“FUCK. ME,” SAM moaned when I mounted him just as he slid behind the wheel of his Jeep.
“If you insist,” I mumbled, crushing my mouth over his; smoke still lingered on his lips.
“Levee,” he warned as I dropped a hand to his zipper. Grabbing my wrist, he attempted to stop me, but I retaliated by gliding my hips over his stiffening dick. “Shiiiiit.” He gave the fight up and kissed me, thrusting a hand into my hair to use it for leverage.
With a gentle tug, he turned my head and latched onto my neck—nipping and sucking his way up to my ear. The bite of his hand in my hair sent blood rushing to my clit while his breath against my ear forced chills down my spine.
“Come back to my place. It’s closer than yours.”
“Okay,” I answered without a single second of hesitation. I’d go wherever he wanted just as long as he was going too.
Shocked, he held my gaze. “Are you allowed to do that?”
“I’m a big girl, Sam. I’m allowed to do whatever—or whoever—I want.” I went back in for another kiss, but Sam lifted me off his lap and deposited me onto the passenger’s seat.
“Put your seat belt on,” he growled, adjusting his pants.
Sam’s Jeep was exactly what I would have expected from him. It was older but in perfect condition. There were no windows or doors to shield us from the sure-to-be freezing wind, but the idea of freedom was more than worth the price. A loud beat from his speakers filled the air the second he started the engine.
“Sorry.” He turned it down as he slammed the five-speed into reverse. Tossing his arm around the back of my seat, he zipped us out of the parking spot and onto the streets of San Francisco.
With my hand on his thigh and the wind whipping through my hair, Sam navigated us back to his place. I was going to look like a shivering, matted poodle by the time we got there, but I couldn’t have cared less. Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and smiled to myself. I didn’t ever want to leave that moment. And that was the first time in as long as I could remember when I could honestly say that.
Something happened when I was with Sam.
I didn’t know what that something was, but it happened all the same.
He wasn’t a magical fix. I knew that the free fall was still waiting for me at the end of the night. But I didn’t feel like I was plummeting when I was with him.
“What are you smiling about?” Sam asked when we pulled up to a red stoplight. His hand sifted through my hair then gently wrapped around the back of my neck.
Like a kitten, I purred, leaning into his touch. “Mmm, the way I feel right now.” I opened my eyes to find him watching me with a content grin.
“You’re beautiful,” was all he said before the light turned green and we were off again.
Being told I was beautiful wasn’t an anomaly.
It was Sam though.
That was everything.
Less than a minute later, Sam pulled up to a gorgeous two-story brick house complete with a wraparound porch that almost made me moan. It was so quaint and homey that I instantly felt drawn inside.
“Put your gooey eyes away. This is my mom’s place. I live in the basement.”
“Oh. You live with your…mom?” I’d done my best not to sound disappointed, but judging by the sound of his laugh, I’d failed miserably.
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
“No. I mean… I just.” I stumbled over my words. It wasn’t a problem. Well, not totally. It just wasn’t what I expected. And suddenly, in that moment, I realized exactly how much I didn’t know about Sam. “I thought…”
I continued to ramble until he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine. He didn’t take it any deeper, and I was very aware of his shoulders shaking in amusement.
“Chill, Levee. I’m just giving you shit. It’s my house. I bought it two years ago and have been fixing it up ever since. Rest assured, my mom has her own place across town.”
I breathed an audible sigh of relief then squeaked, “It’s a pretty house.”
“It is. But it’s still a work in progress, and I can’t promise how safe my handiwork is, so don’t step on the cracks or the whole floor might cave in.” He unbuckled himself and climbed out.
“Uhhh,” I stammered as I got out, meeting him at the hood. “Seriously?”
He shook his head and looped an arm around my waist. “Why are you nervous?”
“What? I’m not.” I swayed in his arms with a herd of butterflies stampeding in my stomach.
“You haven’t called me on my shit once since you got in my car. You’re nervous. Now tell me why.”
“I’m not—” I started, but he twisted his lips, unconvinced.
“You want me to take you home?”
“No!”
He dropped his hand to my ass. “Then tell me what’s got you so distracted.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. How the hell did I answer that?
You, Sam! You have me distracted. I’m nervous because I can’t say the wrong thing again. Not if I want you back. And, God, do I want you back.
I kept that to myself.
After backing me up, he pinned me against the hood with his body. “Levee,” he prompted.
“I have crabs!” I blurted out when the truth got lodged in my throat. “I didn’t want to tell you, but since we had sex, it’s only a matter of time before those critters get you too.”
I didn’t expect him to believe my joke, but I figured he’d at least laugh. Instead, he groaned, sliding a hand under my shirt and over my breasts—his rough fingers dipping inside my bra to tease my nipples.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
“Mmm,” I moaned. Closing my eyes, I slipped a hand down the back of his jeans—strictly for balance, of course.
I whined in complaint when he suddenly stepped away.
“Get your ass inside. I need to smoke.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not going inside my stalker’s house alone.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Should you ever really go in your stalker’s house at all?”
“Excellent point. We should definitely do it in the driveway.” I reached for the button on his jeans, but he backed out of my reach.
“Jesus, Levee.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Aren’t we supposed to be talking?”
I nervously began chewing on the inside of my mouth again.
Talking was going to suck. Sex definitely wasn’t.
But sex didn’t mean I got to keep him. Talking hopefully would.
My eyes flashed to the ground. “Yeah. You’re right.”
I heard his lighter spark to life. Then his shoes entered my field vision. Threading our fingers together, he lifted the back of my hand to graze over his dick bulging behind his denim.
I sucked in sharply as his warm breath whispered over my neck.
“I’ve never in my life wanted to lose myself inside a woman more than I do with you. In my driveway. In my bed. In my car in the middle of a hospital parking lot. Anywhere, Levee.” He draped my arm around his neck then dropped his forehead to mine. “I’ve also never wanted to make something work with a woman more than I do with you. So, if talking is what I have to do, then let’s do it. But, after all of that’s settled—and I swear to God it will be settled—we’ll get back”—he roughly tugged me against him, pointedly rolling his hips—“to this.”
I’d been wrong.
That was everything.
I immediately looked away, and I did it smiling.
Huge.
Taking my hand, Sam smoked as we walked up the short sidewalk to his front door. While he fumbled with his keys, my eyes were drawn to two antique white doors that had been transformed into a porch swing.
I lifted our joined hands to point. “Did you make that?”
He tossed me a proud, lopsided grin. “If it’s in this house, I made it.”
“That’s amazing. I can’t imagine being that talented.”
He barked a laugh as he pushed his door open. “Says the woman with a mantel full of Grammys.”
“Oh, shut up. I meant talented with my hands, smartass.” I pinched his nipple.
“Ow! Shit!” he complained before reaching out to pinch mine in retaliation. His was definitely gentler, and I might have secretly wished that he had done it again. Repeatedly.
He didn’t though. He dropped his hand and flipped the lights on.
The outside of his house was amazing, but it didn’t do justice to the inside in the least. Dark hardwood floors covered the expanse of the den, and a rugged, brown leather sectional butted up against the wall, facing a flat-screen mounted above a stone fireplace. The whole area was open, and his galley kitchen sat in the back with only a granite-top bar dividing the rooms. The house appeared to be older from the curb, but inside, it was as modern as it could get.
Sam’s house definitely wasn’t the bachelor pad I’d expected. It was unnaturally clean. I had a full-time maid and his place made mine look like a stable.
What single guy keeps a house this neat?
I gasped. “Oh my God, you’re married!”
“Shh! You’ll wake up my wife,” he replied, touching his lips to my temple. “Don’t worry. She’s okay with you being here. You were on the top of my celebrity sexception list.”
A laugh escaped my throat. He waggled his eyebrows as he moved to the small table next to the door. After flipping through the mail, he extended an envelope in my direction.
“Text my address to Devon. I don’t need the SWAT team breaking down my door when he realizes I didn’t take you back to your place.”
He had a point. And, given my situation, Henry would probably stroke out too.
Upon retrieving my phone from my back pocket, I sent a message to Henry and asked him to pass the word along to Devon as well. His reply pinged in my hand, but I didn’t bother reading it before powering my phone down.
“You want a beer?” Sam asked, bypassing the fridge and heading to a sliding glass door off the back of his kitchen.
“Sure.”
“Okay. Be right back.” He disappeared out the door.
Less than a moment later, a black lab came barreling in.
“Sampson!” Sam yelled behind him.
I immediately backed away. He didn’t exactly look ferocious, but I’d become too fond of my legs to chance having them gnawed off.
“Sit,” Sam ordered, appearing in doorway with four beers cradled against his chest.
The dog skidded to a halt then dropped to his hind end less than an inch away from me. His tail thumped against the hardwood as he eagerly stared up at me.
“You have a dog?”
“Very astute observation. Levee, meet Sampson,” he laughed, twisting the tops off two domestic beers.
“Your dog’s name is Sampson?”
“Yep,” he said before tipping the beer to his lips and offering one in my direction.
“Your name is Sam and you named your dog Sampson. That’s a bit egotistical, don’t ya think?”
“Well, the guy who does my ink wouldn’t give us matching tattoos. I was really limited in my narcissistic options.”
“Right.” I reached down to scratch behind Sampson’s ears.
“I got him at the pound a few years back. I saw the name tag on his kennel and took it as a sign.” He whistled and Sampson rushed to his side. Tilting his beer toward the couch to signal for me to sit down, he asked, “You a dog person?”
Following his unspoken order, I settled on the end of the couch, slipping my heels off so I could tuck a leg underneath me. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted a dog, but by the time I could afford to take care of one, my life was chaos. I travel way too much.”
“Gotcha,” he said, sitting beside me on the couch.
With a snap and a point from Sam, Sampson lumbered over to a dog bed in the corner, grunting before flopping down.
We both stayed silent, awkwardly drinking our beers. Small talk was officially over, but it seemed Sam wasn’t any more excited to start the heavy conversation than I was.
“You hungry?” he asked as I nervously polished my beer off.
“I’m good, thanks.”
He nodded and went back to staring into space. “Sooo…” he drawled but didn’t say anything else.
Without looking at him, I broke the silence. “Are you positive that we can’t just start with sex?”
Chuckling, he dropped his head back against the couch and turned to look at me. I met his gaze with a grin, hoping he was about to give in. Instead, his smile fell and his eyes softened.
“I’m sorry I stormed out the way I did, but I really can’t apologize for telling Devon. Levee, I have a really fucked-up past, and it terrifies me to start something with someone like you.”
Someone like you.
I swallowed hard, trying not to flinch from the sting of his words. “Oh.” I scooted to the edge of couch and slid my shoes back on.
He caught my elbow before I had the chance to push to my feet. “Hear me out. Please.”
“Yeah, of course. I was just gonna grab another beer.” I smiled tightly, but he didn’t release my arm.
With one hand, he grabbed the neck of my empty beer between two fingers and replaced it with his half-full one. “Stop and listen. That’s all I’m asking.”
A nod was my only response.
“My fondest memories from when I was a kid are when I was with my dad. I remember him spending hours running around with Anne and me in the backyard. He was so fucking funny and energetic. I swear we were always laughing with him. The problem was that my mom would sit at the kitchen window crying because she knew what would follow. My dad had been diagnosed as bipolar long before he met my mom. But he had meds, and even though they weren’t a fix-all, they helped. Just like basically everyone else who struggles with the disorder, he had a hard time sticking to the medication regimen.” He scrubbed his palms over the thighs of his jeans then dragged his cigarettes from his pocket. He glanced over at me then sighed, tossing them on the wagon-wheel coffee table—his creation, no doubt.
All of my hurt disappeared as I watched something far worse appear on Sam’s face. I didn’t necessarily want to encourage his habit, but I’d have done anything to erase that pained expression.
“You want to take this to the porch swing so you can smoke?” I asked, folding my hand over his.
“Yes. But I need to stop compromising your breakup with lung cancer. So no.” His lips twitched as he intertwined our fingers. Groaning, he continued. “There were times when my dad would disappear to his workshop in our backyard for a week or more. It was a way of life, and Anne and I learned to stop asking questions. Despite all of his shit, he was a great dad.” He squeezed my hand and pointedly held my gaze as he said, “I miss him a lot.”
That does not sound good.
I’d figured the whole walk down memory lane was to set up Anne’s story. But I was quickly realizing that, unfortunately, she might not be the only stop on the ride through Sam’s self-proclaimed fucked-up past.
He ran a hand through his hair. “When I was fifteen, Dad lost his job and went into one of his typical lows. No one really paid it any attention. We were overly used to it by then. Mom used to have us deliver his dinner out to the shop. He wasn’t always as patient with her as he was with Anne and me. When he was up, Mom was the center of his universe. When he was down…he was a fucking dick.”
He lifted my hand to his mouth as I waited on pins and needles for what I prayed wouldn’t be the ending I feared he was about to give me.
“Anne was twelve and thankfully spending the night at the neighbor’s house the night I found him hanging from the rafters. I knew he was dead as soon as I opened that door. But I still frantically tried to save him.” He sucked in a deep, agonizing breath then dragged me onto his lap. Holding me as if I were the only thing anchoring him to the present. “Levee, that’s why I told Devon. I’ll never forget those seconds when I was the only one in that room, begging the universe for help to save him—help that was never going to arrive. I just couldn’t risk that I’d be alone in that room with you too. Someone else needed to know. I couldn’t be solely responsible for losing someone else. Not like that.”
Ice chilled my veins as a reality sliced through me.
Oh God.
I couldn’t let that happen either.
Sam really can’t be with someone like me.