Chapter Twenty-Four
Burned in My Brain
It was night, dark and Memphis and I were hanging on the deck. Memphis on my lap, breathing easy. Me in a chair sipping an Amaretto.
Luci’s realization changed our plans for the day. Sam took her back to her house and stayed with her. Skip went wherever Skip had to go. Hap went back to the base. Celeste and I drove Maris to the airport. Then we spent the rest of the day together.
When it got late and there was still no Sam, Celeste got in Luci’s Corvette and went to her house. Fifteen minutes later, Celeste texted me with, “All is well. They’re talking on the deck. Sam says he’ll be home soon.”
So I got my dog and my Amaretto with a cube of ice, hit Sam’s deck, settled in and waited for my man to come home.
Sitting with only Memphis for company, it didn’t take long for me to come to some realizations myself. The first being, sitting alone on the deck in the night, the house empty behind me, watching the moonlight on the waves, that since I met Sam, I had very little of this. Solitude. Time to think. Time to be with me.
And once I realized that I realized that was by Sam’s design. Except for him offering to give me space the next night after the first time we had sex, that offer was never repeated. In fact, neither Maris nor Sam suggested they have alone time before she went home. That was my idea.
Dad had said it but I didn’t process it then and I didn’t understand it now.
Sam and I were inseparable.
I did not question falling in love with him because he was Sam.
And I did not question my decision earlier that day to hook my star to his, to restart my life after Cooter, however that came about, with Sam.
And I no longer questioned that Sam would want to hook his star to mine. We got along great (when we weren’t fighting). He was into me. He thought I was beautiful. He liked the way I dressed. We had great sex. I made him laugh. He made me laugh. His friends and Mom liked me. My friends and family liked him.
What I questioned was Sam announcing to everyone we were moving in together nearly upon waking the day after he made that mistaken assumption. It was almost if, in doing so, he was building a barricade I would find it difficult to break through if I decided to go back.
He wasn’t trapping me, I had free will, my life was my own, but he was throwing up obstacles, making it difficult, tying me to him.
And I didn’t get this.
Sam Cooper and Sampson Cooper didn’t need to do that with any woman. There was a desperation to it that alarmed me.
A desperation that might come from a man who lost a brother who was a brother bigger than blood then for over a year dealing with that man’s wife and seeing firsthand the devastating loss to a loved one left behind.
No.
That wasn’t all.
Seeing it at the same time feeling it for Luci wasn’t the only one who lost Gordo.
And thus I knew Sam loved me as in loved me for learning about loss by watching it and feeling it, he wasn’t taking any chances, he wasn’t wasting any time.
This worried me. I didn’t want him to feel this loss. I didn’t want him to feel this desperation. I didn’t want what we had to grow under that cloud. No one could tell the future and we might only have another day together or we might have fifty years. But even if we had only one day, I didn’t want Sam living it under a cloud.
But I had no earthly idea how to talk to him because this kind of thing, Sam did not share with me.
On this thought, Memphis’s head came up, it jerked to the house and I heard Sam’s truck growling into the drive then the gate swinging closed. Then I listened to the garage door going up. Memphis jumped down and her claws clicked on the deck as she ran to the porch door to wait for Sam to arrive.
Even with my heavy thoughts, this made me smile. My baby liked my man. Not a surprise. But my man liked my baby.
And that made life all the more sweet.
I heard a yap, twisted in my chair and watched Sam stride through the house I’d left lit softly with a few lamps. He hit the deck, scooped up a bouncing, happy Memphis on the go and came to me.
I tipped my head back, smiling gently at him and waited for his approach and kiss.
He didn’t give it to me. On the outside, he rounded the chair beside mine and folded into it, Memphis on his lap. She bounced, trying to lick his face and give him her brand of welcome home.
“Settle, Memphis,” Sam ordered firmly but not sharply.
Memphis, somewhat surprisingly, did as she was told.
She was immediately rewarded when Sam’s fingers massaged her fur at her neck and his eyes went to the sea.
I was a little troubled he had not greeted me but I let it go and asked softly, “You okay?”
“Hope to Christ this is a day I will not live again,” Sam answered immediately.
That didn’t sound good.
“How’s Luci?” I ventured.
“Lots of crying, hangin’ around while she talked to her folks, more crying and lots of listening to her talk about Gordo.”
“She’s processing it,” I deduced.
“She’s processin’ the shit outta it. She crammed a year of mourning into a day. She’s all over fuckin’ processing it.”
I pressed my lips together trying to read his mood and tone. It wasn’t frustrated but it was. He sounded tired. He sounded impatient and over it. The first and the last surprised me.
“Is she coming to any conclusions?” I asked.
“Sellin’ her house, movin’ back to Italy. It’s all about Gordo here. She’s got friends but her life here is her life with him and that’s gone. She’ll come back and visit but family and home is not here. Family and home is Italy. She’s puttin’ the house on the market tomorrow.”
Whoa.
“Shouldn’t she wait? Think about it awhile? This is a fragile juncture and moving on sudden decisions might not be good,” I suggested and at that, Sam’s head turned to me.
“Sudden?”
“Well, yes. Sudden as in, coming to terms with Gordo dying one day and putting their house on the market the next.”
“Nothing sudden about this shit, Kia. He’s been dead awhile. It’s about fuckin’ time she moved on. She’s movin’ on.”
I stared at him and said nothing. This was because I didn’t have to try to read his mood and tone. He was frustrated, tired, impatient and over it.
I was shocked.
That was not Sam.
“Wiped,” he muttered, got up and moved Memphis to my lap. Then, without touching me, no kiss, not even meeting my eyes, he went on, “Hittin’ it. Got shit to do early so may be gone when you get up. Be back late afternoon, early evening. You don’t feel like cookin’, text me and on my way home, I’ll pick up fried clam platters from Skippy’s. Not as good as crab sandwiches, still can’t be beat.”
Then, without another word, a goodnight kiss or even a gesture, he walked into the house as I watched in stunned silence.
Once he disappeared up the stairs, I twisted back to forward in my seat and looked down at Memphis who was still looking beyond me to the door. She felt my eyes, her eyes came to me and she yapped.
“Yes, baby, that was weird.”
She yapped again and I nodded.
“I didn’t like it either.”
She whined a little then settled in my lap.
I pressed my lips together, my mind harking back from now to the first night Sam and I slept together.
He’d never gone to bed without me.
And I’d never gone to bed without him closely following me.
Then I unpressed my lips when I lifted my Amaretto to take a drink.
I swallowed and whispered, “Shit,” to the sea.
Memphis concurred with a quiet, mini-yap.
Yep. Shit.
* * * * *
I woke up with Sam’s mouth at my neck and his hand sliding into my panties.
“Sam,” I whispered and his mouth came to mine.
“No talking,” he rumbled then he made this so by kissing me, his tongue driving into my mouth hard at the same time his finger slid inside me.
I wasn’t awake, I wasn’t ready and I whimpered with surprise mixed with the usual pleasure.
Sam read it, his finger slid out and hit my clit, pressing, rolling, my whimper this time was again surprised but now there was far more pleasure. My hips rose up into his hand as his tongue kept driving into my mouth.
Then his lips released mine and his torso twisted. My panties were torn down my legs and Sam rolled, his arm hooking me, taking me with him.
I didn’t know what was happening, I still wasn’t awake but I was turned on.
Then I was turned on more when Sam laid back, pulling me up, yanking me over him and maneuvering me to straddling his head.
Then his hands at my hips tugged me down and he was eating me.
My head fell back and my fingers searched for the headboard to hold on.
He was hungry, ravenous. God, he’d never done it like that before, not only in this position but also him being so damn hungry. His hands clenched at my hips, wrenching me down, grinding me into his mouth and tongue.
Oh God. God!
Before I knew it was coming, it came. My head jerking back again, I cried out as it seared through me.
But Sam kept pulling me down, crushing me to his mouth, taking.
Beautiful.
Sublime.
I moaned, whimpered, panted, held the headboard in a death grip feeling it, all of it, loving it and then orgasm number two soared through me.
Sam pushed me off before I was done and I tried to catch my breath, catch a thought but found myself on my knees with Sam on his knees behind me, his arms around me. His hand went back between my legs, torture, God, such beautiful torture. I was so sensitive my hips jerked and his other hand plunged up my nightie, his fingers curling around my breast, his thumb rolling my nipple.
“Sam, honey, too much,” I protested but my hips made my words a lie, rolling, pressing, seeking. I wanted it, wanted him, wanted more.
Sam’s teeth nipped the skin behind my ear and he growled, “No talking.”
“Sam –”
His hand between my legs slid away, his arm clamped around my waist, his other hand curled tight at my breast, I felt him move, adjust then drive up inside me, straight to the root, filling me.
My head again flew back, colliding with his shoulder.
“No… fucking… talking,” he commanded, deep and low in my ear.
Then his arms left me, one hand went to the middle of my back, pushing me down so I was chest to mattress. Both his hands went to my hips, fingers digging deep, he pulled me sharply back to meet his thrusts, pushing me forward, pulling back, slamming into me, slamming me into him.
Oh God. It was awesome. It was hot. And it was going to happen again.
Before it could, he pulled out. I moaned my discontent but he didn’t make me wait. He jerked me up, shifted me to facing him and turned us, moving up the bed. My back hit headboard, his hands wrapped my legs around his hips, my arms slid around his shoulders and his mouth slammed down on mine as his cock plunged into me.
Again and again and then he drove deep, grinding hard and groaned in my mouth as my limbs got tight, my third orgasm swept through me and I moaned into his.
I recovered slowly listening to Sam doing the same, feeling his breaths steadying against my lips, keeping him held close to me, held tight.
Then, even though I didn’t say a word, he ordered, “Do not speak.”
My heart started beating faster again.
He didn’t glide; he didn’t take me gently after he took me hard. He stayed buried and his lips didn’t leave mine as I stared into his shadowy eyes which were staring back at me.
“Burned in my brain,” he growled and I swallowed, keeping him held tight to me. “You in those sandals, that dress, sittin’ across from me, tryin’ to pretend I wasn’t there.”
At his words, emotion soared through me, a lot, too much. It felt my skin couldn’t contain it and my limbs spasmed around him.
Sam wasn’t done.
“Seein’ you sittin’ alone that night after dinner, so beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful, speakin’ to you only for you to turn and face me and see you had tears in your eyes. Those tears, Christ,” he bit off the last word on a snarl. “Never in my life… never felt that. I didn’t fuckin’ know you and seein’ those tears in your eyes fucking undid me.”
Oh my God!
“Sam –” I whispered and his hips ground into mine.
“Do not speak, Kia.”
I closed my mouth.
“Burned in my brain,” he muttered.
God. What was happening?
“You opening the door to me wearin’ that white dress. You in my arms tellin’ me about your girl with her cardboard cutout. You lyin’ beside me tellin’ me about your Mom makin’ birthdays special. You on the boat, the wind in your hair. You at the table, your head in your hand, your eyes on me. You driving down on my cock after I set you on fire.”
He remembered everything. Everything about me. Every moment. Every word.
God, God what was happening?
His arms around me got so tight it was difficult to breathe even as he threatened to tear apart my heart saying, “Should have let you have your breakfast pretending to ignore me.”
This wasn’t good. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Sam kept speaking. “I didn’t and now you’re mine, Kia. Mine,” he declared on another powerful arm squeeze that forced the breath right out of me.
Then suddenly his voice gentled but there was an edge to it that made my heart clutch. A hopelessness. A melancholy.
“Burn us into your brain, baby. Every second, every breath, burn us into your brain.”
I tried again, “Honey –”
That was all I got out before one of his hands drove into my hair, fisted and he rumbled, “No, Kia. Say nothing except to promise me.”
“We need to –”
His entire, massive body pressed mine into the headboard and he growled fiercely, “Promise me.”
I stared into his face in the dark, my heart beating, my lungs burning, my stomach hurting and I was lost. Clueless. I didn’t know what to do. What just happened, all he said, he was in the grip of something fierce and ugly and I didn’t know how to beat it back or let him know I was at his side to help him fight it.
So I took the only option available to me.
One of my hands slid up his neck to cup the back of his head and my lips brushed his before I left them there and whispered, “I promise you, baby.”
His arms got tight again then his mouth moved down my cheek and he pressed his face in my neck and held me. Even when he pulled out, he kept his face in my neck, my body pressed against the headboard and he kept holding me.
I held him back then finally, I turned my head and in his ear I whispered, “I need to go clean up.”
“No.” His head came up. “Tonight, you keep all of me with you. You don’t wash any of me away.”
“Okay,” I said instantly even as his words tore at my heart.
Then he pulled me from the headboard, shifting us so we were in our usual positions, Sam on his back, me tucked close to his side, cheek to his shoulder. But this time, his other hand crossed his chest and his fingers drifted through my hair and back and again and again.
I tangled my legs with his and pressed closer.
Then I turned my face to his shoulder, kissed his silken skin and whispered there, “I love you, honey.”
His hand settled on cheek a moment before it went away and he muttered in a normal Sam tone, “Good.”
I let out my breath, turned my head and laid my cheek back on his shoulder.
Sam’s arm got tighter.
He fell asleep way before me.
Hours later, I woke up alone.