips. “Are you happy, Sam?”

  He popped an eye open and studied my expression. “Are you fishing to find out how I feel about you, peaches?”

  I shook my head, embarrassed for asking something so obviously prying. When this all started, I never expected him to fall in love with me—I was forced on him, after all—but as we grew closer, I knew it was something I couldn’t be happy without. I had been lacking it for so long that I now knew I needed love in my life. “You talk about love like it isn’t a real emotion, or you compare it to a weakness. You say you need me, but that isn’t quite the same, is it?”

  He narrowed his eyes a little. “What makes you so sure I don’t love you?”

  There were a few ways I could answer that question. I could tell him that I honestly didn’t know what true love looked like. I had a hope for what it was, but I had no experience witnessing it. I knew my brother loved his wife, knew my father had loved my mother, but their display of such love was very different. Trevor showed controlled respect while my father simply exhibited control. None of that was the kind of love I dreamed of or hoped for myself, the kind of love I wanted from Sam. All I really knew from Sam was that he didn’t exactly understand love either, so we were caught where we were, with him needing me and me needing more.

  “Because you avoid saying it. You talk around it. And when I heard you talking about me with Toby a while back, it sounded like you don’t really believe in love at all.”

  Heaving out a sigh, he adjusted on the bed and brought a hand up to the side of my face, his fingers playing lightly in my hair. “It’s not that I don’t believe, more that I don’t trust it. It’s a strong emotion that can fuck with your judgement. It’s messy. I don’t want messy. I want this.” He pulled me closer and tasted my lower lip. “I want what we have.” He wrapped me in his arms and rolled so he was on top of me. “I want you.”

  As he peeled away my clothing, tasting and teasing every inch of my body, my eyes burned, the unspoken ‘I’m not in love with you’ ringing loud in my ears.

  I was in love with him, I was certain that’s what this was for me. But for him, it wasn’t and perhaps never would be. I didn’t know if I’d be able to accept that. I wanted the mess.

  “Two waffle ir
ons? I can’t believe you own two,” I said, pulling them out of the cupboard and handing them to Jasmine the next morning.

  “When you raise five boys, you need to stock your cupboards like you run a small restaurant that caters to impatient customers.”

  I laughed as I stood back up and shut the cupboard.

  “There’re blueberries and strawberries,” Sam said, standing at the fridge. “Do we want both?”

  “Get the rock melon too. We have extra mouths this morning.” Jasmine was already pouring ingredients into a mixing bowl.

  I moved across the kitchen and switched on the radio before I plugged in the waffle irons so they could heat. The latest Justin Timberlake song filtered out through the speakers, and Sam took the opportunity to get a little handsy. Lord, how I loved having him near. He stood behind me and held my hips, swaying to the music before he shifted his grip so his fingers slipped underneath my shirt and splayed against the softness of my stomach. He did this move where we both arched backwards and rolled our hips around in a circle before he spun me around, catching me so I was pressed against him. Oh. My. God. It was the most fun I’d ever had moving to music. He had skills, and I was basically just a puddle on the floor. The man made me happy. I just wished that could be enough for me. Was I greedy to want more?

  “Enough dirty dancing, you two.” Jasmine laughed. “People have to eat in here.”

  I placed my hand against Sam’s chest, heat in my cheeks and desire beneath my skin. “You need to get out of here or we’re never getting fed.”

  I saw the way his eyes moved, basically saying he’d be happy eating me instead. The man just didn’t quit. But he did concede enough to take a seat on the other side of the counter while I chopped up all the fruit—although he stole most of the blueberries.

  I swatted at his hand. “If you take all the blueberries, there won’t be any for anyone else.”