Chapter 16

Samson

I held Blair against my chest and lay back on the pillows on our shared bed, my eyes wide open, picking out the imperfections in the wooden ceiling, the knots in planks or the curls of varnish peeling from the grain.

She’d stopped crying a half hour ago but she still hadn’t spoken. That was fine.

I’d hold her for as long as she needed me to.

What have you become, dude? You’ll hold her? You’ll care for her? You don’t do this type of shit. I shut down the thought pattern – this moment wasn’t about me. Shit, the entire weekend was about her and what she needed to do to free herself from Fruit Loops down the hall.

I stroked circles on the skin at her neck, drawing them out slowly.

She breathed evenly, hiccupped once, then sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “I know this isn’t want I’m paying you for.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied. “This isn’t about money. This is real life ass shit.”

“Real life ass shit,” she said, and her voice actually tingled – a hint of mirth. “That’s the best way to put it, yeah.”

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you swearing your little head off down in the garage earlier. Better not play coy with me, now,” I said and prodded her in the ribs.

She choked out a laugh, then struggled upright, placing one hand on my chest to do it. Blair’s eyes were red-rimmed, her pupils constricted to pinpricks. “You heard what happened, didn’t you?” It came out matter-of-fact.

“No bullshit. Yeah, I heard. I’m glad she told you.”

“She didn’t have much of a choice. I found the picture.” She fished it out of her pocket and handed it over to me. “That’s my dad. My real dad. And he’s dead.”

“Christ,” I said and sat up, too. “I’m sorry. I can imagine how you feel.” And I could. I’d never known my father either. What if I’d found out he was closer than I thought, real, tangible, and that my childhood could’ve been more than a shit show with auntie dearest?

I’d be fucking fuming. I’d rage. And it’d mess me up good.

“Why would she do this?” Blair asked, then shook out her dark, sleek hair. “No, I know why she did it. She’s selfish.”

“Seems like it to me,” I said. “She reminds me of my aunt now more than ever. Bitch was just as crazy. Deranged. Only looking out for number one.” Which begged the question, why did Blair care what her mother thought? Was it the money? How could it be when she was willing to use whatever she had left to start fresh and no longer rely on her mother?

She pinched the bridge of that delicate nose. “I need to regroup. This is – I guess it doesn’t change much.”

“It doesn’t.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Blair replied. “I always knew my mother was selfish, that she would do what was best for her. It’s the whole reason I’m in Harvard in the first place.”

“But you’re not going to be for much longer,” I said. Why doesn’t she just stand up to her? Tell her that it’s done. What would it take for her to realize that? “Soon, you’ll be free of Harvard and all the crap.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She squared her shoulders. “That’s right. I’m going to do my own thing. Be the artist I’ve always wanted to be. I won’t let this stop me or put a dent in the plan. Are you still on board?”

Was I? The tenderness that had washed over me at the sight of her crying threatened every piece of me. It was one thing to fuck a woman, to chase her and enjoy the game to work off the boredom, but this?

The swirling mess in my lower abdomen made me want to punch a brick wall. And the thought of never seeing her after this weekend made it worse. So much fucking worse. I didn’t have to put myself through this shit.

I wasn’t actually an escort. Just some trickster millionaire business owner.

You’re one to judge her mother. She lied and so have you. You’re not an escort. You’re not even going to accept her money when this is over. Would she trust you if she found out?

“Samson?” Blair asked.

“Of course,” I replied. “I’m happy to continue with this. Whatever helps you out.”

She nodded once, a swift bob of her chin, up and down. “Good. That’s settled then. Now, in light of recent events, I’d like to suggest that we keep our relationship strictly professional.”

I studied her, the side of her face, smooth and dry now, and the hollow of her neck, which I’d kissed earlier.

“Professional,” I said.

“No sex.”

“I gathered that was where you were going,” I replied. And quite frankly, fuck that. “Why’s that necessary? We’ve already crossed that boundary, Blair. Do you really think it will be that easy to turn back?”

Her lips worked, and I pictured them around my cock. An involuntary image that made me twitch. She hadn’t sucked me yet. Christ, what I’d give to eat her while she did the job. But, apparently, that wasn’t on the cards for her, anymore.

“You’re going to let what happened with your mother affect your private life,” I said.

“I – it’s not that,” she said and cleared her throat. The professionalism slipped from her, and she struggled with it, wrestled it back onto her face. “I’ve already gotten too involved with you. Things are too complicated. This weekend was supposed to be simple. No sex. Just the lies, and afterward, we go our separate ways. After I’ve paid you, of course.”

I devoured her with my eyes, soaked up her determination, broken only by the tremble of her lower lip.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” I said. “You can relax, Blair. You can be free with me. You’re allowed to enjoy this weekend.”

She gulped. “I’m not here to enjoy it. I haven’t enjoyed Christmas in years. Ha. Listen to me, I’m so pathetic, right? Poor little rich girl. You grew up with your aunt, and I’m here whining about how I’ve got problems with my mother. Pathetic.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” I said and caught her wrist. I turned it over, then ran my finger down the inside of her forearm, drawing goosebumps from her skin.

“I want this to be easy. It can’t be easy if we’re getting involved in that way.” But she’d already begun trembling, and she didn’t pull away.

“I’ll do what you want me to,” I said. In every fucking way. “But you have to be sure first.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re sure you don’t want this –” I clamped my hand down on the back of her neck and brought her lips to mine, placed that sweet pressure that would surely buckle her, maybe me, too. It lasted several seconds, and I drew a breathless moan from her, long and sweet.

Her moans were candy. They tasted good to me, smelled good. If I could’ve bottled them, I’d have injected them into my fucking blood stream or snorted them like the drug they were but they were illusive.

Every noise trapped us both in the moment.

Finally, I broke away and she gave a soft, fluttering sigh of regret.

“If you’re sure you don’t want that, I’ll never do it again. Never.” And I meant it. I wasn’t a man who looked back on decisions with regret. Except, this decision would fucking suck hairy ball sack. “But if there’s even a hint of doubt, you’ll tell me now, Blair. Because whether you want to believe it or not, you’re mine.”

“I’m – wh-what?” She inhaled, clenched her fists in her lap. “I’m what?” she repeated, strong this time. “Yours? I’m not a possession. You told my mother so.”

“There’s a difference between a possession and a piece.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck, that came out wrong.” I chuckled. Usually, I didn’t struggle with words. I wasn’t exactly a fucking public speaker but business granted me some eloquence.

“A piece of what? Ass?” she asked, and those lips, still wet with my kiss, twitched upward at the corners. “I’m a piece of ass?”

“No.” I took her hand, ran my finger across her knuckles. What are you doing, asshole? What the fuck are you doing? No emotional involvement! Don’t fucking do it. “A piece of me.”

She blinked, and the sly smile slid out of sight.

“You’re mine because I’m mine,” I said. “Does that make sense?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Look, haven’t you ever thought that we’re part of something bigger than all this?” I asked. “I’m not talking God or religion. I’m talking the fucking fabric of the Universe or whatever. We’re all energy. We’re all part of each other. But some parts are more connected than others.”

Blair squeezed my thigh, just above the knee but didn’t speak.

“We’re that connection. We’re something more. You’re mine.”

She dragged her teeth across her bottom lip, and ate into me with those hazel eyes. “I’m yours,” she said.

“That’s right.” I cupped her cheek, dwarfed it in my massive hand, and stroked strands of hair out of the way. “Make your decision. No regrets.”

Blair dropped her gaze to the picture still in her lap.

My heart did a gymnastic flip. She’s going to tell you to fuck off with all your bullshit energy stories. All those late night Ancient Alien shows are getting to you, douchebag.

She slipped her feet off the bed, got up, and walked to the bedside table. She put the picture down there, then turned back to me. “I’m scared,” she said.

I held out my hand.

Blair took it and crawled onto the bed again. The right side of her robe slipped down to reveal a slender, pale shoulder. I ran my finger over it and up, then across her collar bone.

“You have no reason to be afraid.” I lifted the finger and pressed it to her lips.

She kissed it, softly. “I’m not afraid because of you,” she said. “I’m afraid because of me. Make me forget.”

I dragged my finger downward, to the belt at her waist and tugged it loose. She was naked underneath, her bare skin visible between the folds – creamy, supple, exactly what I needed. What I craved.

My dick hardened – desire coursed through my veins, and my core tightened up. Heat spread through my abdomen.

“Samson, please.”

She didn’t have to ask me twice.