WHAT THE FUCK had I done? Oh, that’s right. I’d kissed Sam.
A freaking stranger.
Who was suicidal!
While standing on a bridge.
While he’d thought I was suicidal as well.
But, worse than all of that, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I’d replayed it in my mind at least a thousand times since I’d walked away from him.
I’d made poor choices with men in the past. I was far from the angel the media portrayed me as. But I had a sneaking suspicion that, if the news outlets got ahold of this little story, it wouldn’t have the romantic spin my stomach took every time I thought about the moment his lips had touched mine.
My steps were a little lighter that night while I was performing for thousands on stage. My thoughts weren’t filled with dread and guilt. Instead, they were focused on the top of that bridge¸ waiting for the moment I could return.
To Sam.
The show was entirely too long, but I snuck out of the backstage after party about thirty excruciating seconds after it’d started. Like a Freudian slip, I left my wig at home. I should have stopped to pick it up or at least checked to see if my stylist had something I could borrow, but after the concert that night, I just wanted some fresh air and a few moments alone.
And, by that, I meant a cloud of smoke and the sexy and intriguing man who accompanied it.
“You look better as a brunette,” Sam announced as he sauntered up next to me with a cigarette hanging from his lips.
A smile pulled at one side of my mouth.
He was wearing jeans and a black, long-sleeve button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, which drew my eyes down to the colored inked on his arms, and I wondered what they meant. But, seeing as my heart was racing and I couldn’t figure why I was suddenly nervous around this man, I decided to give up on the deeper meaning behind his tattoos and worry about covering my clammy palms instead.
“No jacket again?” I asked, pulling the beanie low over my curls.
“Any chance tomorrow night you’re going to lose the shades?” he replied, ignoring my question.
“Not likely.”
“Your legs are healing up well,” he stated, leaning on the railing beside me.
“They looked a lot worse than they were.”
“Right.” He rolled his eyes, which I noticed were the most amazing shade of gold. Not quite hazel, but definitely not brown.
Damn it! Stop ogling the hot, suicidal man!
I flipped my gaze back to the water. “Your hand looks better tonight.”
He paused just before he got the cigarette to his mouth. “You noticed? I was worried you were gonna stop checking me out after you drove off with another man last night,” he said roughly, causing me to swing my head to face him. “Is he the one who gave you the bruises?”
Ugh!
“What? No! Besides, I told you there is no him. I fell down the stairs.”
“Whatever.” He brushed my honest answer off, but thankfully, his attitude also seemed to disappear. “So, you feeling better tonight?”
“Actually, yes. Now, let me see your hand.”
He twisted his lips, but he lifted it for me to inspect his cut.
“What’d you do?”
“Splintered it on a guitar.”
Now that perked my attention. “You’re a musician?” I asked as the idea of Sam strumming beside me made my cheeks heat.
I tried to hide my face by refocusing on his palm, even though I had no idea what I was looking at. I just wasn’t ready to drop his hand yet.
“Not in the least. I tore it apart to make a bookshelf.”
My gaze snapped to his. “A bookshelf?”
“Yeah. Just cut off the front and then added shelves.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and started scrolling through pictures. It took him a minute to find the image he wanted, and it wasn’t lost on me that he did it one-handed.
What the fuck am I doing?
Again.
After dropping his hand, I tugged my beanie down as he thrust his phone in my face.
Sure enough, there was an acoustic guitar with the front cut off and three wooden shelves running horizontal inside the body.
“It’s for kids books, but I guess you could use it for spices or something too. They’d have to be short though” He sidled up beside me so we could look at the picture together. “Or maybe some little knickknacks? I don’t know.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “You made that?” While he was close, I stole a deep breath of the musky scent of Sam’s cologne. He shouldn’t have smelled that good—not while smoking a cigarette. But he absolutely did, so I took another not-so-conspicuous whiff.
“Yep,” he boasted proudly, flashing me a megawatt grin my hidden gaze lingered on a little too long.
Okay, that’s a bit of an understatement. I stared.
And his smile grew as he stared at me…staring at him.
And it continued.
For entirely too long.
But not nearly long enough.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he finally asked, snapping me out of my stupor.
“It’s just…” You’re sexy. “I mean…” And funny. “I, uh…” And happy. I suddenly got my thoughts together and shook off whatever hypnotic trance the memories of his mouth against mine had put me in. “You just don’t strike me as someone who would want to kill himself,” I announced.
His smile instantly disappeared and his eyes jumped to the ground as his black Converse nervously tapped against the railing. “Not everyone does.”
I should have been a decent human being and not watched such an obviously overwhelming moment for him, but the pain that had appeared on his face rendered me unable to look away. Frankly, in that moment, he more than looked the part of a man who wanted to end it all, and it scared the hell out of me.
I might have been up there too, but I knew what was going on in my head. I wasn’t going to jump off that bridge, but suddenly, I worried that Sam couldn’t honestly say the same.
My pulse spiked as he struggled to force down the demon my innocent observation had somehow unleashed. I wanted to help, but I had no idea what the hell to do. I was clueless as to the war he was waging behind those golden eyes. I barely knew the man breaking down in front of me, much less how to comfort him—or if he even wanted to be comforted.
The only thing I knew for sure was that I had to get him off that bridge.
“I’m… Hey, I’m sorry. Listen, I’m starving. Any chance you want to go grab a bite to eat?”
He swallowed hard then asked the ground, “You asking me out?” The question was teasing, but his voice was gravelly and packed with unshed emotion.
Mine wasn’t much better, breaking as I nervously replied, “I really just want to get off this bridge right now.”
His head popped up, and I offered him a tight smile he seemed to accept as my answer. As he focused on me, the color began to slide back into his face.
“Okay,” he agreed.
I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded entirely too many times. Dropping his cigarette to the ground, he took a step in my direction. He soothingly rubbed my arm, and I couldn’t pretend that it didn’t help calm my nerves, but that wasn’t the only reason I leaned into his touch.
A gentle smile played on his lips as he brushed the curls off my neck and whispered, “I know a little Puerto Rican restaurant that’s open until two. You good with that?”
“That works,” I mumbled.
His eyes studied my face as he asked, “You okay?”
“Are you?” I countered.
He didn’t bother with a response. Resting a hand on the small of my back, he guided me toward the foot of the bridge.
We didn’t chat on the way down. Only a few stolen glances and shy smiles were exchanged. I hated feeling awkward with Sam, but judging by the way he watched me out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t like it much, either.
“You want to ride with me?” he asked, spinning a keychain around his finger when we got to the parking area. All signs of his earlier distress had surprisingly vanished.
“Umm…” I stalled, not wanting to acknowledge my driver waiting for me in the car. However, I was fearful that Devon’s forehead vein would rupture if I disappeared with a random guy—even if Sam was only random to him. “I, uh… I’m not sure. Maybe I can just meet you there or something.”
He lifted a finger and tapped on the bridge of my glasses. “You gonna wear those all night?”
“I haven’t made it that far.” I smiled tightly.
“Well, how about this? Let’s start with you telling me your name. Then we’ll deal with the carpool and sunglasses. After you accosted me with your mouth last night, we’re practically dating. I should probably know your name so I can go ahead and buy our matching airbrushed license plates.”
I threw four fingers up. “Four-eva.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “The fact that you got that joke is so fucking sexy.”
My cheeks heated as I attempted to cover with more humor. “Besides, I owe you nothing. If I remember correctly, you seemed to enjoy that accosting. Wait. How did it go?” I stopped to tap on my chin then gave a breathy moan, mimicking his from the night before.
“Oh, come on. It was a manly moan and you know it,” he flirted, flashing me a bright grin that warmed places other than just my cheeks.
The absence of that feeling in my life might have been the only reason I let my guard fall away. I couldn’t restrain myself anymore. I scooted forward, and as I hoped, Sam slid his arms around my waist, tugging me against his chest.
“Is your boyfriend going to kill me for this?” He nodded to my car only a few yards away.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whispered as my breathing began to speed.
I shouldn’t tell him.
I was losing my mind.
It was one kiss that probably meant nothing to him.
Maybe that was true, but in the few days since I’d gotten to know Sam, he had begun to mean a whole lot of something to me.
My heart pounded in my chest as I weighed my options.
I can’t risk him telling the whole world about my dirty little bridge secret.
I should just walk away before the headline “Levee Williams is suicidal” paints the front page of nearly every tabloid imaginable.
But, for reasons that could only be explained by the safety I felt when I broke down in Sam’s arms, I announced, “My name’s Levee.”
He tipped his head to the side in surprise. “Really? Levy, like the tax or the pop princess?”
Shit.
“Levee, like the embankment used to prevent the overflow of a river.”
His head snapped back as he barked a laugh. “True story.”
I didn’t quite understand his reaction, but I steeled myself for worse.
Squeezing an arm between us, I pulled my sunglasses off and quietly finished, “And the pop princess.”
His eyes, not surprisingly, flashed wide, but his words were not at all what I’d expected.
Cupping my jaw, his callused thumb rubbed over my cheekbone. “No bruises,” he breathed, visible relief paining his face.
My mouth quirked in confusion. “What?”
Placing his other hand on my cheek, he framed my face. “Your shades—they weren’t to cover bruises.”
“Jesus, Sam. I told you no one was hurting me. I tripped down some stairs.”
“Yeah, but everyone uses that excuse,” he said through an infectious smile.
“I fell off the stage during rehearsals the other night. Some asshole leaked the video. It’s probably trending right about now if you need proof.”
He laughed. “That’s really fucking good news. I was worried about you.”
I was worried about him.
“Well, don’t. I’m fine.”
He angled his head, giving me a side-eye that told me he wasn’t buying it. He was probably right, but I rolled my eyes. Once again, he laughed, but this time, he brushed his lips against mine.
“So, the guy in the car?”
I pressed to my toes and grazed my lips against his again. “Bodyguard.”
Nipping at my mouth, he pulled me even tighter against his firm body. “You should fire him”—kiss—“for letting you go up a bridge every night alone.” Kiss.
I smiled against his lips. “I’d fire him if he followed me.”
“I follow you.” He smirked. Kiss.
“Every celebrity needs a stalker I guess. The good news is I happen to like mine.”
“That definitely makes my job that much easier.” He licked his lips in a way that sent tingles over my body. A soft moan escaped my mouth when his tongue retreated.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
He stared at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine for something. There was nothing to be found except lust.
“Kiss me,” I repeated.
He all-too-willingly obliged my plea and crushed his mouth to mine. It wasn’t timid or laced with concern like the kiss from the night before. It was deep and filled with indescribable relief.
He was kissing me.
“I’m sorry I taste like smoke,” he murmured against my mouth. “Damn it, I’m ruining the mango.”
I giggled, sliding my hands up his sculpted back. Sam might not have been thick, but taut muscles curved his lean body.
“It’s just gum,” I said. “I’ll give you some next time.”
“Definitely.” He stopped kissing me and leaned his forehead to mine. “Levee, it’s really fucking good to meet you.” He sighed and then punctuated it with another kiss. “Now, let me buy you some of the best rice and beans you will ever taste at midnight on a Wednesday.”
“Okay,” I replied, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace.
“So, how does this work?” He shoved a hand in his pocket and rocked to his toes. “Do you have an entourage or just the bodyguard you need to take with us?” He teasingly poked my ribs.
It was my turn to give him the side-eye. He was acting entirely too nonchalant about my little identity reveal.
“Did you know it was me all along?”
“What? No! I would have immediately tried to have sex with you if I’d known,” he answered frankly.
“Great. Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
“No, it was supposed to be a joke, princess.”
I leveled him with a glare. “Don’t.”
He laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, you were trying to get in my pants way before I was trying to get in yours.” Then he grinned something so beautiful that my eyes dropped to his mouth before I could even stop them.
“Can we just go eat?”
Quirking an eyebrow, he fought a smile. “Is that disappointment I sense? Levee, do you want me to try to sleep with you?”
“No,” I scoffed, looking away.
When my gaze drifted back to his face, he was sporting another huge grin, and just like it had earlier, it did some seriously warm things to me.
“Then I won’t.”
“Good,” I replied quickly.
“Good,” he repeated, but his eyes bounced to my mouth and his smile spread confidently.
“Oh God, can we just get some food now? This is getting awkward,” I huffed.
“More awkward than making out with your stalker?”
I swayed my head in consideration. “It’s getting there.”
His shoulders shook as he chuckled until something caught his attention over my shoulder. “I think you’re being summoned.” He pointed to the headlights flashing at us across the parking lot.
“Yeah, that’s Devon, my um…bodyguard.”
“Soon-to-be ex-bodyguard?”
“Uh, no. He’s been with me for years. I hated him at first, but now, he comes to my house for Christmas dinner. I’m not firing him for respecting my decisions.”
He huffed. “All right. All right. I get it. He’s your Kevin Costner.”
“Wow. You were so much more charming from behind my shades.”
I actually adored that he wasn’t acting stiff or freaking out on me. He was just…Sam.
“You’re full of it.” He winked.
I rolled my eyes. There was no use arguing with him. I really was full of it. Sam was even better now—and he was already intoxicating. Thankfully, that remained locked in my own head.
“Come on. Devon can drive.”
He rested his hand on my lower back. Only, this time, I didn’t even pretend not to arch into his touch as I returned his flirty wink.
Leaning forward, he brushed my hair off my shoulder and whispered, “Game on,” into my ear as he slid his hand down a fraction of an inch, moving it from respectable territory to just above my ass.
But, as far as I was concerned, not nearly low enough.