Chapter Ten
Sam stood in the shower, letting the hot water pound over her. She soaped her stomach, lingering over the plane between her belly button and her hip. Remembering the trace of him, the dirty thrill as she came in and stripped off her clothes.
She’d say she couldn’t believe what she’d done in the woods, but of course she could. Believe it, want it, relive it. Crave it all over again. The rational part of her knew this had to stop. Too bad the rest of her had other ideas.
How fast had she gone from this isn’t happening to head back, legs parted, screaming his name? He’d felt every inch of her trembling around his fingers. She’d come on his face, pressed to his tongue. Grasped him as he came on her, a gesture so deeply personal it felt almost more intimate than fucking.
She pulled on a hotel bathrobe, hair damp and messy, clothes littering the floor. Cleaned up and away from Austin’s touch, her real life stared at her accusingly from the papers and blueprints scattered across her room. This was who she was. Not someone reckless, passionate, and free to do as she pleased, but someone endlessly scrolling through emails. She had a company to run. And, even more pressing, she had to prove herself able to do it.
She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and tied the robe tighter around her. She didn’t look very executive right now, but that was the beauty of the conference call. Nobody had to know that Fortune 500’s top Woman to Watch had just wiped come off her stomach after screaming the name of a man she’d met fewer than twenty-four hours before.
Not that there was anything wrong with that, she reminded herself. Men got to shoot their load wherever they wanted and still be presidents and CEOs.
So she liked sex. So she liked it with the guy her company was pressuring with a hard sell. Was that so wrong? It didn’t mean she had to tell him everything. It didn’t mean she had to get derailed.
Her phone dinged, announcing it was time. She called the office and got the news from the day, the accounts they had in progress, the deals that were already set. When it was Jim’s turn to give an update, he powered through with gruff formality, no indication of the twenty-plus text messages he’d left her before—at last—abruptly dropping the issue, as though if he couldn’t have her, he’d pretend they’d never done anything at all.
“Where are we on the Gold Mountain deal?” a VP demanded as soon as the first items on the agenda were done.
She was sitting on her bed with the sheets pulled back, legs crossed, bathrobe gaping so she could see the swell of her breasts in the mirror over the desk across from the bed. She looked like a stranger to herself, someone whose thighs were sore from skiing, from moguls, from clenching tight as she pressed her back against a worn wooden wall. But when she spoke, she was Samantha Kane all the way.
“As Steven has informed you, I’ve made contact with Mr. Reede. We’ll be ironing out the details tomorrow, Friday at the very latest. I will of course keep you informed.”
She meant it to sound final, but a volley of complaints rose through the phone.
“This is the best way to ensure Mr. Reede submits to the deal.” She nearly choked on her word choice but powered through. “I’ve made more progress with him in twenty-four hours than we did in months of letters and calls.”
She didn’t know how she’d become this person who lied so easily, to Austin that she knew nothing of the Kane deal, to her board that she was getting that very deal done. But this was the only way to keep them from closing in on her like vultures circling their prey.
“We’ve received a call from the Hendersons’ lawyer,” Jim said. “They’re threatening to find another buyer if there’s any more delay.”
“No one can match what we’re offering,” Sam said dismissively. “It’s posturing. They’ve waited this long—they can live through another day.”
“And if Mr. Reede proves as intractable as he’s always been?” She could hear the wry amusement in Jim’s voice. He wanted her to sweat in front of the board. He wanted to show that he could make her dance.
Sam stood and tightened the bathrobe around her. Body posture alone could change how you sounded on the phone. She used to practice for hours how to stand, how to breathe, speaking from low in her diaphragm, finding the register to make it sound natural, like nothing anyone would dream of arguing against. The hardest parts of the job worked only when they seemed effortless, when everyone was fooled.
“Mr. Reede is signing tomorrow,” she repeated. “Then the completed proposal goes to the Hendersons. We’ve waited years for this. We can wait another day.”
“What assurance do we have?” another voice piped up, followed by a diatribe about wasting company time and money on a “wild-goose chase.” “As your board, we’re authorized to take a vote if we deem you unfit to—”
“I suggest you think long and hard about what you’re insinuating before you finish that sentence.” Sam’s voice became so cold it would have terrified her had she been on the receiving end.
“If you could tell us what you’re doing to get Reede to change his mind—” Jim started, like he was too ballsy—or stupid—to care what Sam had just said. She cut him off. There’d be no more questioning her professionalism in front of the team.
“I’ll be on email the rest of the day and will send a memo when the sale is complete. In the meantime, we still have other accounts. I want those action items for the Trident building.”
She ended the call before she could hear whatever quips and gripes came through before they fully disconnected their phones. That was how she’d first heard her nickname, one person complaining to another that the wolf was at it again.
So let them have their names. It was probably good for morale, or bonding, or whatever. The sale would come through and then they’d see.
Tomorrow. She’d spend the night with Austin, get this thing out of her system, and then she’d present him with the papers he needed to sign. As much as she hated to admit Jim was right, she did need to remember her priorities.
Still, two days of skiing wouldn’t ruin anything. Some people even took vacations for multiple days! In a row! She sat back down on the bed. She was going to close her eyes for a second. Then she’d call the Hendersons to reassure them the ink on their final part of the deal would be dry by the end of the week.
The next thing she knew, it was dark in her room and the phone was vibrating in her hand. She’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, still clutching the phone, and Austin was texting her.
I picked up those things I needed, he said.
Condoms, he had condoms. Sam felt a flutter rising inside her again.
Lucky me, she wrote back.
Her phone buzzed with his response. It’s going to be a tough competition for luckiest.
She didn’t have to rack her brain for a response. Too bad for you I always win.
She smiled in the dark, her lids heavy, her legs even sorer than when she’d fallen asleep. Her yoga instructor would kill her if she knew how Sam had flopped into bed without stretching. The text came back right away: 7 pm. Dinner at my place. I’ll pick you up. It’s on.
Perfect. He could drop her back at her car at Mack Daddy’s when they were done.
The Dipper, she reminded herself quickly. Better use the proper name if by the end of the week she was going to officially own all this land, including the peak, the resort, half of Austin’s property, and the restaurant.
She checked her email again, dealing with any fires that needed to be put out while flagging whatever could wait. She was just going through the motions, though, her mind entirely elsewhere. Usually getting ready for a date involved some kind of song and dance. Would they or wouldn’t they? What exactly would the night entail? But Austin had specifically let her know that he had condoms. They’d left it with the promise that he was going to—fuck her, that’s what he’d said. She felt a warm flush spread across her chest. Was it a booty call if there was dinner involved? If it was at his house? If she really, really liked him?
Could she still like him if she knew there was no potential there?
She hoped the sex would be good enough to make up for how angry he was going to be.
But she’d known from their first kiss that it would be worth it.
It already was.
Sam grabbed her hat, scarf, and gloves and put on her boots. On her way out she stopped at the small shop on the first floor of the hotel. She walked through the aisles seeing the blueprints overlaid in her mind, where the walls were going to be knocked down, the store expanded to stock gourmet prepared foods and quick meals to supplement the full grocery store that would open farther down the access road.
She lingered over a bottle of wine but wound up grabbing a chilled six-pack instead, not sure what Austin liked but remembering he’d had beer the night before. At the register she had another idea. She bundled up and walked to the main lodge at the base of the mountain. Inside was a ski store, and she found exactly what she was looking for, including a man working the floor who tried them on for her, making sure they’d fit. “Warm but breathable,” he promised. “Trust me, your boyfriend will love them.”
She almost corrected him, then let the comment stand. What was she going to say? They’re just for the guy I’m fucking tonight. A little thank-you for how hard he already made me come once today. She hoped the clerk couldn’t see how much she was blushing from her own thoughts.
She walked back to the hotel and waited for Austin outside, minimizing the risk of a run-in with the concierge. She wondered what his place was like inside, where his friends lived, what they thought of Austin holding out against the Kanes. Were they all out here in the woods? Did they like it? Did they long for anything else?
The thought of Connor’s beet burger made her mouth water. Whatever Kane Enterprises wound up doing with the Dipper, they were going to have to convince Connor to stay on. Maybe they’d tear it down and build something with the same kind of charm that wasn’t actually falling apart. Mack could be the bartender, not just beer but a full bar, cocktails…
She was getting ahead of herself. She held the paper bag with her purchases close to her chest. Food, sex, sleep, sale. Maybe she could fit in an afternoon of skiing after everything was done. No matter what, by this time Friday she’d be driving toward the city lights, over four billion dollars’ worth of land and property in her company’s name.
Or maybe the order was sex, then food. When Austin pulled up, Sam almost kissed him right when she got into the truck, except the valet guys were there. He wore a black beanie loose on his head, bits of hair sticking out underneath. He smelled of soap with a hint of wood smoke. When he pulled up to his house, she knew why. Smoke rose from the chimney, a fire burning low in the fireplace. He stoked it back up and added fresh logs when they walked in.
“I should have asked you before, but are you okay with dogs?” he asked.
Before Sam could say yes, an enormous German shepherd with a glossy coat came up and stuck her wet nose to Sam’s outstretched hand.
“Sorry, she’s way too friendly. Give her a chance to come in, Chloe,” he scolded. “Not everyone wants to be your new best friend.”
Sam laughed and let Chloe sniff her. When the dog seemed satisfied, Sam reached out and ran her fingers through her fur.
“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Sam said, then felt silly, because even though she’d driven by his house before—which she was never going to tell him—there were a million things she didn’t know about Austin. Like what he’d done after his injury. Or what he liked to do besides ski. A million things she’d never ask, because she didn’t want him turning the questions on her.
“It smells great in here,” she said to cover her blunder, and pulled the six-pack from the bag.
“Nice,” he said. “Leave your things by the door, I’ll get a bottle opener. Do you want a glass?”
“Bottle’s fine,” she said, pulling off her boots and hanging up her jacket.
Bachelor in the mountains could go very, very wrong. But the house, though small, was inviting. The doorway opened into a living room with comfortable furniture, a matching heather-green sofa and love seat angled around the fireplace, a television mounted above. Stairs led to a lofted bedroom—she could see the edge of the bed, and what looked like the feet of an antique wood dresser upstairs. Next to the living room was a dining area with a large round table, and behind it an open kitchen where something delicious-smelling bubbled on the stove.
She went to stand by the sliding glass doors and looked out at what she could make of the view in the dark. There was a backyard covered in snow, and then behind it, nothing but trees. There were no neighbors, no lights, no intrusions from the outside world. Hell, she could see why he was so attached.
“It’s not much,” Austin said, coming up with two opened beers. “But it’s home.”
Sam smiled as she took her beer. “It’s perfect,” she said. And so are you, she almost added, eyeing him up and down with a quick flutter in her chest. He was wearing a button-down fitted tight across his pecs, the sleeves rolled up to expose the blond hair on his arms. She wanted to sink to her knees right there and yank off his belt, feel the satisfying slide of the leather as she pulled it through the loops, drawing out his pleasure, her fun.
Instead, he gestured for her to sit on the couch. So they were going to be polite about it. Okay. At the last minute she remembered her gift.
“I have something for you.” She brought him the other package.
He eyed her uncertainly as he unfolded the bag.
“Not much of a wrapping job,” she apologized.
“You weren’t supposed to get me anything.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to. Come on, open it.” She was getting excited anticipating the look on his face, how grateful he was going to be. Men were so hard to shop for, and yet as soon as she’d had the idea, she’d known it was perfect. The best presents were the ones there was no reason for. Just a simple way to show she’d been thinking of him.
But when he reached into the bag, his face froze, his jaw tightening in a way she’d never seen before. Even before he said, “I can’t accept this, Sam,” she knew that somehow, without meaning to, she’d done something wrong.
“You haven’t even seen what it is,” she protested.
He pulled out the gloves. They were black, with leather reinforcements across the palm and not a hole in sight. Yet he was holding them as though they might poison his hands.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “This is really nice, Sam.”
“But?”
“But I’m sorry.” He shook his head and passed them over to her. “I can’t.”
“Try one on,” she prodded. Reluctantly he slipped his hand inside. She could tell it fit perfectly, the top cinching at just the right place up his arm so the snow and the cold wouldn’t get in.
“Tell me they don’t feel amazing.”
He sighed. “They do. They feel amazing.”
“Top of the line.”
“I know.” He pulled the glove off and nestled it with its mate on the back of the couch.
“I’ve seen how much you work when you ski. This is warm, waterproof, but it’s supposed to be breathable, it’ll wick the sweat away—”
“Sam,” he interrupted, taking her hands in his. She shut her mouth. “This is really, really sweet of you. But these gloves cost two hundred dollars. I can’t accept that kind of gift from you.”
She pulled her hands away, surprised by how stung she felt. “It’s my choice. I wanted to get them for you. They’re yours.”
“No.” He pushed them toward her. “Please.”
It was such as simple thing. Such a stupid thing. And yet she could feel tears spring to her eyes. She’d been so excited to see him, and the gloves felt like an extension of that. The idea that she was trying to buy him made her feel dirty. The idea that he’d rejected being bought made her feel even worse. This wasn’t his property they were talking about. She’d wanted him to know that she cared.
“I’m not concerned about the money,” she said.
“I get that,” he said. “It seems like it’s not a big deal to you.”
“No, you don’t get that,” she shot back. “Otherwise you’d take them without making it into an issue.”
She saw the surprise on his face and immediately regretted it, not just what she’d said but the tone. Her phone call with work was still inside her, leaching out.
But Austin didn’t know her like that. She didn’t want him to know her like that. She wanted him to think of her like Amelia did. What was that word? Nice. Even when she wasn’t. Even when she knew she couldn’t be.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just excited, that’s all. I don’t want it to be a thing. I’ll take them back.”
He reached for her hand again. “Thank you.”
“You wear those gloves held together by duct tape and I thought…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The idea that she’d thought he’d be excited to have a new pair of gloves had obviously been way off base, but it couldn’t be just about money. Most people politely protested then were happy to accept the thing they wanted but would never have bought for themselves. But Austin had been adamant. It was like he was with the land, so damn principled he couldn’t imagine things another way.
She put the gloves back in the bag. If only they fit her, she would have kept them for herself.
If only she had someone else she could give them to, but that made her think of her father and how she couldn’t give them to him, could no longer give him anything, and this time she couldn’t stop the tears in her eyes.
“Oh, hey, hey,” Austin said quickly, reaching out to wrap her in a hug. “I’m sorry, I handled that wrong. Please, don’t—”
“It’s okay.” She shook her head, embarrassed by such vulnerability. “It’s not really that. It’s…I don’t know. Something just popped into my mind. It still happens like that sometimes. I think I’m fine and then all of a sudden, it’s like a wave that comes out of nowhere.”
“Your father?” he asked.
She nodded, then pulled away from him. “Can we start over?” She dropped the bag of gloves by the door, out of view. “I brought beer. It smells delicious in here. Your place is lovely. I thought about you all afternoon.”
She forced a smile, but when Austin raised his beer and clinked it against hers the smile was real and she was back, she was okay, the gloves didn’t matter when she bought them and they wouldn’t matter when she brought them back. Austin kissed her, the kind of kiss that said he’d been thinking about her, too. “Can I give you the grand tour?”
“Sure,” she said, on solid footing now.
He turned his arm to take in the open floor plan. “This is it.”
She laughed. “Fabulous. What’s cooking?”
“Soup and fresh-baked bread, although before you get too excited I should confess that I had Connor bring it over. I don’t know a thing about bread.”
Sam’s eyes lit up. “A Connor creation? Then I know it’s going to be good.”
“Maybe I should lead with that, tell you the dinner’s amazing because Connor was here.”
“It does help your pitch.”
“So I shouldn’t be embarrassed that Connor also seasoned the soup?”
Sam bit her lip, pretending to think. “If the meal is good, you’ll still be able to hold your head high.”
“Let’s hope he didn’t intentionally sabotage my whole plan.”
“Your plan?” Sam sank into the couch and looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.
Austin took her beer from her hand and placed it next to his on the coffee table. He wrapped an arm around her and then shifted the two of them together so he was lying partway on top of her, leaning her back against the arm of the couch. “My plan to wow you with dinner and then get you into bed.”
Sam slithered farther under him. Up against a wall had been fun, but to feel the weight of his body on top of her, the press of his leg between hers—this was what she’d wanted all afternoon. “I don’t think that required much of a plan,” she said, running her hand through his hair, marveling how it got all spiky and messed up and perfect looking no matter what he did. “You could have served me anything and I’d still wind up in your bed. Or, as it turns out, your couch.”
He ran his hands up her stomach, grazing the side of her breast. “Damn,” he murmured. “All that work for nothing.”
His hand was large, strong. The way he touched her made her feel like he had her completely. Like she belonged.
“I guess now Connor knows who in Gold Mountain is getting some tonight,” Sam said with a laugh, tracing her fingers up his back.
“I may have said that I needed dinner tips to impress a lady. I didn’t say which lady. And I was vague about the terms of the word ‘impress.’”
“And how often do you typically call on Connor to save your ass when it comes to entertaining women?”
“Not often enough,” Austin conceded.
“And how many unnamed ladies has Connor seen you with recently?”
“Possibly just one.”
“Yet again, you go around making me look like the dirty one.” She shifted under him, pressing her pelvis up against his thigh.
He pushed back into her just as firmly and rolled up the bottom of her sweater, exposing the skin underneath. “I don’t recall you objecting before,” he said, his voice low, dropping down to kiss the bare skin. Reminding them both of what they’d done up there on the mountain, desperate for each other against the shelter wall.
She stroked his hair. “Maybe you should turn off the heat under that soup.”
Austin agreed that was an excellent idea. He turned off the stove and whistled for Chloe to go to her dog bed upstairs. Suddenly Sam found herself almost…nervous. A quick and dirty whatever-it-was in the stolen minutes in the middle of the day was one thing. The quiet crackle of the fire, smell of warm bread, the home she knew was so important to him—this was something else altogether.
Austin was right. She shouldn’t have gotten him the gloves. They were too much, an extravagance her bank account could afford but not her heart. They wouldn’t make him think kindly of her when it was over. They’d only serve to remind him of how different, how completely at odds they were.
But when she stood up, she couldn’t make herself call this off. He came back to the couch and she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling the scent of him, soap and smoke from the fire, spices from the soup. She felt his solidness against her chest and knew she was like a log on the fire, too much a part of him now to pull back.
It was a good thing she knew how to act without thinking. She had a lifetime of experience pushing aside her nerves and doubt to do whatever she was determined to accomplish. She kissed him and he kissed her back, and that was all she needed to forget her uncertainty. She pushed him back toward the couch and then down so he was sitting. She pulled her sweater over her head as he looked up at her. His hands reached for her and she slapped them away. Austin’s eyes flashed.
Sam leaned over him, her breasts cupped in a plum bra accented with lace. She loved the way he looked at her, how his breath quickened when she straddled his lap. She loved the feeling when she ground her hips against him, and the press of his hard-on through his jeans.
When Austin reached his hands up to try and unhook her bra, she grabbed his wrists and threw them back, pinning them against the cushions. He bucked his hips up into her. She pushed back equally hard. This was what she wanted, a chance to let go. There was no worry about right or wrong or slutty or reserved or whatever the ubiquitous chorus of criticisms in her head and all around her came up with next. Right now Sam wasn’t nice or a bitch or one of Seattle’s most powerful executives. She was just a woman panting in his ear, getting ready to take what was hers.
One hand kept Austin’s wrists pinned in place. The other undid the buttons of his shirt. She knew he was strong enough to push her off whenever he wanted, but she also knew the rapid rise and fall of his chest was real. His breath came fast and ragged, his body on edge. He tried to reach for her, but she slammed his arms back into the sofa. “No.”
Sam opened his shirt, running her hand over his chest. She ran her lips along the newly exposed skin, licking that incredibly sexy vein that ran across the front of his shoulder and down his biceps. But she had to release his arms to do this, and now he grabbed her hair in his fist and pulled back, making her lift her head. His green eyes were hard and bright in the firelight. He ran a finger down her nose, over her lips. She opened her mouth and sucked on his fingertip.
“Take off my pants,” he said hoarsely.
Sam snaked her tongue over his finger and lowered her head, kissing down his stomach, making him squirm. She would do what he demanded, but slowly. In her own way.
She used her teeth to unbutton his jeans. Then she clamped her mouth on the zipper and tugged. Austin let out a groan, thrusting his hips up, desperate to be released. She pulled back the top of his jeans and ran her tongue along the line where his boxer briefs hugged, her mouth watering in anticipation. The sight of that curve where his hips plunged down made her breath catch. She pressed her lips there as she tugged his pants down the rest of the way.
His cock was fully hard in his well-fitted black boxer briefs. She ran her face over it, feeling him through the fabric, a precursor to the way she was going to devour him. Then she hooked her fingers under the band and pulled down just so the tip poked out. She kissed it, wet with suction from her lips, and she thought Austin was going to cry he was so ready for her mouth.
But the more of the fabric she pulled down the more skin she had to kiss, and she teased him, making him wait until he was completely naked and at her command. She might have tortured him even more, but she was desperate, too. She settled with her knees on the ground and slid his length all the way back to her throat.
He was thick and full and she took as much as she could, moving her mouth up and down, sliding her tongue over the tip before plunging back down. She loved how he filled her. She loved how he groaned, a luscious sound, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. His thighs clenched, hips thrusting into her mouth. He ran his fingers through her hair, and when she reached up to press her palm to his stomach, he covered her hand in his, holding it tight. Every so often she caught him lifting his head to look at her, and then the waves of sensation would overcome him and he’d have to drop his head back into the pillows. When she felt his balls tightening in her palm, she wasn’t surprised when he pulled her off him.
“Too close.” He let out a long, steadying breath. “Way, way too close.” He pinched his eyes shut and swore.
Sam lifted her mouth and allowed herself a small, self-satisfied grin. His cock glistened with saliva, beautiful and inviting. She stood up. Austin, panting, limbs gone slack with wanting, gazed up at her.
“You’re stunning,” he whispered.
She took off her bra and dropped it on his chest. His eyes devoured her breasts, then darted to her pants. She raised an eyebrow, as if in question.
“Dear God,” he choked. “Please.”
She unzipped her jeans while he watched, mesmerized. She pulled them over her hips, enjoyed the tight slide down her thighs. Stepped out of them as he took her all in. Austin grabbed her ass, drawing her closer. His teeth raked over her panties, his mouth hot on the wet spot she had made.
He was hungry for her. He was tight and hard with wanting. He was going to make her pay for every torturous second she’d withheld her mouth from him.
He ran his hands over her body as though to prove she was here, she was real, she was his. When he pulled her panties down, he slid his finger along her slit, then pressed his chin against her pelvis and looked up, smiling. She ran a hand through his hair that always looked good no matter how messy it was. And then quickly, firmly, she pushed him back so he was lying on the couch again.
Austin might have thought it was his turn, but Sam wasn’t done. She climbed on top of him, straddling him, rubbing her sex against the length of his shaft, feeling the tip of his cock against her clit.
“There’s a condom in my pocket,” he said hoarsely, but Sam shook her head.
“Not yet.”
He looked confused until she dragged her legs up his side, straddling his torso, then his chest. He’d seemed to enjoy it so much in the shelter—why shouldn’t she make this last as long as she could? She bent down and kissed his lips, soft and warm. Then she slid her knees up by his ears and sat directly on his waiting tongue.
He licked her, devoured her, let her grind her hips into his mouth, his chin. His stubble grated her thighs with a delicious scratch right on the line between pleasure and pain so that she was pulling away even as she thrust down. She felt his arm moving and knew he was stroking himself in the same rhythm that he licked her. The thought of his hand on his cock drove her out of her mind. She pulled away from his mouth—she didn’t want this to be over too soon.
“How about that condom now?” she asked and bent over to riffle through his pants. He took the opportunity to come partway up on his elbows, but when she sat over him, ripping the condom wrapper with her teeth, she pushed him back down. His eyes flashed. She slid the condom on.
They held eyes as she lowered herself onto him, feeling the sweet, sharp sensation of her body unlocking for him.
And then she let him know exactly who he belonged to tonight.
Jim had always accused Sam of wanting to be on top because she had to be in charge, but that wasn’t it at all. What Jim didn’t understand was that Sam liked being on top because it felt goddamn good—why wasn’t that reason enough? And Austin was more than game. He responded to her every move until her whole world narrowed to the sensations mounting within her. His cock filled her; her clit ground right where she wanted it. The twinned pressure built and built until all of a sudden, like a wave, it broke.
She was still drawing out every tremble when Austin picked up his pace. He clung to her hips, positioning her, and came with a cry, lifting his torso to bury his face in the crook of Sam’s neck. She rocked her hips with him, savoring every second. When he finished they collapsed together on the couch. She pressed a palm to his chest and felt the gallop of his heart, the way that it raced just for her.
Austin pulled out and took the condom off, but after he threw it away he came back and lay down with her. She settled against his body with a sigh. He was so warm, so comfortable, so hard and soft in all the right ways. Only the grumble of her stomach made them finally pull away.
“I have to feed you if I’m going to keep your energy up,” he said as he went to reheat the soup and let the bread warm in the oven.
Sam couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. Had he just promised her another round?
As he moved around the kitchen, she peeked over the top of the couch to get a better view of what she was getting to enjoy tonight.
“Damn, that ass,” she murmured, staring at him. She hadn’t fully realized she’d spoken out loud until he gave a little shake of his butt at the stove. She burst out laughing. She was still giggling when he jumped on the couch and tackled her, kissing and tickling, before finally pulling a blanket over them so they could lie in front of the fire until the soup was done.
Forget what Sam had to deal with tomorrow. This, she thought with satisfaction, is a man who knows how to do a one-night stand.