A Love Like Yours

by Robin Huber

  “Drew, where are you going? We need to talk about this.”

  “I’m done talking.” He walks out of my office and closes the door behind him, leaving me to wallow in my despair and self-loathing for the next thirty minutes, afraid to show my face to anyone who might still be lingering around the studio.

  Someone knocks on the door, and I get up from my chair to open it.

  “Sebastian.” I look over his shoulder. “Where did Drew go? Is he still here?”

  “No, he left. Everyone’s gone. Are you okay?”

  “No.” I plop back down in my chair, and my dress puffs around me. I prop my elbow on my desk and put my face in my hand. “I guess the show was a failure, huh?”

  “Actually, you sold twelve paintings, over half of which were yours.”

  I sit up straight. “I did? Really?”

  “And I think there was enough buzz around Sam’s painting to get the attention of the modern art curator at the Met,” he says, grinning.

  “Funny.”

  “Not funny. I’m being serious.”

  “Sebastian.”

  “You had an offer for two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. That’s insane.”

  “That is insane. Do you think he was insane?”

  He laughs. “I think everyone was much more impressed with your work than your love life. Several of the guests said it was one of the best shows they’d been to.” He arches an eyebrow. “Maybe in part because of the entertainment at the end. But I think, mostly because of your talent.”

  I huff a disbelieving breath. “Entertainment for them, torment for me.” I groan. “That was awful.”

  “I know.”

  “I want to be so mad at both of them, but I did this. It’s not their fault.”

  Bas tilts his chin to the side. “Ehh, it’s a little their fault. I’d say more Drew’s than Sam’s. He did try to sell your painting.”

  I groan. “What am I going to do, Bas? Drew won’t talk to me, and Sam leaves for Quebec in the morning. I can’t let him go after what happened tonight.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “Not unless you’d like to see him get hurt again.”

  “Sebastian.”

  “Well, you remember what happened the last time he was distracted by the likes of you.”

  I bob my head and stand up. “What should I do?”

  “Go to him. Right now. Come on.” He takes my hand. “I’ll drive you to his apartment.”

  Chapter 20

  Lucy

  I direct Sebastian as we make the short drive through the city to Sam’s apartment. “Just pull up there,” I say, pointing to the curb in front of the entrance to his building. My hand hovers over the door handle, ready to open it when he stops.

  He parks in front of the large glass doors outside of the lobby. “Want me to wait?” he asks as I gather my dress and hurry from the car.

  I turn around and shake my head. “No.”

  “Good luck,” I hear him say as I dash inside.

  I turn around and give him a small wave through the glass door.

  “Miss Lucy.”

  I stop in front of the guard. “Hi.” I smooth my long black skirt. “I’m sorry”—I flash an apologetic smile—“I don’t think I ever got your name.”

  “Terrance.”

  “Hi, Terrance.” I smile at him. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Good to see you too,” he says warily, glancing down at my dress. “Sam was dressed up fancy tonight too.” I smile automatically, but he shakes his head and says, “He sure was hot when Mr. Miles brought him home, though.”

  “Oh, um.” I pull my eyebrows together. “Yes.”

  “Does he know you’re coming to see him?”

  I shake my head and he studies me for a moment, but then he nods toward the elevators and says, “Go on. I’ll let him know.”

  I flash a small smile and dash across the gleaming marble floor toward the bank of elevators. “Thank you, Terrance,” I call across the empty lobby, and my voice echoes off the walls.

  “Slow down, Miss Lucy,” he calls back.

  When the elevator doors open, I hurry inside and press the button for the penthouse. I’m whisked up to the twenty-fifth floor in record time. Thank you, I say to the universe, which clearly understands the importance of me seeing Sam right now. I hold my breath for the millisecond it takes for the doors to open again, anxiously waiting for him to appear on the other side of them, but all I see is his empty foyer.

  The door to his apartment is cracked open.

  I exhale my anticipation, in exchange for a lungful of apprehension, as I step out of the elevator. I press my hand to his door and push it open. “Sam?”

  I walk inside his dark apartment and follow the orange glow coming from his living room. I find him standing in front of the fireplace, still partially dressed in his tux, with his hands on the matte-black mantel, gripping a lowball glass. His sleeves are flipped up and his open collar is hanging loosely around his neck.

  “Hey…what are you doing?” I ask tentatively.

  He sips the clear liquor from his glass and sets it back down on the mantel.

  I put my hand on his back. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, staring at the fire.

  I wrap my hands around his thick arms and rub them over his broad shoulders and down his wide back, savoring the way he feels through his crisp white shirt. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”

  He sighs quietly.

  “Hey,” I say against his shoulder, “look at me.”

  He turns around and his eyes grip me. “It was all for nothing.” He clenches his jaw tight, and the tiny muscles flex where it hinges. “I ruined your show.” His skin glows in the light of the fire, and the flames cast a shadow on the cleft in his chin, making it hard to focus on what he’s saying. “I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing my heart.

  I reach for his face. “Sam, you didn’t ruin anything. Believe it or not, the night was a success.”

  He gives me a dubious look.

  “We sold twelve paintings.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” I smile and see the relief in his eyes, but it’s fleeting.

  “It’s already in the media, Lucy.”

  I assumed it would be. I drop my hands and sigh. “So what?”

  “So what?” He raises his eyebrows. “They know your name now. It’s not just me in the headlines. They’re speculating. About us. About Drew.” He shakes his head. “There were a lot of people there tonight.”

  I swallow down the sick feeling in my stomach. That’s the price. I look at his handsome face and stand a little taller. I’ll pay it ten times over if I have to. “And?”

  He exhales an incredulous breath. “Don’t you care?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Not anymore.” I reach for his face again. “Right now, the only thing I care about in the entire world is you.” I rub my thumb over his cheek where Drew hit him. “Are you okay?”

  His face softens and the corners of his mouth turn up into a small, amused smile, but then he reaches for my hand and says sincerely, “I am now.”

  I smile, glancing at the glass on the mantel behind him. “What are you doing drinking before a fight?”

  He shrugs. “It didn’t seem that important when I thought I wrecked the biggest night of your career.”

  “And now that you know you didn’t?”

  “Maybe a little more important again.”

  I push the glass down the mantel until it’s out of reach. “Are there other things you shouldn’t do before a fight?” I ask, trailing my fingers over the buttons on his shirt, desperate to feel his healing lips on mine.

  “Like what?” he asks, low and husky.

  I reach for his hands and lace my fingers with his. “I’m yours, Sam.” I gaze up at him, and the fire I’ve worked so hard to control finally breaks free and blazes through me, burning me from the inside out, sending embers soaring into the
space between us.

  His chest rises and falls with a quiet groan that fans the flames higher when I see the look in his stormy eyes. He slowly trails his hand up and down my back, sending goose bumps across my bare skin, and I savor the feeling of his firm stomach pushing against me each time he inhales. “I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he whispers, steeling the last bit of breath from my lungs. He brings his hands to my face, and I part my eager lips to welcome his, but he doesn’t kiss me. “You’re mine,” he says achingly, and I see the question in his eyes.

  I nod fervently and answer, “Yes.”

  He presses his mouth to mine and kisses me desperately, pushing and pulling my lips with his, the way that I love, the way that leaves them tingling and wanting more. He rubs his hands up and down my back, finding the zipper at the top of my skirt, and tugs it down, groaning into my mouth when his fingers brush over my black lace panties. He reaches inside my dress and squeezes my lace-clad bottom, pulling me against his hips.

  I moan into his mouth, wanting to absorb him through every pore in my body, but he releases me and reaches for the silk bow that’s tied behind my neck. He pulls the ends until they fall loose and chase my sparkly gold dress to the floor, which settles around my feet in a puff of black taffeta.

  I stand weak-kneed on my stilettos as Sam gazes down at my nearly naked body, and I’m silently begging him to touch me anywhere. He reaches for my ponytail and brings it over my shoulder, letting his hand slide down the length of it over my aching breast, which he resists with a quiet groan as his fingers follow the curve of my arm, leaving a blazing trail on my skin that I feel everywhere.

  He raises my hand above my head and says softly, “Turn around.”

  I carefully step out of the cloud of black taffeta at my feet and slowly spin around under his tattooed arm, feeling his fiery eyes ignite every place on my body they meet.

  He wraps me in his arms and pulls me close to him again. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, and I melt in his arms. He presses his lips to mine and kisses me again, and I know that the only reason I’m still standing is because he’s holding me up.

  He lifts me off my feet and I wrap my legs around his waist, crossing my red-soled heels behind him. I shove my hands into his hair, undoing the work of whoever styled it, and kiss him urgently as he carries me to his bedroom on the other side of the wall.

  “A double-sided fireplace,” I mumble into his mouth, surprised to see the orange flames glowing against the walls.

  “Uh-huh,” he mumbles, uninterested in the matter. He drops me onto the plush duvet that covers his giant bed and crawls over me, kissing me slowly, caressing my tongue with his, and soothing a place deep inside me that only he can. He kisses my jaw and neck, holding my hands by my shoulders as he slowly drags his lips to my breast, and I welcome the warm rush of desire that surges through me. His mouth covers my nipple, and he moans softly against it, sending vibrations to the deepest part of my body. He continues with hot, wet kisses all the way down to my hip, pressing his hand against my stomach when I arch my back. He wraps his other hand around my knee and trails kisses along the inside of my thigh.

  “Sam,” I whisper, desperate for him to extinguish the flames just inches from his mouth, but he moves farther down my legs and kneels between my feet.

  He carefully removes my shoes, and I press my bare feet to the bed, feeling the soft duvet under my toes as he kisses his way back up my legs. He hooks his fingers in my panties and pulls the black lace over my hips, pausing to press his lips to the burning place between my thighs, igniting the flames with his warm breath, before dragging the lace the rest of the way down my legs, leaving me naked and squirming beneath him.

  He presses his hands to my thighs and covers me with his mouth, giving me the sweet relief of his soft lips and warm tongue. I look down and see him gripping my thighs in his strong hands, still wearing the remnants of his tux, the muscles flexing in his tattooed forearm when he stretches it over my stomach, and the fire sears down my legs. He looks at me with his beautiful eyes, and the flames engulf my entire body.

  I grip the duvet in my fisted hands as waves of pleasure rock through me, bringing my back off the bed beneath his hand. He groans against me, shattering me into a million pieces, and the world falls away for a few blissful seconds.

  When I open my eyes, he’s kneeling at my feet, unbuttoning his shirt. He kicks his shoes off and they tumble onto the floor behind him. I sit up and smile, but his face is even more intense than before. His hungry eyes pierce me and reignite the smoldering fire inside. I kneel in front of him and push his shirt off his broad shoulders and down his arms, taking in the sight of his sculpted torso glowing in the light of the fire. I press my fingers to the tattoos that cover his chest and softly kiss his neck, dragging my lips up to his jaw. My hands roam freely across his stomach, feeling his muscles flex under my touch as my fingers follow the defined V that points below his pants. I unbutton them and pull his zipper down, feeling the heat radiate off him when I tug them down a little.

  He reaches for my face and kisses me, but my eager hands remain diligent. I reach inside his pants and rub his erection, and he groans softly against my cheek.

  “I want you,” I whisper, tugging his pants down past his hips.

  He kisses me hard and lays me back on the bed as he shrugs out of his pants and positions himself between my legs. He runs his hand along my thigh and bends my leg over his hip, and I rock my hips up, feeling him between my legs. “Sam,” I beg.

  He rubs himself against my entrance, and I bite my lip, anticipating the feeling of him inside me, a feeling that could never be replicated. He exhales a warm breath against my parted lips and pushes into me, sending electricity coursing to every nerve ending in my body. I cry out, but he covers my mouth with his, muffling the sound as he slowly pulls out of me and pushes back in, filling me up and satisfying the ache deep inside. Ohh. He eases out of me again, and I gasp at the sensation, at the heavy fullness of him when he glides back in. I press my hips up against his, needing to feel every familiar inch of him.

  He drops his head beside mine and I breathe in his warm scent as he gifts me with the heavy, full sensation again, before he pulls back, leaving me aching and wanting more. He sinks into me again, deeper this time, making me gasp and hold him tighter as I rediscover the puzzle piece that’s been missing for so long. He reaches for my hands and pulls them above my head, lacing our fingers together as he rocks into me, again and again, synchronizing his movements to our slow, deep kisses, like a familiar dance we perfected long ago.

  “I love you,” I whisper against his lips.

  He rolls over and sits up, pulling me into his lap without breaking our connection, and I sink down on him until our hips are flush. I wrap my arms around him and close my fists in his hair, and he loosens my ponytail until it falls in silky strands down my back. “I love you too”—he shoves his fingers into my hair and grumbles against my ear—“so fucking much.”

  I laugh softly, but when he lifts me again, we both fall silent at the sensation. He lifts me again and I slide back down, exhaling shallow breaths against his lips. Up and back down. Up and back down. Again and again, like waves on the ocean, bobbing up and down together, our tongues dancing to the slow rhythmic motion.

  I lean back in Sam’s arms and he kisses my breasts, softly tugging my nipples between his lips until the heat begins to take over again, crawling up my thighs and burning between my legs as my breasts swell under his tongue. He leans forward, until I’m practically lying on the bed, and I rock my hips against his, trying to extinguish the fire. “Sam,” I cry, begging him to put out the flames.

  He lays me on the bed, leaving me empty and aching as he crawls over me. But when he sinks into me again, I feel the relief through my whole body. He moves in and out of me faster, pushing deeper, sending electricity to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes. Oh, yes.

  He groans and pulls out of me again, leaving me gaspin
g for air, but before I can beg him for mercy, he rolls me onto my stomach and pulls my hips up off the bed a little. He lies on top of me, pressing me against the bed under his welcome weight, and I grip the duvet in my fists when I feel his erection sliding between my thighs. He pushes into me, groaning against my ear when I push back against his hips. He grips my hands and begins to move in and out of me, satisfying me in a whole new way.

  I close my eyes and exhale a silent breath through my parted lips, savoring the way he’s pressing every single part of my body against the bed each time that he moves. “Ahhh,” I cry as he pushes me over the edge without warning, sending me soaring through a beautiful familiar blackness that consumes my body and leaves me trembling beneath him.

  He rolls me over and kisses me hard, and plunges into me again, making me cry out each time he thrusts into me, grinding his hips against mine.

  “Sam,” I say when I can’t take it anymore, but his mouth covers mine and the fire consumes me once more, leaving me writhing beneath him as he comes, groaning against my lips.

  I lie beneath him, waiting for the feeling to come back to my fingers and toes, but without oxygen it’s not likely. “Sam”—I gasp for air, which I can’t find because he’s lying on top of me with his full weight—“you’re crushing me.”

  He rolls onto his back and gives me a small, satiated smile that makes my heart fall dreamily into a bed of flowers. He pulls me over to him, and I drape myself across his chest like an overcooked noodle. He wraps his heavy arm around me, and we lie quietly for a while until I begin to drift off.

  “I can’t go back,” he says softly, pulling me from the early stages of sleep, which my body is now demanding.

  “Hmm?” I hum against his chest.

  “I lived without you for a really long time, but I can’t go back to that now.”

  I open my drowsy eyes and look at him.

  “I can’t live without you, Lamb. Not anymore.” He gazes at me and I see our entire lives painted in his eyes.

  I put my hand on his worried face. “You don’t have to.”