Resisting Samantha (Hope Parish Novels Book 10)

by Zoe Dawson

  “Only you know how long it takes to heal, to grieve. I can’t know your pain, but I hurt for your loss.”

  She took my face in her hands, a sudden ache jamming up my throat at the tenderness in her eyes, the solace and gratitude. “You are the most compassionate, patient, sweetest man I have ever met. I’m trying to manage this.”

  “Darlin’, take all the time you need. I’ll be here for you. I want to be here for you.”

  “I miss him so much, Chase. So much.”

  The tightness in my throat made my jaw hurt. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m sure you do. Hold onto me.” I would accept this gift she was offering me. This beautiful, scarred woman, who had trusted me enough with her vulnerability to talk about her little boy. “I’m honored, touched, blown away that you could share any of it with me.”

  I looked down, trying to handle the sudden stinging in my eyes. God, but she could turn me inside out. Finally managing to get a shaky breath past the lump in my throat, I looked at her, saw how she was huddled in the warmth of her own arms, aware of the dark pain in her eyes. That pain stripped me to the quick, and I whispered gruffly, “Come here.”

  With a choked sound, she came into my arms, and I gathered her up in a tight embrace, awkwardly tucking her face in the curve of my neck. I felt her take a deep, tremulous breath, then she pressed her face tighter against me as she slid her arms around my neck. I could feel her trembling, as if she’d had a bad scare, and I pressed a kiss to her temple, then slid my fingers along her scalp, cradling her head in a firm grip. The heavy, silky weight of her hair, twisted around my fingers, the loose fall like satin over her shoulders and I closed my eyes and hugged hard, rocking her a bit, a swell of emotion making my chest tighten.

  Damn, but she filled up that hole in me, and I wanted to do that for her, but knew I couldn’t do it now, maybe not ever. I had to accept that I wouldn’t be enough to take away that pain.

  She took another tremulous breath, and I smoothed one hand across her back, molding her tightly against me. Easing in a tight breath of my own, I brushed a kiss to the top of her head. My voice gruff and uneven, I said, “It’s okay, sugar. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  I dragged her onto my lap, the shift intimately and fully settling her body against mine. A tremor coursed through her, and Samantha leaned heavily into me. Softly she said, “Move in with me.”

  I lifted my head, looking right in her eyes. “What did you say?” I asked, drawing an unsteady breath.

  “I want you to move in with me, Chase.”

  I covered her mouth in a kiss that was raw with hope, governed by a need to comfort and reassure. Samantha went still. Then, with a soft exhalation, she clutched at me and yielded to a deep, comforting kiss. I slid my hand along her jaw, my callused fingers snagging in the long strands of her hair as I adjusted the angle of her head. She moved against me, and I shuddered and tightened my hold, a fever of emotion sluicing through me, while I wished—ah, God, wished—I could draw her right inside me and keep her there, safe, forever.

  Dragging my mouth away, I trailed a string of kisses down her neck, holding her against my chest. I held her like that, my hand cupping the back of her neck, until my breathing evened out; then I turned and stretched out full length on the bed, trying to get a grip on the wild clamor rising up inside me. Then I sat up and yanked the T-shirt off her.

  I was shaking nearly as badly as she was when I dragged her beneath me. I felt as if my heart would explode, as if my lungs would seize up, if I didn’t get inside her, if I didn’t get as close to her as I could possibly get. She drew up her knees, urging me forward with clumsy hands, and I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes, burying myself deep inside her, tight and deep.

  I locked my arms around her, a shudder coursing through me, and I ground my teeth together, the sensory onslaught nearly ripping me apart. It wasn’t the sex; it was the physical connection, as if being inside her fused us into one united whole. Braced against the mind-shattering sensation, I remained rigid in her arms, waiting for the heated, electrifying rush to ease.

  When the storm passed, I released a shaky sigh, pushed up onto my elbows, my heart trapped in my chest as I covered her mouth in a slow, wet, softly searching kiss.

  Samantha sobbed into my mouth, clutching at me, and she lifted her hips, rolling her pelvis hard against me. I gripped the back of her head tight and locked my other arm around her buttocks, working my mouth hungrily against hers, lifting her higher, then rolling my hips. Samantha made a choked sound, and I drank it in, my mind blurring with a red haze when she countered my thrust, moving beneath me. Aware of how desperately she needed this kind of comfort, I dragged my mouth away and gritted my teeth, a fine sheen of sweat dampening my skin as I moved against her, trying to give her the maximum contact, trying to hang on until she unraveled like she was unraveling me.

  She made another wild sound, and her counterthrusts turned erratic. I tightened my hold. My senses on overdrive, I jammed my face against the crook of her neck and hammered into her, fighting to go the distance.

  Samantha arched with a soft, poignant cry, and my face, my body, my entire being contorted with an agony of pleasure as she convulsed around me. Then with a ragged groan, I went rigid in her arms and let go, emptying myself deep inside her. Holding on to her, her face wet against my neck, I felt as if she had shattered me and put me back together in one heartbeat. I pressed my mouth against her temple and closed my eyes, my pulse choppy and erratic, the feelings in my chest almost too much to handle. She made me feel unbreakable.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmured.

  All I could do was grin down at her like a fool.

  Chapter 18

  CHASE

  I finished shaving and bent over to splash water on my face. When I came back up, Samantha was right behind me, looking sleep-tousled, her hair wild, her eyes drowsy. She was back to her old self after the grief of last night. I was sore everywhere when I got up, but at the same time as happy as hell. The fragile look in her face bothered the bejesus out of me. I’d seen her withdraw, and I’d seen her wounded and as wary as a cornered gator, but I’d never seen her look so…breakable, before. But managing that kind of grief had to take a toll. She’d really opened up, letting me see everything last night.

  And yet, she still asked me to move in with her, and I was ready to do it.

  “Hey, there sleepyhead.”

  “Good morning, handsome.” She pinched my bottom through the black cotton boxer briefs and turned on the tap on her side of the vanity. Pulling all that hair off her face, she bent down and washed vigorously. The smell of her face wash, a flowery scent, did things to me. It was the familiarity of it, and I loved that it was something I could expect to be smelling every day, a small detail that added to my overall giddy mood.

  After she dried her face, she looked at me in the mirror and said, “Why are you grinning like that?”

  “You know why. Don’t tell me it was only a dream, and you didn’t really ask me to move in last night.”

  Her eyes widened and she rubbed her temple, heading back into the bedroom. “Hmmm. Were we drinking last night?”

  “You’re torturing me after I made you my awesome five-layer leftover master dish?” I complained.

  “Ooh, that I remember. It was scrumptious.” She licked her lips in an exaggerated way, and it took all my control not to laugh and lunge for her.

  I leaned against the doorjamb watching her while she made the bed, fluffing up the pillows.

  “One beer hardly got you drunk, unless you’re a lightweight,” I scoffed, needling her. I walked over and smacked her on the butt. She turned around and lifted her chin, mischief in her eyes. I poked her in the chest. “You a lightweight, Yank? Cain’t hold yer liquor?” I said, giving my accent a sizeable dose of hick. I leaned over the bed. “Whut? No chocolate on the pillow? I’m gonna have to wraht yew up.”

  Before I could take a second breath, she threw me face-first on the bed, knocking
the air out of me in a rush. She did this ankle-hooking thing, using my body weight against me, and got me in a classic cop hold, my arm behind me and twisted up, her hand firm on my wrist, both knees gently riding my back. Her weight couldn’t hold me, but the hold was just this side of painful. That was a lock. “That was pretty impressive. Is this the way you take down suspects, officer?”

  “Yes, especially the cute, mouthy ones.” Her voice breathless. She shifted her weight, her mouth hot and wet on my neck, the tip of her tongue tracing up to my ear. I groaned softly, my dick hardening. “Gotta make sure they’re armed and dangerous…wait...” She let out a soft, heated breath. “I mean not…not armed and dangerous.” Then her mouth captured my lobe and she bit it. It was electric and I jerked, my gasp turning to a groan when she sucked me. “Are you packing, punk?”

  I raised a brow, grinning, loving her smart mouth. “Isn’t it your job to find out?”

  She let me go and flipped me onto my back, then grabbed my wrists and manacled them with her hands, dragging them over my head. “I’m a professional, and my opinion is that you’ve got a deadly weapon or two. Care to share where you might be hiding them, pal?”

  “Being a professional and all, I’m pretty sure you should frisk me. You know. Do your job, copper.”

  She smiled against my mouth, “You punks always have to make it so…” She trailed her hand down to my groin and slipped beneath the waistband, curling her hand around me. She moved her hand over me in a tight hold, pumping. My head fell back, and she kissed my jaw. “…hard,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling. “I know exactly how to subdue a lethal sort such as yourself.” She lowered her head and moistened my bottom lip, then she took my mouth, kissing me into submission. Her thumb moving over the tip of my “weapon,” making me gasp against her mouth.

  “That is an effective technique,” I managed around compressed lungs, hard-on, and tight balls. I brushed a light kiss on her mouth, grinning again. “You going to need the handcuffs, ma’am? Should I assume the position?” I murmured against her mouth, taking another slow, savoring taste. “Make sure that frisk is thorough and slow, so you don’t miss a thing.”

  “Oh, I’m thorough, mister and I won’t miss a thing…in fact…” She stroked me again, my hips lifting. “Is that a concealed weapon you got here? You know that’s against the law. I’m going to have to confiscate it.”

  “No, ma’am. I’m just happy to see you,” I gasped at the sheer pleasure while she played with me. “I swear.”

  “I’m going to have to investigate this further to see if you’re telling the truth. Cute and mouthy punks such as yourself tend to lie.”

  She pressed a heated kiss to my mouth, then trailed over my chin, down my neck, sucking softly, to my collar bone, where she traced the ridge to the center and kissed the indentation. Moving down my chest, she bit the edge of my pectoral muscle, and licked her warm, wet tongue across my nipple, then sucked me hard, playing with the tip with her tongue.

  She bit and licked and kissed her way to my waistband, paying attention to each individual ridge of my abdomen.

  I lifted myself on my elbows, as she hooked her hands in the waistband of my briefs and pulled them down. My dick jumped to attention, throbbing, and she looked up at me. “With this deadly a weapon, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in.”

  “Fuck,” I said when she took me in her mouth, riveted by the sight of what she was doing to me, of her wrapped around me. She ran her tongue over the top of me again, then closed her mouth and sucked, and my hips came off the bed.

  Reaching down I tunneled my fingers into her hair, loving her, loving what she was doing to me. I moved with her, gave myself up to the oh-so-good way she worked me over with her mouth and her hands. I opened my legs wider for her, and she reached down and cupped my balls. I groaned, my head falling back, my mind floating, the pulsing sensations rippling and gripping.

  Much more of this and it was going to be all over in a hurry.

  I tried to reach down and pull her up, but she was on a mission, and she shoved my chest until I fell back. I pushed up again, and she met my eyes, watching the effect of her going down on me play across my face, my mouth open, gasping when she did something just below the head. I groaned deep, a sharp cry as pleasure clawed hard.

  Still she watched me, my thoughts nothing but wisps in my head, everything focused on Sam. Every impulse, every neuron, every breath riveted on only one thing—the next touch of her tongue, the next stroke of her hand, the next pull of her mouth, and the next, and the next until she took me exactly where she’d wanted me to go, straight over the edge, a free fall all the way.

  My body was tight, my dick rock hard—and my release one endless stream of bucking, buzzing gratification coursing through me. “Sammy,” I choked out as the pulsations peaked then eased.

  Still gasping, I pulled free from her mouth and dragged her up into my arms. Holding her close, I slid my hand around the back of her neck and buried my face in her hair.

  I lay there for a few moments, just breathing in the lovely way she smelled, and trying to get my head back on straight. A smile curved my lips. It was hopeless. She was amazing, and I wasn’t going to get my head on straight anytime soon.

  “What were we talking about?”

  “I don’t know, I lost my head.” I said deadpan, and she curled against me and laughed hard. “You are a very bad, bad, oh-so-good, but very bad man.”

  “Yeah, about that dream I might have had…”

  “Oh, that, I remember.”

  She was so damn cute and brave. So goddamned brave. Now I knew what she endured, my admiration and love increased tenfold. She was a true street fighter when it came to grief.

  “It was a dream...” she said, her eyes twinkling, even as my heart skipped a beat, “…come true.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as possible. I’ll have to tell Evie and your sister and mom, but my furniture situation is set.”

  I heard a smug tone in her voice and pushed up so I could look into her face. “Hey, is this about me or the furniture?”

  She thought for a moment. “The furniture,” she said and I tickled her until she pleaded with me to stop.

  “Shower?”

  “Yes, you’ve distracted me enough, punk.” She kissed me and we rolled out of bed. “Beth is going to wonder why I’m always late.”

  I turned on the shower. “It takes two to tango, ma’am,” I said, straightening. She was staring at me and my heart turned over, the sunlight from outside washing across her face and revealing the tenderness in her expression. A glimmer of sorrow in her eyes.

  “You called me, Sammy. In your most unguarded moment,” she whispered unevenly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  She shook her head and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around me. “No…no, Chase. It’s fine. It’s better than fine.”

  My pulse was slow and heavy when she wrapped her arms around my neck, and, on a slow, deep kiss, she let go of Jeff.

  Twenty minutes later I dropped her off. “I’ll pick you up after closing.”

  She nodded, looking a bit raw emotionally. We kissed and she got out.

  The day went quickly, and just as I was going to leave the shop, the phone rang. “Sutton Bait and Tackle, Chase speaking.”

  “It’s Mike. I’ve got us a suspect here. He was caught red-handed trying to sell one of your bows. The prints match to the ones we took off the cash drawer. I need you to come down to the station.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right there.” I called Sam, but she didn’t pick up, I left a message. “Babe, I have to go down to the sheriff’s office. I’m going to be a bit late getting you. Wait for me.”

  I walked in and Mike had the paperwork for me to sign. There was a skinny blond guy in one of the cells. “That him?”

  “Yup.”

  I walked over to the cell and leaned against the bars. “Why did you have to trash my place like that? You have somethi
ng against me?”

  He looked and me and shook his head. “No, I don’t even know you. I was just passing through and the door was wide open.”

  I straightened. “What?”

  “It was like that, mister, when I got there, I swear. I just took the cash and the bows. That’s all that was salvageable.”

  Mike’s phone rang and he answered, stiffening. “When? How long? Sonofabitch.” He hung up, alarm in his eyes. “Chase. That killer Miz Wharton put away, the one she asked me to check into, he’s out. It seems there was a glitch in the system, and it showed he was still in Rikers, but he’d been released, the charges dropped, some mishandling of evidence. He walked free and clear. They don’t know where he is.”

  “Kyle Mayhew is out of prison! How long?”

  “Three weeks.”

  It had been him gaslighting her. Him she’d seen in Suttontowne on that stormy day. He had been watching her, watching us. He’d slashed my tires, vandalized my traps, and trashed my shop. He was the threat and AnnClaire knew he was intent on harming Sam. I had to warn her. I had to get to her. We rushed to Mike’s car and he flipped on the siren.

  “Give me your phone.” I tapped her number listed in the sheriff’s call log, my heart beating frantically.

  Samantha, pick up.

  Chapter 19

  SAMANTHA

  When I heard the car drive up, I unlocked the back door and went into the kitchen to make sure everything was turned off. I couldn’t get Chase off my mind all day. Even with getting over Jeff—and that had been a hard, painful journey—I wanted what Chase and I were building…had built. The way he’d been so open and understanding about Scottie last night made me teary all over again, but I blinked them away.

  I was falling for him hard. It was as pure and simple, and as terrifying and complex as that.