TWENTY-ONE

 

P R E S E N T   D A Y

 

I TAKE MY time in the shower and process the events of the morning. I can't believe Sam and I are happening. Of course, I don't yet know what that even means. I can't know if he just wants to be friends who hook up, or if he wants a go at a relationship, and truly, I'm not sure if I'm even capable of one. And of course there's his whole no girlfriends in high school rule to contend with.

All I know is we're no longer "just friends". We're something more. And for the first time in the longest time, I allow myself to indulge in something I never thought I'd have again – something I’ve only had vague little inklings of in recent days.

Hope.

I smile as I dress in the one bikini I own, thanks to Carl. I pull on my cutoff shorts and a black tank top and knock on the door that connects my room to Sam's before I can back out and change into a one piece. I open the door on my side and find that Sam never even closed his.

Sam is in gray board shorts and a black tank top, almost matching me, except he looks utterly stunning. His slightly overlong, messy hair is pushed back by wire framed sunglasses, and I sigh when I realize how much attention he's going to get with those defined arms out there on display like that.

His are heated, and I'm not expecting it. "Those are some short shorts," he murmurs, almost disapprovingly.

I frown. He's right. I should go change. God, what was I thinking? And I'm wearing a freaking bikini!

Sam approaches me and bends so our gazes are level. "You don't look like you're asking for anything, Ror, so stop freaking out. You just look hot. You always do. Covering up more isn't going to change that. So relax and let's go have a good time with our friends, okay?" he says cautiously.  

  I'm not sure I agree, but I nod anyway and sling my beach bag over my shoulder, letting him take my hand and lead me out the door.

"Hey, do you mind?" he asks, reaching into his pocket to produce his cell phone and room key. "Since you have a bag? I know I'll forget and jump in the pool with it."

I laugh and open the bag for him to throw his things in. Sam drops my hand and slips his arm casually around my waist and I suppress my sigh. I wonder if this is how it will be now - if I get to be in his arms whenever I want.

Which is all the damn time.

****

 

Sam and I are alone in the elevator when backs me into the corner. "You know what to say if you're ever uncomfortable, right?" he asks softly.  

I nod. I know our safe word. But my discomfort has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with my unquenched desire. Sam brushes my hair over my shoulder, bends, and starts kissing my neck.

Oh, my.

I turn my head to give him better access and he smiles against my skin. "You smell different," he observes, nuzzling my hair.

"Huh?"

"You usually smell like honey and vanilla." He plants small kisses along my jaw.

"You know what I smell like?" I ask, incredulous. Honey and vanilla is the scent of my conditioner at home. Of course, I know his scent very well, but then, I'm in love with him, so the playing field isn't exactly level.

Sam nods and I feel rather than see it.

"I, uh, used the hotel's conditioner," I explain, and he doesn't respond, he just starts nibbling on my ear.

Holy hell, that's hot.

Ding.

The doors open and Sam steps away, but not far, and I'm once again left reeling as three men, presumably other spring breakers, enter the elevator and shamelessly check me out. I swallow nervously, but Sam pulls me possessively to his side, glaring at them. And I'm grateful.

"Just lookin' bro, no harm," one of them drawls, palms forward in a show of pacifism.

"Look somewhere else," Sam shoots back.  

The stranger laughs. "No need to go all territorial, dude. If you don't want other guys checkin' out your girl you should probably get a less hot girlfriend, and you definitely shouldn't have brought her to Miami for spring break," he slurs. How is he drunk already? It's barely one in the afternoon.

Sam subtly maneuvers me behind him. "And if you want to keep you fucking face arranged like it is, you should probably look. Somewhere. Else," he says both calmly and completely menacingly.

The elevator pings again and the doors glide open. Without breaking his glare at slurry stranger, Sam guides me out and starts pulling me through the lobby, and I practically have to jog to keep up with his long, agitated strides.

"Sam, it's fine," I murmur, and he finally casts me a glance, his gaze softening instantly, the tension in his muscles easing. His gait slows until I'm walking beside him instead of being pulled like a puppy on a leash. He releases my hand and slings his arm around my shoulder, pressing a sweet kiss to my hair.

"He was right, you know," he mutters. "It would be easier to get guys to stop looking at you if you weren't so motherfucking hot."

I laugh. I love that he thinks of me that way when for so long I was sure he wasn't even attracted to me. "But then you might not want me," I reply, trying on his trademark smirk.

"Don't be ridiculous."

*****

 

We join the others by the pool, and though it isn't really all that odd for Sam to have an arm around me in a friendly sort of way, Carl still notices and shoots me a subtle smirk. I roll my eyes dismissively. Tuck sits behind her on a lounge chair, rubbing sunblock onto her shoulders.

"Hmm, you two showing up together, how interesting," Dave drawls.

"Quiet, Dave." Sam gestures for me to take the lounge chair next to Carl before settling on the one beside mine.

Lily is apparently asleep next to Tuck and Carl, and Tina and Andrew are in the pool.

"Hey Rory," she calls from the water, and I give her a small wave.

"Damn it, Tuck, grow up!" Carl admonishes when Tuck's hands wander past the sides of her bikini top.

"Hey, I don't want these babies to burn," he fires back.

"What do you care? It's not like you'll be touching them anyway if you keep acting like such a jerk," Carl spits, and Tuck falls back onto the lounger in dramatic exasperation.

"Too much information, you two. Get your shit together," Sam murmurs.

"Like you two did?" Dave teases, nodding to Sam and me, and a blush rises to my cheeks. "Interesting that the last time I saw either of you, you were stumbling into a cab together, and now here you are. It makes me wonder-"

"Don't get too excited, Dave. Cap was alone in his room this morning, so I'm pretty sure the only place he touched Pine was in his dreams," Tuck informs the group.

I throw my arm over my face as if I can hide from the idiots that are Sam's friends.

"You two are fucking morons," Sam mutters, blowing them both off.

"Seriously," Carl agrees. "Do you want some tanning oil, Rory?"

I remove my arm from my eyes and shake my head. "No thanks. It's hot. Anyone wanna go down to the ocean?" I ask. I've always preferred the ocean to a pool. Something about the salt water and the infinite vastness of the sea makes me feel like my issues aren't as devastating as they seem. Like I'm just one ephemeral piece of a boundless world - a part of something far greater than just myself and my troubles.

"I'm in," Sam murmurs, and I bite my lip to stifle my grin.

I tug my tank top over my head and stand to shimmy out of my shorts. I picture Sam kissing my neck in the elevator to distract me from my nerves at our friends seeing me in a bikini. Carl and Lily are wearing barely more than a few scraps of material connected by thin strings, so I don't feel too self-conscious.

Sam has removed his shirt, but seems to be making no move to join me. "You comin'?" I ask.

"Yeah, Rory. You go ahead, I'll be right behind you," he murmurs.

I frown in confusion, but grab my towel and start across the pool deck anyway. Sam is still seated when I glance back, and despite the fact that he's slipped on his sunglasses, I'm fully aware that he's staring at me walking away.

It strikes me that Sam just had me go ahead of him so he could stare at my ass. Is it normal that I'm flattered instead of outraged?

I roll my eyes and continue onto the boardwalk that connects the resort to the beach, and wait on Sam there, where our friends can't see us.

"Boo!" I shout when he reaches me, pleased when he jumps in surprise. Sam recovers quickly, though, sliding his arms around my waist to pull me against him. He kisses me hard and fast before pulling away far too quickly to lead me down the steps to the beach.

"You're a sneaky little thing, aren't you," he muses.

I laugh. "Me? I'm not the one who told you to walk ahead of me so I could stare at your ass," I tease.

Sam smirks. "I didn't realize I was quite so obvious, Ror. I'll try and be more subtle next time."

"Next time... just ask," I reply as seductively as I can, completely out of character, and then drop my towel in the sand and race toward the waves. But Sam is faster than me and he catches me before I reach the surf. I giggle as he wraps me in a hug, his hands wandering up and down my back, and vaguely I think he's going to feel my ass rather than just look at it this time. I'm also quite certain I have no intention of stopping him. I want his hands on me. But they land on the back of my thighs instead, and he lifts me without warning, tossing me over his shoulder with minimal effort.

I yelp and swat at his behind, but he just chuckles and walks languidly into the water. I realize he's going to throw me into the water and my pulse accelerates. I'm a get-used-to-it-gradually kind of girl, definitely not one to take the shock all at once. But I do want to be a good sport for Sam, especially after that elevator stranger pissed him off because of me.

I brace myself to be tossed, but Sam slides me down the front of his body instead, torturously slowly, and I feel every inch of it - every warm, firm ridge - against mine.

Holy shit.

I don't even register the frigid water, even though we're waist deep. I feel anything but cold.

Sam gazes down at me. "Hi," he says softly.

"Hi," I reply, smiling timidly up at him even though I was teasing him about looking at my ass mere minutes ago.

He takes my hand and leads me deeper into the water until it's up to my chest and his waist. His hands roam over my hips, my back, and my stomach, lingering on the half inch of scar that peeks out above my swimsuit bottoms. I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the cold. My breaths come a little more quickly, and I just stand here, staring up at him from beneath my lashes, waiting. For what, I haven’t a clue. I don't know what I expect him to do here.

Sam gently cups my jaw like he's holding a treasured possession, his midnight blue gaze making silent promises I can't begin to understand. His fingers thread through my hair as he bends, achingly slowly, his eyes darting around to ensure our friends aren't in sight before - finally - his mouth captures mine. His kiss is teasing and sensual, his lips caressing mine in an equal exchange of affection and hunger. I find myself smiling even through our kiss, and I can feel it against my mouth when he returns it. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and I moan, but he pulls away and presses his forehead to mine.

"God, Ror, no more of those sexy little sounds. Not in public. You're killing me," he says gruffly.

"So let's go back inside," I whisper.

Sam pulls away to look down at me with narrowed eyes, like he's sizing me up. "You're trouble, you," he decides, and then suddenly dives under the water, surfacing no fewer than five feet away.

I grumble to myself, but when I catch Tuck and Carl splashing in the shallows with Tina and Andrew following from the beach, I understand.

"Fine, you win. Let's go join them." With no other choice, I concede, and start making my way to our friends.

"I, uh- need a minute," Sam says, still with that husky tone that affects me in a decidedly physical way, his gaze accusatory as he nods for me to go ahead.

I laugh, but honestly, the knowledge that he's attracted to me, that I can affect him, it's a heady feeling, and I revel in it.

****

 

We lay on the white sand, lazing in the dwindling afternoon sun. Tuck and Carl are getting along for now, and he sits behind her with his arms wrapped possessively around her middle. Sam lounges on my towel, and I lay perpendicular to him, my head pillowed on his perfect abs. The slow rise and fall of his breathing threatens to lull me to sleep, and I can't risk another nightmare in public. Yeah, no thanks - I learned that lesson on the plane.

I sit up. "Who's hungry?" I ask.

"Ugh, definitely not me. I'm still stuffed from brunch," Carl replies, playfully slapping her flat tummy. I guess they all ate before we came down this afternoon.

"Come on, princess, I want food," Tuck argues. I learned he originally started calling her "princess" to poke fun of her family's extreme wealth, which in this group is saying something. It seems to have evolved into a term of endearment, though, and one can usually tell whether or not they're getting along for the moment by his tone, which ranges from adoring to exasperated.

Sam stands. "Come on, let's go get some smoothies," he decides.

I smile. A smoothie sounds perfect.

We all get our things together and I slip my shorts on over my sun-dried swimsuit. We push a couple of tables and chairs together on the pool deck's lounge area to accommodate our group. Sam asks me what I want and I tell him to surprise me. Raising his hand in salute, he shoots me an adorable wink, and off he goes with his marching orders. As the boys wait for our drinks, Carl, Tina, Lily and I sit around and talk about them. I sense that Carl is dying to ask me about Sam, but she wouldn't dare in front of an audience, and I'm grateful for the reprieve, fleeting as it may be.

Sam brings me a strawberry-banana smoothie and I start gulping it down, only now realizing how hungry I was. I'd eat something more substantial, but with dinner only a few hours away I'd prefer not to spoil my appetite - an long-standing pet peeve of mine. Tonight we're having separate dinners for the boys and girls - spring break bonding and all that. I was looking forward to it before this morning. Now, not so much. It's interesting how many of us have kind of coupled up. Not surprising really - except for Sam and me - but interesting.

Of course, I'm not sure if Sam and I are actually coupled up, or just exploring that "something more" he spoke of. I'm afraid I'll end up hurt, but I guess that was a foregone conclusion the moment I tripped over the edge of that cliff we called friendship, and started falling hard. But at least now I've got a shot at temporary happiness before the inevitable crash-landing. Stupid, slippery fucking cliff. I should've seen it coming. But then, the drop was too sudden, too steep, its hazard signs hidden by the haze of his masculine beauty, his generosity and kindness, and the kindred connection he once tried to explain. But you can't explain the inexplicable, and I was hurtling toward my impending heartbreak from the moment he stumbled upon me panicking outside of calculus.

"So we'll all meet up at the bar after dinner?" Andrew asks.

"Yeah, around eleven or so," Carl confirms.

"How's your smoothie, Ror?" Sam asks quietly.

I nod and smile, still lost in thought.

"Ha, Ror. Do you call her that 'cause she's so good in bed that that's what she makes you do when you fuck her? Ha! Roar! Get it?" Dave guffaws like the ape that he is, and I suck in air and try to pretend someone did not just reference fucking me.

Ten, nine, eigh-

I'm yanked from my internal counting when Sam leaps across the table, knocking an empty chair to the ground in the process, and grabs Dave by his shirt. He drags him from his seat and shoves him up against the wall behind him. "I told you to show her some fucking respect!" Sam snarls.

"Cap," Tuck warns.

"Dude, I was just fucking kidding. She can take a damn joke!" Dave defends, obviously frazzled, bordering on frightened.

"Cap, he got it," Tuck tries again to intervene.

Sam's jaw clenches, he bites his lip, and then I see his hand fist, and his arm rear back...

"Sam!" I yelp.

He freezes. His fist opens, and closes, then falls limply to his side. He takes an audibly deep breath.

"You will watch how you fucking talk about her," he says simply, his calm tone belying the serious threat. To his friend.

Without another word, Sam turns and walks back toward the hotel lobby. I stand to go after him, but Carl grabs my arm to stop me.

"Rory, just give him a few minutes, okay?"

"I'm just gonna make sure he's alright." I try to pull away, but she doesn't yield.

"He's fine. Just let him cool down." She lowers her voice. "Look, Cap has anger issues. He used to get in a lot of fights. Not so much lately, but... if he's angry, just let him cool down."

"But-"

Tucker sets a supportive hand on Carl's shoulder. "Rory, I promise he's fine. He just needs to be alone for a bit. He'll come back. Trust me," he assures me, and I hesitantly sit back down.

I frown. Just leave him alone? When he's upset?

No, that doesn't feel right.

I stand back up, and with Carl's guard down, I get a distance away. I know she's scowling at me, but no one comes after me, so they can't be too worried about Sam's anger.

I head straight to the elevator, idly aware that I didn't bring my bag or even my shirt. One other person is in the elevator with me, and belatedly I realize he was one of the guys with that slurry asshole that pissed off Sam earlier.

He looks me up and down and I ignore him, pretending not to notice.

"Where's pretty-boy? Your tough-guy boyfriend left you all alone?" he taunts.

I try to hide my startle and my anxious swallow. The old Rory would just murmur that he's not my boyfriend, I don't think, and perhaps cower in the corner. But I've had plenty of self-defense classes and I'd have no qualms about kneeing this loser in the balls. He'd never see it coming. "Fuck off," I growl instead.

"Ooh, we have a live one," he sneers, "Well, shit. I guess he didn't teach you to watch your fucking mouth when you talk to men."

I narrow my eyes. "No. But he taught me how some men treat girls. And I know how to handle those men. So unless you want to see how a crazy bitch reacts when she's backed into a corner, I suggest you Fuck. Off." I say carefully.

The only boyfriend I've ever had did teach me how some men treat girls. And because of that, I took the classes. Loser's eyebrows shoot up through his forehead. He was just expecting to bully me a little and then walk away. And it's not like he's going to beat on a teenage girl in a public elevator equipped with a camera.

Ding.

The elevator arrives at his floor, and with a scowl but without another word, he turns and exits the car. I breathe a tremendous sigh of relief when the doors close and the lift begins to rise. I hadn't quite realized how anxious I was. But I didn't freak out. I didn't panic. I was strong.

And I know who has helped to make me that way. To give me this confidence. Who offered me comfort when I was upset. And now he's upset, and they all want me to just leave him alone?

Hell no.

I get out on our floor and head straight to Sam's room. I know how it feels to want to be alone, and his hotel room is the only place he can do that here in Miami.

I knock, and wait.

And knock, and wait.

And knock.

And knock.

And wait.

After five minutes of knocking, I go next door to my own room, grateful that I happen to have the room key in the pocket of my shorts. I open the door that leads to his room. The door on his side is closed, but when I turn the handle, I find it isn't locked.

I go in. Of course I do.

"Sam?" I say hesitantly.

I look to my right, where the living and kitchen areas are.

Empty.

I take a few steps toward the bedroom door and say his name again. Nothing.

I make my way back in the other direction and notice the sliding balcony doors are open, so I step tentatively through them.

Sam is leaning on the rail, pensively looking out at the ocean, his back to me. "Sam," I say timidly, worried I may be intruding after all.

He doesn't turn. "Sorry about that, Ror-y. I just need a few minutes, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," I murmur. I nearly head back inside to afford Sam his privacy since he seems to prefer it to my company right now, but I just need to say this one quick thing... "But... don't just stop calling me 'Ror' because of some stupid comment Dave made, okay?"

Sam turns to me, and instead of retreating, I take another hesitant step toward him. "It pissed me off that he said that about you... That douchebag in the elevator pissed me off too," he mutters.  

I nod. "I know. But you do know Dave is just an idiot. That he means no harm, right?" I say gently.

Sam glares at me a moment and then nods slowly, just once. "I almost hit him," he says, so quietly I can only just hear him.

"But you didn't," I remind him.

Sam takes a deep breath. "But I wanted to... I'm no different than him."

"Than who?"

Sam glares at me. The truth is it doesn't matter who he means. His father, Robin, they're all the same. Assholes who make themselves feel more powerful by hurting other, more vulnerable people.

"Sam you're nothing like him. So you got pissed off and wanted to hit someone? That happens to everyone. You didn't do it."

"But, I wanted to," he repeats.

I cover the rest of the space that separates us. I reach up and caress his jaw, feeling the soft scratch of his stubble, and after another moment he visibly calms. "You didn't," I say again. "Violence is a choice. Like survival, remember? Everyone has those impulses when they get angry, just like we have the impulse to give up when we're, you know, hurting. You made the right choice, Sam. You're a good man. Nothing like him," I assure him intently. "I know the difference, Sam, trust me," I add more softly. I hate that he's beating himself up over something he stopped himself from doing.

He holds my hand harder against his cheek and turns into my touch, planting a soft kiss on my palm. His other hand skims the line of my jaw, his fingers combing through my beach-messed hair. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

I shake my head. "Don't apologize to me. You didn't do anything to me. You were just being protective, and honestly, I'm grateful. For a long time I needed that, and I didn't have it. But Dave isn't a threat to either of us, you know that."

Sam nods. "I know. You're right. Of course you're right."

"It's my fault. For dumping all my crap on you earlier. It rattled you, and I'm sorry. I'm so used to it that I forget how crazy it all was and-"

"Stop it, Ror. Never be sorry for talking to me. I want you to talk to me," he insists, his hand still running tenderly through my hair as he gazes intently down at me. God, he's beautiful. His midnight blues glow with emotion, his lips slightly parted. It's impossible for me to keep my focus; he's just too gorgeous for his own good. Or mine.

"And I want you... to kiss me," I whisper.

And he does.

My God, he does. It's not a sweet, gentle kiss. It's hungry - all-consuming. It's like he's been holding back all along, and now some hold has been broken. His hands sift through my hair, down my neck and around my back, his thumbs caressing my bare midriff.

His tongue pushes its way into my mouth and I welcome it, brazenly stroking it with my own. Our lips crash together in a desperate union, each trying to steal a piece of the other, trying to leave some of ourselves behind. I tug on his soft, thick hair, loving the feel of my fingers running through the silky locks. Sam groans in response - he loves it too.

He grabs the backs of my thighs and lifts me, perfectly aligning our bodies as he guides my legs around him. I lock my ankles at the small of his back, kissing him back with equal fervor.

I'm somewhat aware we're moving through the suite. Sam swings the bedroom door open so hard it slams against the opposite wall. But I have no fear, I'm equally as impatient right now. I brace myself to be thrown onto the bed, but Sam doesn't do that. Instead, he gently lays me down on my back, completely out of synch with the intensity of the way he kisses me. I grasp blindly for the hem of his tank top to yank it over his head, and he pulls back to assist me.

"You sure about this, Ror?" he asks through panting breaths.

I nod adamantly. I've never been so sure of anything in my life. My body is on fire, the desire that's simmered from the first touch of our lips threatening to combust in an inferno of need for something I'm not sure I fully grasp.

"You know what to say if you change your mind?"  

I nod again.

"Say it. Say the word," he demands, his hands smoothing up my sides and over my stomach, my chest rising and falling madly with my frenzied breaths.

"Calculus."

Sam smiles approvingly, his eyes hooded and shrouded in lust. He stares down at me like I'm a delectable feast he's dying to consume, and then, as if he couldn't possibly wait a second longer, he resumes his kiss. I moan into his mouth, completely unabashed. His lips sweep across my jaw and start working their way down the delicate skin of my neck. "Oh, God," I exhale.

I feel his grin against my skin. "Just so you know," he breathes right into my ear, "'stop', 'no', or any other variant will also work. Any time, no matter what. Okay, baby?"

I sigh amorously. Only for me would it be such an incredible turn-on to be reminded that I can tell him to stop. But I have absolutely no intention of doing that. And that endearment. Baby. He's never called me that before. No one has. And, God, do I want to be his baby.

Sam starts kissing across my collarbone, his hands roving over my breasts, molding - exploring. "I think you wore this bathing suit to torment me," he rasps, reaching around back to pull on the knot. "To punish me for stopping it last night."

I laugh as he tosses the bandeau top over the side of the bed. His lips whisper sweet kisses down my sternum and between my breasts before he takes one in his mouth and lightly sucks. My head rolls back, my eyes close, and my back arches all on its own, thrusting my chest toward his mouth. I have no control over the moan that rips from my lips.

This never felt good when Robin did it. When he forced me to let him do it. But, God, does it feel incredible now. Like my breasts have some secret connection wired right to the core of me. I open my eyes to find Sam watching me intently, silently cataloging my every reaction. His hand slips down, down, and slides between my thighs.

I let out a sharp gasp. Oh, God.

My hips move mindlessly in rhythm with his hand, and I'm barely even aware when he undoes my fly. And then his hand is gone and I whimper my complaint at the loss. Sam's lips stretch into a pleased smirk as he slowly - torturously - slips my shorts off until I'm naked except for my swimsuit bottoms.

"So beautiful," Sam breathes as his gaze rakes my body. He presses his lips to my stomach, brushing a trail from hip to hip and down the top of my scar.

Holy shit.

"You have no idea how much I've thought about this, baby." Sam's hot breath against my skin is somehow just as erotic as his touch.

"God, Sam. Please," I beg, and I'm not sure for what. I'm practically writhing, a torrent of sensation concentrated between my legs, where I've never wanted anyone, but where I now want Sam desperately. I ache in a way I've never experienced, and I know Sam can fix it, can give me what I need, even though I don't exactly know what that is.

Sam suddenly pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. He furrows his brow in that way I love, as if he's considering something. "Rory... you've had an orgasm before, right?"

I blink at him, eyes wide, mortified.

"He ever make you come? Before it got bad, I mean? You ever make yourself come?" His tone is soft and gentle, trying not to embarrass me, but I'm afraid right now that is impossible.

"I... I'm not sure."

Sam just stares a beat before I detect what is undoubtedly a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Oh, baby, if you're not sure, then you haven't. Trust me," he informs me.

I don't know what to say, but before I can try and think up a response, Sam's lips are back on mine. He kisses me hungrily with renewed urgency. He drags his lips back down my neck, licking and sucking as he goes, and peels my bathing suit bottoms down my legs.

He looks me up and down. "Fucking beautiful," he growls appreciatively. He shoves his board shorts down and tosses them with the rest of our discarded clothing. Now it's my turn to check him out, and God, he's the beautiful one. He's all sun-kissed rippling muscles, and they're as tense with desire as mine are.

Every inch of him is unfathomably perfect. I want him inside me. I've never wanted that. Ever. And, I realize, he's bigger than Robin, both in length and girth. I know how much that would piss Robin off to know, and the thought pleases me deeply. I let out a giggle before I can stop myself and Sam pauses his reverent kissing of my neck and collarbone.

"You know, baby girl, laughter isn't exactly what a guy wants to hear when a girl sees him naked for the first time," he teases.

I laugh again. "I'm sorry..." This is all so surreal for me. Sex was always something that was done to me, not something I did with someone.

"What is it, Ror? Come on, we're naked - it's definitely not time to get all shy on me," he urges, and I laugh again.

Is there always this much laughter during foreplay? Because there definitely should be. It's putting me infinitely at ease. Reminding me who I'm here with - one of my very best friends, whose company is everything, and who I want to connect with in the deepest way possible. It reminds me how much I've already confided in him - that I can tell him anything. So I do. "It's just that... you're... so much bigger than him," I explain, not sure if what I'm saying is even appropriate.

Sam's eyes widen in surprise, and then he grins wickedly. "Now that is exactly what a man wants to hear," he murmurs, and resumes the work of his mouth with a new determination - perhaps a reward for my honesty.

He kisses his way down between my breasts, dipping his tongue into my navel, and I moan again. He traces his lips down my scar. "You're fucking perfect," he says huskily, his mouth moving to the inside of my thighs. His stubble scratches softly against my sensitive skin, and my legs pull together toward the novel sensation. I'm idly thankful I waxed for this vacation.

"Sam..." His name comes out as a plea, and again, I'm sure he knows what I need far better than I do.

"You trust me, baby?" he asks, looking up at me from between my legs.

I nod desperately, and Sam kisses me there. A hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss.

"Sam!" I cry out, and he explores me in earnest until my moans fill the room in a carnal song I can hardly believe is my own.

He concentrates his tongue in one sensitive spot before slowly pushing two fingers inside me, circling them around and around until I grind my hips against him, out of my mind with need.

"Fuck, Ror, you are so fucking sweet," he growls against me.

I shoot off like a rocket, my head thrown back and mouth open, mind-numbing pleasure radiating from where he touches me throughout my entire body. I arch my back mindlessly and shamelessly moan while Sam's motion slows, but doesn't stop. I gasp for air as if I've just run a marathon. Holy fuck, is that what I've been missing?

Now I know what he meant. You can't be unsure about that.

I feel the absence of his mouth, and then his fingers, and when my eyes finally open, Sam is hovering over me, gazing down at me with his weight on his elbow, our bodies aligned. His fingers graze tenderly over my stomach.

"Hi," I finally manage.

Sam offers me a smug grin. I don't blame him. He has every right to be smug after what he just did to me. "Hi," he replies before feverishly taking my mouth. His body comes down over mine and I feel his arousal press against me. I wrap my legs around him and pull him harder against me and Sam groans, but pulls away as if he's still hesitant.

"We can wait, Ror. I can do that again, if you like," he offers with a cocky smirk.

Oh, God would I like him to do that again. And again. But no, it's not enough right now, not by a long shot. "No, Sam. I want you." I grind my hips against his.

He lets out an amorous grunt and his head flies back. "Fuck." But when his eyes come back to mine, he's concerned, like he's waging some internal war.

But I don't want his concern - not right now. "Sam, if I didn't want to be here with you, I wouldn't be here with you, okay?" I insist. I can see him considering me, feel him weighing his desire against his concern over my past. I run my hand over his sharp jaw, imploring him. "Please, I need you, Sam. Inside me."

His eyes slam closed. "God, Ror, if you're going to say things like that, I'm barely going to make it inside you, baby," he growls.

"Well then don't make me ask again. Are you really going to make me beg you after last night? You know I have more bathing suits like that one to torture you with," I tease, though I most certainly do not. But I can always borrow one from Carl.

Sam jumps off the bed and my eyes follow him to the drawer in the nightstand. He retrieves a condom packet.  

It doesn't make sense, but I don't want him to wear one. I don't want anything between us. I need him to wash away every time Robin took me without my permission and, irrationally, I'm not sure I'd feel the same way if he did it with a condom on.

"I'm on the pill," I murmur. Sam freezes, and eyes me warily. "And they, um, tested me in the hospital. After... you know. I've never been with anyone else."

"I trust you, Rory," he replies. "And just so you know, I've never not worn a condom. Not once."

I nod. When he doesn't make a move, I grab the packet out of his hand and toss it to the floor. Fire flashes in his eyes and he's immediately back on top of me, kissing me fervently.

He positions himself, and though I know it isn't true, part of me feels like it's my first time. It is the first time I've ever invited this, the first time I've ever asked a man to take me this way, and it's a detail that is very meaningful to me. Sam pulls his face away just enough to meet my eyes, and I see a question in his gaze. He's asking my permission one more time. I give it wordlessly.

I love you.

I want to say the words, but I know I can't. I probably never will. I have no business even thinking them.

Sam watches me intently as he slowly enters me. I sigh at the instant jolt of pleasure, the incredible sensation of being filled by him. I was a little nervous it would be painful. Sam is significantly better endowed than Robin, but I understand now it always hurt with Robin because that was what he wanted.

Sam continues to push forward and I realize he still isn't even all the way inside me. He's holding back, afraid to push me too far too quickly. He's watching for my every reaction, and I lift my hips to encourage him. Sam groans deep in his throat as he slides home. Figuratively, and somehow, also literally, because with him inside me, it feels as if this is where he is supposed to be. Home.

He stops to let me acclimate to his welcome invasion. "You okay, baby?" he asks hoarsely.

I lift my hips again, needing more. "God, yes, Sam. Please, move," I beg.

Sam tentatively rears back, and surges again. We moan together. It feels incredible. I never knew it could feel like this and I relish it. Being as connected to him physically as I feel emotionally. Even if I know it's mostly one sided, I do know he cares for me. And right now, I'll take what I can get from him. I know how screwed up I am and I know this is likely the closest I'll ever get to real love.

Sam begins a rhythm, equally sweet and possessive, and I tentatively raise my hips to meet his thrusts. He kisses me fiercely, our tongues tangling together, passion emanating from everywhere we connect. I tighten my thighs around him. He's so deep, and I can't help but think I want to stay this way forever.

"You feel so fucking good, Ror. So tight, baby. Fucking God." His rhythm picks up and he starts to surrender his control. And that's exactly what I want. Sam as lost to me as I am to him.

I moan his name, my hands delving into his hair, tugging roughly. Vaguely I worry I might hurt him, but I'm not in control right now. I have completely submitted to him and my own body, which somehow knows exactly what to do.

My eyes close as I succumb to the sensations. To the grind of his hips, the heat of his mouth, the blanket of his weight, the stretch of him filling me. It's a heady combination and I bask in it.

"Look at me, baby," Sam rasps. God I love his voice like this. I love that I've made it like this.

My eyes snap open to collide with enrapturing midnight blues, glazed with emotion and laced with lust, just inches from my own, our faces so close our noses brush with each rock of our hips.

Robin never looked at me like this. I never looked at him either. His face was always buried in my neck or chest, my eyes clenched shut, my mind decidedly elsewhere as it would inevitably slip away to some distant memory, in some far off time and place. Except for that last time, of course, when he intently watched and relished every bit of my helplessness and terror, until I wondered whether or not I'd survive, and began to consider that, perhaps, I wished I didn't.

But with Sam I'm completely present. And I know he's right here with me, savoring this moment.

We gasp together, our breaths mixing intimately in a whirlwind of passion, his exhales the only air I breathe. I am living on Sam. With the emotion in his gaze, I pretend he could love me, too. That this is more than just sex to him. Because I'm making love, and it's the first time I've ever done that.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Rory," Sam breathes between his sexy groans and grunts. And repeated muttered expletives.

Sharp waves of pleasure seize me with his every thrust as my climax starts to build. Even after the magic of his mouth, the sensation is utterly unfathomable. It feels different somehow. Stronger, deeper. But I'm not sure it will happen again, especially so soon. I don't care either way, I realize. I'm in heaven regardless, and my chest swells with adoration for this man who is absolutely everywhere. On top of me, impaling me, around me, but most importantly, inside my heart, positively owning it.

"Baby..."

"Oh my God, Sam..." And it's settled. I don't know how I ever even doubted him. Because I'm going to come again. I need to. It's almost painful how badly I need to. But it's a beautiful kind of pain, one that precedes only the most mind-blowing pleasure, and I moan his name, along with other carnal sounds I can't even describe. But I have no way of helping it. I'm lost to him in every possible way.

Sam kisses me again, ardently, deliciously, and he shifts, his hands sliding under my backside and lifting me. The angle changes and he dives impossibly deeper inside me.

It's all I can take.

I cry out what is meant to be his name, but sounds more like the mating call of some unnamed animal, as I explode around him, exponentially more intensely than before. My eyes flutter closed and my limbs seize, holding him to me like a vise, my nails unconsciously raking his back. I scream in delirium, time suspending as I ride each wave of ecstasy.

"Fuck! Rory," Sam groans, his voice a breathy rumble. He thrusts into me just twice more, hard and fast, before following me into oblivion.

When I return back to earth, Sam is dead weight on top of me, both of us panting like animals. He nuzzles my shoulder softly as I trace the lines of his back.

Sam's gently pulls out of me and rolls onto his back, taking me with him so I lay on him like a blanket, my face tucked into the nook of his neck. I inhale deeply, relishing the scent I've become so familiar with, now mixed with salt from the ocean and sweat. Sam strokes my back lightly with the tips of his fingers, and I shiver as chills break out on my skin.

"You alright, Ror?" he asks softly. I nod against his skin, eyes still closed, still half in another world - one of nothing but pleasure and love and Sam.

"Mmmm," is all I can come up with.

Sam chuckles and kisses my hair. "Well, that makes two of us, baby."

I sigh contently. "You've never called me that before."

"Called you what?" he asks. I lift my head just enough to look at him, not wanting to pull my body off of him any more than I have to - not sure if and when I'll have the opportunity to be so close to him again.

"Baby," I remind him.

Sam's brow furrows, like he didn't realize he even said it, and he said it plenty. "Hmm, I guess I did call you that. I don't know what you're doing to me, Ror. Honestly I've never called a girl a pet name in my life," he chuckles lightly.

"I liked it," I admit timidly.

Sam grins and his huge palm spreads around the back of my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. I sigh again. I scoot down and over just a little so he doesn't have to bear all of my weight, laying half on his chest, our legs intertwined, his fingers ghosting up and down my back.  

I could stay like this forever.

The thought is bittersweet. I remind myself that this is all temporary. Because even if he could return my feelings, it wouldn't be right. What kind of person would I be if I allowed the man I loved to tie himself to such a broken mess?

All because of Robin.

I wish with all my heart that I could go back in time. That I could get back what Robin took from me. That Sam could have been my first. All this time I had no idea sex could be like that - so satisfying, both physically and emotionally. I wonder idly if Sam knows how significant this was for me. My hate for Robin suddenly consumes everything, bubbling up from the marrow of my bones.

"Oh, baby, no," Sam whispers, his knuckles brushing away liquid regret. "What's wrong?" His anxiety is palpable, and I suspect he thinks my regret is about him and what we just did.

I shake my head, denying his worry. "I'm fine," I mutter.

Sam rolls to his side, guiding me to face him. He slips an arm under my neck, and the other caresses my face, his thumb banishing another rogue tear. My leg bends between his, and in this position, with our eyes level and barely inches apart, I can't hide from him.

"Please tell me what I did," he pleads.

My eyes widen in horror. He thinks he's done something to cause my tears, and my stomach rolls with his unearned guilt. But how can I tell a man I wish he was the one who'd taken my virginity? How can I tell him I want to erase all memories of Robin and replace the memory of my first time with today. I don't know much about men other than the monster who broke me, but I'm quite sure they generally freak out at the responsibility of taking a girl's virginity, even if only figuratively.

"Nothin', Sam. I mean it. It's just..." I trail off.

It's just what? It's just, do you mind if I pretend you were my first?

"It's not you, I was just thinkin' about Robin..."

Sam blanches, and I realize that didn't come out right.

"I mean... I was just thinkin' that this is what my first time should have been like, that's all."  

Sam's entire body relaxes beside me. "Nothing he did was the way things should have been for you, Ror. I wish you never had to go through any of that," he says intently.

I nod. Me too.

"I wish it could've been me." He adds more quietly, "you have no idea how much."

I blink at him. "Really?"

Sam nods. "Really."

My brows pinch together. Awe for this man strikes me dumbfounded. "I didn't know guys like you existed."

He laughs. "It's not me, Ror. I told you, you're the one doing this to me. Trust me, normally just the thought of sleeping with a virgin..." he trails off with a dramatic shudder and I giggle.

But he sobers quickly, and I instantly regret bringing up Robin at all. "I wish I could undo what he did," he breathes.

"It was kind of a first for me," I say softly. "I mean, you know, consensually. I've never... I..." I don't know how to explain it without revealing my feelings for him so I just trail off pathetically.

Sam presses a quick kiss to my lips. "I know, baby," he says gently. His brow furrows as if he's considering something. "You know, if you want to consider this your first time, I'm okay with that," he says meaningfully, and I blink at him, astonished at his compassion for me and my past.

I kiss him.

I kiss him hard. His free hand holds my face to his as I silently marvel at how lucky I am to have him in my life. Even if we end up just being friends, even if this "something more" can never really be what I wish it could be.

I can't believe how this day has unfolded. I awoke in a shroud of humiliation and rejection, and now, I lie here completely naked and blissfully sated, gazing into the midnight blues that have had such an unfathomable on my life in such a short time. Sam rolls onto his back, pulling me back to his side and I rest my head on his chest.

Exhaustion expands my ribcage and climbs from my throat in a wild yawn. I never knew a couple of orgasms could wipe me out like this. Of course, why would I, since apparently I'd never had one before.

"You sure swear a lot during... you know," I say through another yawn.

Sam frowns. "Do I?" His lips quirk up into a small smirk. "You know, you can say 'sex', you don't have to be embarrassed, baby. Especially since we're still naked."

I shove at his chest and let out a laugh.

"Well, do you want to know what you sound like during sex?" he teases.

"God, no!" We both laugh and I cover his mouth with my hand, but he nips at it playfully.

Sam sighs. "You sound - and look - like every fucking fantasy I've ever had," he admits.

I doubt it, but it's still nice to hear. "Is it always like that?" I ask quietly. I just can't believe that's what I've been missing out on. That it's what everyone experiences. That mind-blowing, life-changing passion. Why would anyone do anything else?

"No."

I look up at him, bemused.

"It's never like that, Ror," he says meaningfully, and though I don't know his exact meaning, I let myself believe I'm special to him. That even though I know he's done what we just did many times and with many different girls, that this time was special to him.

I cuddle into his side and his arms tighten around me. I stifle another yawn, sinking slowly into my exhaustion. My eyes lose their battle, and they drown in sleep.