Chapter Nineteen
A Mission
My eyes flitted open and I saw the wall of Sam’s chest as well as the wall of Sam’s bedroom. It was grooved wood painted light gray.
His room also had white woodwork, dark wood floors with a big dark gray area rug under the huge bed. His bed had dark gray sheets and a dark red comforter cover. Black furniture, mission style, tall, wide dresser, nightstands, attractive lamps over the nightstands built into the wall that swung around so you could position them where you wanted them.
The only thing on the wall was a framed black and white photo of a headshot of Walter Payton wearing a white headband and looking over his Bears jersey covered, shoulder padded shoulder, his handsome face reflective.
It was an awesome picture.
Sam was asleep. I knew this from his breathing but also from the feel of him. You could sense his power always even if he was only in the vicinity. Now his power was shut down.
Memphis was also asleep. I knew this because she was pressed to the small of my back and immobile.
So I had time. Time to decide what to do about Sam.
But I didn’t need time. It came to me immediately.
And what came to me was that I had time.
Time to convince him he could trust me. Time to prove to him he could give me his secrets, open his heart, show me his soul and I’d take care of it just like he was taking care of mine. Time in his capable hands to put myself back together and give him the real me.
We were new, I reminded myself. I needed to give him time. I needed to give him me without expecting more than he was already giving me. And I needed to work toward gaining his trust.
No more tantrums. No more dramas. No more pushing.
It would come.
In the meantime, I needed to keep my promise and take him how he could give himself to me.
Because, seriously, what did I have to complain about?
On this thought I pressed into him, putting my lips to his chest, gliding them up to his shoulder, his neck then to his jaw.
His arm around my waist tightened and he pulled me mostly on his body.
He was awake.
Time to get to work.
I lifted my head and looked down into his beautiful eyes with their spiky, thick lashes, eyes that were now languid and thus hotter than their usual hot and I grinned.
“I like your picture of Sweetness.”
His arm got tighter and his lips turned up slightly at the ends. “You know Payton?”
“Who doesn’t know Payton?”
“Thought you weren’t into football, honey.”
“You don’t have to be into football to know Walter Payton was the best running back the game has ever seen.”
His lip turn got bigger. “You know what a running back is?”
“No, but my guess is they run and I definitely know Sweetness could run.”
His body shook with his chuckle as he rolled, taking me to my back, making Memphis scoot away and ending with him mostly on me.
My fingers started exploring his back as his hand ran up my neck, his fingers sliding into my hair from the bottom, his thumb extended to stroke my jaw as I kept talking.
“I like your bedroom too.”
“Good,” Sam murmured, dipping his head and running the side of his nose along the side of mine.
He’d never done that. I liked it. It was sweet.
“And your whole house,” I whispered.
His lips swept my lips then he whispered back, “Good.”
“And your view,” I kept going.
“Good,” he repeated on a mutter, his whole hand slid up into my hair, cupping then tilting my head, his slanted the other way and he kissed me.
I planted a foot in the bed, heaved up, Sam let me roll him so I was on top and I did this all while kissing him back.
Then I lifted my head and informed him, “But if you have a Ferrari in your garage, that’s a deal breaker.”
Sam burst out laughing. I watched for a couple of seconds, smiling down at him then I dropped my head and kissed him again. He laughed into my mouth for a second, I liked the feel of it, then he quit laughing, took over and it got heated.
When his mouth broke from mine, I was breathing harder and focusing on his lips gliding to my ear where he murmured, “Got a Ford F-150 supercrew cab. That work for you?”
My lips had landed on his neck, my mind vaguely processing I had no freaking clue what a supercrew cab was, though I did know what a Ford F-150 was, so I mumbled, “Mm-hmm.”
“Good,” he mumbled back.
My lips decided they wanted to move down, so they did. Then they decided they wanted to explore, so they did. Then they decided to further their exploration, so they did. Finally, I slid between Sam’s legs, he opened them and cocked his knees, giving me unfettered access. I took him in my hand and didn’t delay and sliding him in my mouth.
“Fuck,” Sam groaned, both his hands sifting in my hair on the sides, pulling it back and fisting in it.
My eyes tipped up to him to see his eyes on me. He always watched me working him. He liked how I worked him, he liked to watch and it must be said, so did I.
I slid him out, held him to my lips, rolled the tip with my tongue and he pushed off on his heels, taking himself (and me) up the bed until his shoulders were to the headboard so he could more easily watch.
Since he was in position, I gave him a show.
He was liking it in a big way which was about as much as I was liking it and I knew from experience he was close to ending the show and taking over. This was another way I considered Sam a gentleman. He always finished in me and he only finished after he made me do the same. He might allow me to give and in so doing take but he never took it all unless he’d given it all to me.
I loved that about him.
And just when his growls were going so deep I could feel them in my mouth through his cock, the feel corresponding wet gathering between my legs, his phone on his bedside table rang.
I slid him out of my mouth and looked at it.
“Ignore it,” he ordered, his voice super rough velvet, gliding over me, coating me in invincibility.
Yes, invincibility. I forgot. With Sam, I was invincible.
I could do this. I could be me. I could make him trust me, share with me and fall in love with me. With Sam, I could do anything, nothing would beat me.
My eyes slid to him as the phone rang again.
“Baby –” Sam started but I grinned.
He could pull out and make me wait for it.
I could do the same.
I quickly crawled up his body watching his face turn dark with frustration, my grin became a smile and I reached out and grabbed the phone from its cradle.
“Do not answer that, Kia,” he rumbled.
I straddled his gut, looked to the phone, found the on button, hit it and put it to my ear.
“Please, at this hour, do not be a telemarketer,” I greeted, my gaze tipping down to Sam who now had his fingers curled into my hips and an expression in his eyes that said I’d pay for this but in a way I could look forward to.
Several seconds had gone by before I realized no one had answered my flippant greeting.
My eyes went unfocused and I called, “Hello?”
Sam’s upper body knifed up, I slid down to straddling his lap and one of his arms curled around me.
Then a woman’s velvety but hesitant voice came at me through the phone.
“Uh… hello. Is Sam there? This is his mother.”
I froze solid.
Shit!
His mother!
I’d answered the phone flippantly and it was his mother!
I was in bed in the morning with Sam and I interrupted the blowjob I was giving Sam in order to answer the phone flippantly and it was his mother!
“Baby, who is it?”
I unfroze, gave Sam big eyes and waved my hand at him to shut up.
Then I forced myself to stammer, “Uh, yes. He’s here, uh…”
Sam pulled the phone out of my hand and put it to his ear.
Oh God! Now she was going to know he was in bed with me!
“Cooper,” he said into it, listened for a nanosecond then his eyes cut to me and he smiled huge. “Hey, Ma.”
I tensed to launch myself off him but his arm around me clamped tight.
Then Sam spoke again.
“Yeah, that was Kia, the one I told you about.”
He told her about me? When? Why? What did he say? And, again, when?
Sam kept talking.
“We got here yesterday.” Pause. “Right.” Pause then his arm spasmed around me, his eyes slid away, his amusement faded and his brows drew together. “No, don’t do that.”
Uh-oh.
He kept going.
“No, Ma, seriously, we just got here and now’s not the time for company.”
Uh-oh!
“Ma –” he began, was obviously cut off then, “Not a good idea.” Pause then, “Ma –” Another cut off, this one lasted longer and ended with a clipped, “Shit. Fine.”
No!
My hands lifted, fingers curling tight on his shoulders where they met his neck and his eyes came to me.
“Right, we’ll pick you up in Raleigh on Thursday,” he said.
No. No. No!
My fingers tightened on his shoulders, his eyes moved over my face then they started twinkling.
Twinkling!
Was he crazy?
I couldn’t meet his mother! It was way too soon for one. Sure, he’d met my whole family but someone was trying to kill me and Sam was my self-appointed protector. There was no way to avoid that. For another, I couldn’t sleep in the same bed with Sam if his mother was in the house. I was from Indiana. I was the daughter of Essie and Ford Rigsby. My mother and father could look the other way and pretend Sam and I didn’t have a sexual relationship outside of marriage if we were staying at my house and it wasn’t in their face. And they did so contentedly considering Sam was my self-appointed protector who’d wrangled up a crew of badasses to make sure I kept breathing. This bought you a lot of leeway, even with church going folk in the Bible belt. I could not sleep with Sam or sleep with Sam when his mother was in the house. And Sam wouldn’t allow it to be any other way. I knew it. Furthermore, his bedroom, walk-in closet and master bath took one whole side of the upstairs. The other side was another bathroom, a guest room and his office. His mother would be in the guest room and there was nowhere else for me to sleep except one of the couches downstairs.
Eek!
Sam again spoke, taking me out of my fevered thoughts, “All right, Ma, call me or text the details and we’ll meet you outside the terminal.” Pause. “Yeah.” Pause. “Lookin’ forward to it.” Pause. “No, that’ll be fine, considering I’ve been forced to eat Kia’s Mom’s cooking, I’m sure she’ll be good with eating yours.”
Forced? What would Mrs. Cooper think, Sam saying he was “forced” to eat Mom’s cooking?
Eek again!
Sam went on, grinning into the phone and muttering, “I’ll explain it later, Ma. Need to see to Memphis.” Pause. “Kia’s dog.” Another pause. “Yeah, she’s cute. You’ll love her.”
Oh God. I hoped so. It would suck if Sam’s Mom turned out to be the only human on the planet (outside Hap and, kind of, Teri) who hated Memphis.
It would suck more if Sam’s Mom turned out to be the only human I knew on the planet (outside Vanessa) who hated me.
Sam kept speaking. “Right. See you soon.” Pause. “Love you too, Ma. Later.”
He beeped off the phone, twisted, taking me with him, put it on the cradle then twisted back and his eyes locked on mine.
“What chance I got that you’ll use your mouth to get me hard again so I can fuck you?” he asked through a shit eating grin.
“Zero,” I answered while trying not to hyperventilate.
“Figured,” he muttered, still grinning.
“This isn’t good,” I told him and Sam’s other arm curved around me, both of them giving me a warm squeeze.
“She’ll love you, baby,” he whispered.
“Okay, well, maybe so but you won’t love me sleeping on the couch.”
The grin disappeared and his brows drew together. “Come again?”
“Hello? Sam? Again, I’m from Indiana.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not and neither is Ma.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do it. It’s impossible. I’ll break into hives or something.”
“Baby, you’re overreacting. Your parents know I’m fucking you.”
Ohmigod!
I forced his words out of my head even as I responded to them. “Yes, okay, but they only didn’t give me a lecture or hit us both with their heavy censure because they think it’s your reward for keeping me alive. In normal circumstances –”
He interrupted me with another arm squeeze and stated, “In normal circumstances, Kia, baby, you are twenty-eight and you can do whatever the fuck you wanna do. And in our current circumstances, my Ma knows me pretty well, she does not have hang ups about that shit but if she did, she knows better than to share them with me or make you uncomfortable. You are not sleepin’ on the couch, you’re sleepin’ with me.”
“Fine,” I returned because I already knew that was a battle I’d never win. “But we won’t be having sex.”
Sam’s face got a little scary.
“Kia –”
“Sam.”
He stared into my eyes.
Then he burst out laughing, fell to his back, taking me with him then he rolled so he was on top and he lifted his head and looked down at me, still, I might add, laughing.
When he got control of his hilarity, he muttered, “Fuck, you’re cute.”
“I wasn’t being cute.”
“Yeah, that’s why you’re cute.”
I glared at him.
His face got soft and it also got closer when he whispered, “You’re nervous.”
Uh… yeah!
I didn’t answer.
“She’ll love you, honey.”
I swallowed.
Sam dipped his head, touched his lips to mine then lifted it and, still whispering, said, “Luci loves you, Celeste loves you, Hap loves you and Ma will love you. Trust me, baby.”
I pressed my lips together.
Sam smiled at me.
My stomach, which was in knots, unknotted.
“Okay,” I said softly.
“Okay,” he repeated softly then he touched his mouth to mine again, lifted his head and told me, “Gonna take Memphis for a walk. You comin’ with?”
“Before coffee?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Then no,” I replied and he smiled again. “Make it short and we’ll take her out again later.”
“Works for me,” he muttered, dipped his head yet again and kissed my nose.
Then he rolled away.
I lay in bed and watched him pull on a pair of loose-fitting, athletic shorts, a tee with the sleeves cut off and a pair of old, ratty running shoes with no socks. Then I watched him move to the door, whistling. Then I watched him disappear through the door, Memphis bouncing behind him and disappearing too.
Then I rolled to my back and looked at the ceiling.
I was going to meet Sam’s Mom in two days.
Yikes.
Fearless, the word sounded in my head.
I took in a deep breath. Then I reminded myself I had a mission.
So I didn’t delay.
I threw off the covers, did my bathroom gig and headed downstairs to make coffee.
* * * * *
I was in the kitchen writing a grocery list when I heard the garage door opening and Sam’s Ford F-150 supercrew cab truck growling in.
It was late morning. I was showered, clothed and made up. I was also juiced up on caffeine which was sharing space in my stomach with oatmeal.
Sam had taken Memphis for her walk, came back, changed into workout clothes which meant he put on socks and a better pair of gym shoes. Then he took off to the gym.
Now he was back.
In his absence, I also had time to inspect Sam’s kitchen finding he had all the accoutrements to the point I was a little surprised. He even had a garlic press. What single man had a garlic press?
I found this a little disturbing because no single man had a garlic press unless that single man had a woman that at one time lived with him and forgot to take her garlic press with her when their relationship crashed and burned in a fiery ball of flame. Or she was around enough to cook for him repeatedly thus he outfitted his kitchen with items she’d deemed necessary.
I turned my mind from these thoughts to other thoughts that were only slightly less disturbing. These included the fact that I’d never cooked for Sam. I didn’t cook like my mother, this was true. And I thought my cooking was good. In fact, although Cooter was controlling about what I cooked, he never got pissed off about how it turned out.
But I’d noticed that, although Sam wasn’t freakish about his nutrition consumption inasmuch as he didn’t demand his vegetables steamed, his chicken grilled and allowed nothing unhealthy to pass his lips and he also would enjoy a beer or three, still, his selections were all relatively healthy and he leaned toward fish and skinless poultry and away from beef, fats and copious carbs.
I was the queen of beef, fats and copious carbs. Well, maybe not fats, so much, but definitely the other two. If a meal didn’t have some sort of bread, even if that meal was pasta, my thought was, what was the point?
Therefore, since I planned on making dinner for him that night, I was kind of at a loss.
Then I realized as I was staring down at the grocery list that didn’t have a lot on it that Sam’s truck was no longer growling, the garage door had already come down but he hadn’t come up the stairs from the garage.
My head turned in that direction just as I heard the door to the stairs open. Then I saw a still sweaty (thus luscious) Sam round the wall and come into the kitchen.
I smiled and greeted, “Hey, honey.”
My smile faltered when the man who I saw standing outside his car at my yard sale followed Sam into the kitchen.
“Hey, baby,” Sam replied on his approach.
The man did not approach. He stopped on the opposite side of the island. Memphis bounced in, yapping her greeting to Sam, got a look at the newcomer, dissed Sam and bounced yapping to him.
The man tipped just his eyes down to my dog and didn’t try to hide his revulsion.
Clearly, there were some badasses who didn’t think little dogs were cute.
Sam made it to me, his arm slid along my shoulders and he stated, “You said you wanted to meet the boys. Two of them came with. Aziz is off-duty. This is Deaver.”
“Hi, Deaver,” I greeted.
“Yo,” he grunted, his eyes moving from their disgusted study of a still bouncing and yapping Memphis to me.
“Um… sorry I didn’t ask to meet you earlier. I was, uh… kinda busy,” I told him.
He stared at me and made no response.
Weird.
“Do you want coffee?” I asked.
He shook his head but did not verbalize his refusal.
I tried again. “So, are you from Indiana?”
He stared at me a beat then nodded his head but said not a word.
Totally weird.
“Uh, sorry that you, uh… couldn’t join us in the lounge at the airport or that we uh… didn’t get you in first class.” I tipped my head back to look at Sam and asked, “Why didn’t we do that?”
Sam started to speak but Deaver beat him to it and I looked back to him when he did.
“Can’t assess a threat drinkin’ champagne in first class. Cooper had that covered, not a two man job. I covered coach.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
He went on, “And can’t scan the area sittin’ on my ass in the first class departure lounge.”
“Right,” I muttered.
That was when Deaver became talkative… ish.
He jerked his head toward the floor where Memphis was sitting on her doggie bottom, sweeping Sam’s tiled floor with her tail, waiting for Deaver to lavish affection on her and he declared, “Need a Rottie.”
Here we go again.
“That’s been noted,” I told him.
“Or a Shepherd,” he continued.
“That’s been mentioned too,” I replied.
“Or a Mastiff,” he went on.
That was a new one.
“Uh…” I mumbled.
“Or a Dogo Argentino.”
I blinked. “Sorry, a what?”
“The badass mofo of the canine world,” he explained.
“Oh,” I whispered thinking this guy was a little scarier than the average scary.
“Not that,” he jerked his head down at Memphis again.
Memphis yapped.
“She’s friendly,” I defended Memphis then added, “and cuddly.”
Deaver’s eyes sliced to Sam, clearly unimpressed with friendly, cuddly dogs and wanting to know why Sam didn’t eject my baby immediately.
“And anyway, I have badass mofos of the human variety looking out for me so I think I’m good,” I finished.
That was when Deaver decided to share his badass mofo wisdom. “You got a threat, you use every available means to neutralize it.”
“Uh, that makes sense, of course, but Memphis would probably yap pretty loudly to greet an intruder so at least we’d have a head’s up,” I told him.
He again looked at Sam and since I just met him I didn’t know if it was with respect that Sam had the patience to put up with me and Memphis or if it was with disdain that Sam was putting up with me and Memphis.
I decided I was done meeting my bodyguard so I said brightly, “Nice to meet you and if you should want to, say, use the bathroom or get a bottle of water, you obviously know where we are.”
He took the hint and I didn’t have to know him very well to see his relief at being dismissed from this particular duty, he jerked his chin up and replied, not brightly, “Right. Thanks. Hope you don’t get dead. You gettin’ dead means I fucked up and won’t get paid.”
Yikes!
“Well, I’m glad Sam had the foresight to put that clause in your contract,” I muttered and felt Sam’s body start shaking against mine.
“Standard,” Deaver grunted, jerked up his chin again, frowned down at Memphis again, turned on his boot and disappeared.
Sam’s silent laughter became an audible chuckle when I turned into him and looked up.
“I’m not sure I want to meet Aziz,” I shared and Sam’s chuckle became a roar of laughter as both his arms closed around me.
When he quit laughing but he was still grinning huge, he replied, “Aziz wasn’t raised by Argentine Dogos. He’s a little more sociable.”
“A little?” I asked and Sam’s huge grin turned into a blinding smile.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “A little. A guy checks the box marked ‘friendly’ on a job application for bodyguard, he’s not gonna get much work.”
This made sense.
“Right,” I muttered.
Sam kept smiling at me then he looked to the counter at my list and back at me. “You ready to hit the grocery store?”
“I will be when I ascertain if there’s anything in my cooking arsenal you won’t feel forced to eat.”
“I don’t have a cast iron skillet, baby, and shortening is not an acceptable addition to my pantry. That help?”
“Yes, but barely.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured.
Yes, we damn well would and I knew this because I was on a mission to make it so.
“Um… if Deaver comes with, he’s not going to attack any grocery store patrons for looking at us funny, seeing as you’re famous and all, and leave bite marks, is he?” I asked.
He pulled me closer and told me, “Good part of bein’ home, in Kingston, people are used to me. Unless it’s new folk or tourists, they leave me be.”
This was good.
“Excellent,” I replied.
Sam smiled again. Then he bent his head and touched his mouth to mine, let me go and muttered, “Shower then store.”
“Gotcha,” I muttered back.
He moved to the stairs. I turned to my list.
I was scratching out the word “shortening” when I heard, “Kia?”
I turned and looked over my shoulder to see Sam at the wall by the base of the stairs.
“Yeah, honey?”
His head cocked slightly to the side and his eyes moved over me. I held my breath because they’d gone that super intense and I suspected he was seeing something, feeling something, something I didn’t understand, while looking at me in his kitchen.
But he didn’t share.
Instead he said, “Won’t be long.”
“Okay,” I replied softly.
He tipped up his chin and disappeared.
I took in a breath and went back to my list.
* * * * *
It was night, the moon lit the ocean, the sound of waves crashing on the beach shifted lazily toward the deck – those, a nice dinner and a good day spent with Sam lulling me into a relaxation I hadn’t felt in years.
Years.
It felt good.
The grocery store mission was successful. I got what I wanted and Sam got what he wanted. I paid close attention to what Sam got which gave me ideas for dinner and, after we left the grocery, we hit the liquor store then we went home.
And Deaver, who I noted trailing us twice, didn’t attack anyone.
A plus.
I put chicken breasts in to marinade and Sam and I took Memphis for a long walk on the beach. Then Sam and I came back and he took me upstairs for a long, energetic session in his bed.
We emerged from Sam’s bed late afternoon and I met Aziz. Sam was right, he was friendlier if not less scary. He was Arabic, had less bulk than Deaver but not less muscle, though his was lean. He had more height and when he departed he did not share his wish I didn’t get dead. He gave me a look that promised I wouldn’t (thus him being not less scary).
The only thing that semi-marred our day was that twice Sam got calls where he looked at the display on his phone then took them elsewhere. This was not exactly unusual, he had a lot of calls at home where he did that and I suspected they were discussions with Ozzie or his crew of badasses. So I didn’t think anything of it, in Indiana or in North Carolina.
That was until, during the second call, I headed upstairs on bare feet to see to unpacking and I did this while he was in his office on the phone.
The door was open and I heard him say, “Like I said before, tell them I’m considering it but I haven’t made a decision.” He paused, I debated the merits of eavesdropping and before I made a decision, he went on, “They’re impatient for an answer then the answer is no. They can keep their shit then they can wait for me to fuckin’ consider it.”
It was then, considering his tone sounded frustrated and the conversation was clearly not about my safety, not to mention, I had some anxiety about what it was about, harking way back to the conversation I overheard Sam have with Luci, I moved swiftly to the bedroom. For the first five minutes of unpacking, I made way more noise than I needed to. Firstly, I did this to drown out hearing anything Sam was saying. Secondly, I did this because I wanted Sam to know my whereabouts.
When he came into his bedroom, he was no longer on the phone and he was also in his usual not in a sharing mood.
I knew this when he came up behind me as I was bent over my suitcase by the bed, he hooked me around the waist, leaned into me and said quietly in my ear, “Meant it yesterday, honey, make yourself at home. You need to move shit, move it. I’ll stow your bags when you’re done.”
Then he kissed my neck and moved away.
That was nice, very nice and I definitely liked it. But it still wasn’t Sam sharing.
And, it should be noted, Sam didn’t grab his bag and unpack his own stuff.
Whatever.
I did it for him.
A bit later, Sam grilled the chicken at his grill on the deck. I made a salad of raw spinach, arugula, cucumber, carrot, mandarin orange slices and pistachio nuts and prepared some wild rice. I ate mine with a buttered dinner roll we got from the bakery at the grocery store. Sam ate his with an extra breast, double the amount of rice and salad and zero roll.
Sam had also made certain that I had Amaretto and he did this during the detour to the liquor store on the way home from the grocery.
So now I had a snifter (yes, Sam even had snifters) of Amaretto and Sam on a deck at a house on the beach in North Carolina after a good day.
Life was good.
And Sam needed to know that.
So I whispered to the ocean, “Life is good.”
Sam made no verbal response. What he did was a whole lot better.
He trailed the tips of his fingers along the outside of my thigh.
I sighed.
Then I took a sip of Amaretto.
I dropped my hand to rest the base of the glass to the arm of my chair and told the ocean, still whispering, “It was hell, honey.”
Sam again made no response but this time his non-response included physically.
I kept whispering. “Everywhere I’ve been since he’s been gone, I thought was heaven.”
Sam responded to that, both verbally and physically. His fingers glided from the outside to the inside of my thigh and he pulled it toward his until it was resting there and he muttered, “Baby.”
I turned my head to look at him to see he was looking at me. “I was wrong.”
His fingers gave my inner thigh a squeeze.
“This is heaven,” I said softly.
I saw Sam smile.
Then I heard him murmur, “Glad you like my place, honey.”
I shook my head, turned my torso, leaned into my armrest, dropped both my legs into his, imprisoning his warm hand between them and I placed my hand on his chest.
“That’s not what I mean,” I whispered.
Sam twisted toward me, lifted his free hand and wrapped his fingers around the side of my neck.
“What’d you mean, Kia?”
“Anywhere is heaven as long as it’s an anywhere with you.”
The fingers on both Sam’s hands clenched deep, hard, fast and I knew it was reflexively because he didn’t check it and they caused a hint of pain.
Then he was up. Then my snifter of Amaretto was on the deck railing. Then my footrest was shoved out from under my heels. Then I was up, my hand was firm in Sam’s and we were in the house.
He stopped long enough to lock the screened porch door, the front door and quickly punch buttons on the alarm panel.
Then we were in his bed.
There Sam demonstrated to me how I was figuring out Sam demonstrated how much he felt about me.
And two hours later, climbing back into bed after cleaning up and tugging on panties and a nightie, I fell exhausted into Sam’s body and then fell directly asleep.
So directly, I didn’t feel him pull the covers over me.
I also didn’t feel him turn to his side or his arms get tight around me.
And, unfortunately, I didn’t hear his rough-like-velvet voice softly rumble, “Heaven is you, too, baby.” I didn’t feel him kiss my forehead. I didn’t feel him tangle his legs with mine. And, last, I didn’t feel him gather me super close and hold me that way even long after he, too, fell asleep.