CHAPTER 10
It was dark outside, darker yet in the truck, and still Angie felt a burst of light at the touch of her mouth to Sam’s. It felt good, it felt right…until he stopped.
He looked at her so miserably her heart melted. “It was just a simple kiss,” she said.
“It wasn’t just a damn simple kiss. Nothing with you is simple.”
A car drove by, briefly illuminating the grim lines of his face. Pride flared, and she slowly pulled back. “I see.”
“Angie… I just want you safe.”
“Yeah. You’ve said.” She turned away, and when he reached for her, she shrugged him off. “Okay, let’s try this. First, please stop acting so concerned when it comes to me.”
“What?”
“Because you’re confusing the hell out of me. I think it was the way you kissed me.”
“Oh, no. Wait a minute. You kissed me.”
“I know.” She covered her eyes. “And stop calling me, okay? Stop every damn thing when it comes to me, and then, maybe then, I’ll be able to get my head back together.” She reached for her backpack, thinking she would get out and walk home.
“Angie—”
“No. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to think, you sure as hell don’t want to feel. I don’t know why I thought…oh, never mind.” More angry at herself than him, she tried to open the door but it was locked, and then he was reaching for her, blocking her way.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she said stiffly, not facing him, trying not to feel the big, strong hands holding her in. “I should never have gotten involved with you.”
“Damn right you shouldn’t, but you did.” He swore, then whipped her around to face him, no easy feat in the cab of his truck. “You did, and you’re here, and damn you, even if you weren’t I’d be thinking about you.”
“Sam—”
“Oh no, don’t shut me up now, I’m on a roll. You want me to talk? To think? To feel? I do all those things, for you. Only for you, Angie. I can’t seem to stop.” In the next breath, his mouth covered hers.
She tried to resist, honest to God, she tried, but he nibbled, coaxed, cajoled and finally ate at her resolve with such hungry, sexy bites she gave in with a small cry of surrender.
His hands urged her closer, over him, and with shocking ease, she straddled him right there on the bench seat of his truck. The kisses went on, hotter, deeper, wetter with each passing moment, punctuated by sighs and moans of pleasure as their hands got into the action, fighting for space.
Angie’s anger vanished as heat and intense need surged through her body. He tasted good, so very good, and she was desperately hungry for him, the hunger fueled by the knowledge he felt the same about her whether he wanted to or not.
His mouth was greedy, and so were his hands. She held her breath as his fingers danced down the material of her sundress to the hem, then slowly returned, bunching up the dress as he went, using both hands now, on her bare thighs, scooting her even closer so that the very center of her slid over the vee of his jeans, and a most interesting bulge.
When she arched her hips, he let out a rough groan and filled his hands with her breasts. Humming with pleasure, she put her hands over his. “Sam, I need—”
“I know. Me, too.” He unbuttoned the bodice of her dress, unhooked her bra, and spilled her breasts into his waiting hands. Leaning forward, he used his mouth, his tongue, his teeth until she was nothing but a string of taut nerves, quivering and edgy.
She had to touch him. Her hands slid through his hair, over his shoulders, his back, beneath his T-shirt to the sleek, bare, heated skin she’d been dying to feel. “More, Sam.”
“More,” he agreed, reaching around her to open the glove compartment, shoving maps and CDs to the floor, searching… “Yes,” he breathed, and held up a condom, which she took in her fingers.
His hands were back on her bare thighs, beneath her dress now, cupping her bottom, rubbing her over his most impressive erection, and all she could do was whisper his name, begging for more. In tune to the squeaking leather beneath them and the moans and sighs of their own breath fogging up his windows, he gave it.
He slid aside her panties and used his fingers to bring her to a shuddering orgasm that hit her so fast she scared herself. When he opened his jeans, she caught her breath, stared down at him in wonder, and then taking the condom from his fingers, putting it on him herself, she impaled herself on him.
Filled to the limit, she let out a long, shuddering sigh that mingled with his quiet “oh yeah.” Then he cupped her face, brought her down for another soul-destroying kiss as he began to move.
She wanted to come again, her entire body strained and writhed for it, and she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t control her breathing, or the arching of her hips or the soft panting echoing in her ears. “Sam…”
“I know.” He caressed her belly before gliding his hands to her thighs, holding them open for his thrusts while his thumbs brushed over the core of her. She sobbed out his name. He said hers, too, in a hoarse, tight whisper before he raised his hips and thrust so high inside her she exploded on the spot. Vaguely she heard the rough groan that told her he had found his release, too, in an explosion that shook his entire body.
Gasping, she set her forehead to his, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, hanging on through the little aftershocks that rippled through her system, determined to stay this way forever. Darkness reigned, and all the windows had long ago fogged, so there was no outside, nothing but the two of them, alone, together. “Mmm.” She sighed.
“Yeah.” He waited until she lifted her face from where she’d plastered it to his neck. “I want you again,” he said. “Inside this time. In my bed.”
“Oh, yes.”
He helped her right her clothing; slowly drew her bra closed, carefully tucking a nipple back in place, running a finger over the tip as he did, eliciting a shiver.
He looked up at her, eyes aglow. “You like that.” To prove his point, he dipped his head and dragged his tongue over the hardened, aching point. “I want to taste the rest of you.”
All she could do was nod.
He slid a finger down the bunched elastic of her panties, straightening them, the pad of his thumb stroking the very center of her being as he did.
She let out a horribly needy whimper.
His eyes darkened. His thumb stroked again, and again she made the sound.
“Inside,” came his hoarse whisper. “Now.” He skimmed the material of her dress down her legs while she quivered with the knowledge he’d nearly driven her to another orgasm while just dressing her.
“Inside,” she agreed, and staggered against him when they got out.
He simply swept her into his arms, making her heart sigh. She was strong. Independent. But for right now, this was where she wanted to be, against him, with his arms tight around her.
Then the front door whipped open, startling them.
Luke took one good long look at both of them and grinned widely. “Well, look who the cat dragged in.”
Angie, drugged in sensuality only a moment before, froze, her gaze on Sam’s above her. The two of them were obviously glowing. How would he react to someone seeing them like this?
Embarrassed?
Angry?
Would he push her away?
Luke leaned against the doorjamb and continued to grin.
Sam scowled but didn’t let Angie down. “Excuse me.”
“Certainly.” Luke shifted aside, and when Sam would have kicked the door closed on him, he neatly stepped inside first.
“I meant for you to be on the other side of it when it closed,” Sam told him. “What happened to your date?”
“Didn’t work out.”
From the living room came the sounds of a ball game and the unmistakable scent of pizza. “I’m guessing you don’t want to watch the game.”
Angie tried to get down, but Sam held firm. “No.” He looked slightly abashed but not ashamed, and definitely more than a little protective as he turned away so Luke could no longer see her.
At the endearing gesture, such a small thing really, but that he would think of it…her heart took a stumble.
But with her new angle of vision she could see into a mirror that hung above a small desk in the foyer. Sam stood there, towering and sexy. In his arms was this wild, mussed, erotic-looking woman—herself. Her mouth was still wet, her hair beyond rioted, and now that she could see up close and personal, she realized her buttons hadn’t been fastened in the correct order and that her right breast was in danger of presenting itself. With a little squeak, she lifted her hands to fix the problem.
Sam didn’t look much more together. His hair was standing on end—from her fingers—and his eyes blazed with the heat they’d just shared.
In the mirror, their gazes met for one long heartbeat, during which Angie’s pulse started to race again.
They weren’t finished. Oh, thank God, they weren’t finished.
“Sorry,” Sam said to Luke, still staring at Angie’s reflection, then he started down the hall with her.
They were halfway to the bedroom before Luke called out. “I’ll just leave the pizza and pick up something else for myself, since no doubt you’re about to work up an appetite.”
Sam just slammed his bedroom door, set Angie down on his huge, rumpled, unmade bed and followed her down.
He surrounded her with his arms, his body, the look in his eyes. “I’ve already worked up the appetite,” he said, and bent his head to her body to prove it.
* * *
The sun speared through the bedroom window and rudely woke Sam up. He might have grumbled and growled and shoved a pillow over his head, only there was a weight on his pillow.
And on his body, too, he realized. Both his arms were numb and there was something sprawled over his body—
Angie.
He hadn’t forgotten, but it’d been so long since he’d let a woman stay all night—
Wait. He’d never let a woman stay all night except his ex. And certainly not like this, all entwined like a pretzel, with no feeling left in any of his limbs.
His ex hadn’t liked sleeping like that. She’d claimed he made her all hot and sticky. Couldn’t have that, apparently. She’d slept all curled in a ball on her side of the bed, and woe was him if he’d attempted to invade her space.
There was some serious space invading going on here.
He was on his side, the numbest arm beneath Angie, the other over her hip. He had a handful of her very sexy butt, holding her close to him as if he never planned on letting her go. He had one leg thrust high between her thighs, and even now he could feel the heat of her.
She faced him, his little bed hog, completely relaxed in exhausted slumber since they’d finally fallen asleep only—he squinted at the clock—two hours ago. She had her nose pressed to his collarbone, one arm thrown over his neck and a leg tossed over his hip. Her breasts, bare and glorious and…damn it.
Her other hand was open on his chest, right over his heart. He drew in a long, deep breath and braced for the panic.
Angie opened her eyes. Slowly. Easily. No grogginess for this woman, as her dark gaze landed right on him. “Morning,” she said, her voice husky from sleep. Her hair tickled his nose, her body slid sensuously along his, making him want to purr in pleasure.
Then she smiled. A stunner. His heart actually stopped, because in that gaze wasn’t simply lust. No, nothing as simple as lust. There were all sorts of terrifying things: arousal, relief, joy, affection.
And love.
He couldn’t miss it. It was blaring at him, waiting for him to acknowledge it.
But he didn’t believe in a happy-ever-after. He didn’t believe in love. And wasn’t sure he ever would. “Angie—”
She blinked, and the emotions that had so rocked his world vanished in that one flash of time, replaced by…
Nothing.
She pulled back from him, slid out of the bed and bent for her clothes. “Look at the time.” She turned to him, covering her lovely body by holding her dress in front of it. “Can I use your bathroom?” she asked politely.
“Of course, but—damn it,” he said to no one when she disappeared into his bathroom. He got out of bed, swore again when his numb legs quivered like a newborn baby, and went to the bathroom door.
Locked.
He knocked. “Angie?”
For an answer, the shower came on.
“Angie…open up.” Nothing. “I guess you figured out I’m lousy at morning afters.”
He imagined her soaping up, which did little for his very insistent morning hard-on. “Angie?” He knocked again. “I’m sorry, okay? Now let me in.”
Steam began to come from under the door. He figured she was running her hands over her entire body now.
Which should have been his pleasure this morning, thank you very much. But he was too stupid to have finagled that, wasn’t he. He put his forehead to the wood. “Look, I just had a moment of panic when I woke up and there you were, and—” And given the silence he wasn’t doing this right.
The water turned off.
The door opened. She stood there wearing nothing but his towel wrapped around her delectable body. Lush, wet curves plumped out of the top of the towel while her tanned, toned thighs showed out the bottom. The towel was a tad too big for him to see anything else.
She put her hand to his chin and lifted his gaze so it met hers. “Is your moment of panic gone now?”
He opened his mouth, but he’d never lied in his life and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.
“I see,” she said quietly, and walked past him. Halfway to the bed, she dropped the towel.
His tongue nearly fell out of his mouth as she bent for her panties. “It’s…somewhat gone,” he managed to croak out.
“Somewhat isn’t good enough.” She stepped into her dress and pulled it up the length of her body, then started on the long row of buttons.
“I know a way that would greatly help,” he said, and when she turned to look him over, he realized he was standing there bare-ass naked.
She cocked her head and, while she smiled, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Tempting, but…” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t intend to push myself on you. Will you take me to work, please?”
Push herself on him? Hell, he was willing to beg. “Work isn’t a good idea, not until we get a hold of this guy.”
She tossed back her wet hair and put her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do, take me around with you all day long?”
Terrifying how tempting that sounded. “No, but you don’t have to go out in public and be a target. We’re going to get him, probably today.”
“You’re that close?”
“We’re that close.”
“I’m going to work, Sam. I’ll be fine there.” She slipped into her sandals. Used the towel that had been covering her body to dry her hair. Pulled up the blankets they’d tossed aside in their heated passion.
All without looking at him. He looked at her though, plenty. She smelled like his soap, his shampoo. And though she was entirely covered, he ached for her to be warm and naked and plastered against him, as she had been all night long.
But she was upset, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that was his fault. So he shoved his legs into his discarded jeans, wincing as he fastened them over his erection, and went to her.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, resisting, but he turned her to face him.
“You’re angry.”
“Frustrated.” She finally looked at him, her eyes filled with something that made him swallow hard. “And I just realized I’m never going to reach you, not the way I want to.”
Regret was a two-fisted punch. “Angie—”
“Yeah, I know. Take me to work, Sam. I think we both need the space.”
Space was exactly what he needed. Actually, he had no idea what he needed anymore.
* * *
Sam pulled up in front of the café and turned to Angie, looking like he needed coffee in the worst way.
Angie released her seat belt, reached for the door handle, then sighed and sat back.
She couldn’t leave like this. He was miserable. She was miserable. All that misery radiated through out the truck.
Worse, it wasn’t his fault. He’d given her everything he could. She knew that.
She just wanted more.
Not fair to him, not fair at all. She’d known the rules when she’d made love with him. She’d gone into it with her eyes wide open.
And she would not hurt him simply because he couldn’t be what she wanted.
“Promise you’ll wait for me to pick you up after your shift,” he said. “That you won’t even think about going back to your apartment without me.”
“Sam—”
“Promise me, Angie.”
She stared up into his tense face. He hadn’t taken the time to shave, and the stubble on his jaw added to his edgy, dangerous expression. The black jeans and black T-shirt only lent credence to the fact.
But he didn’t scare her. He never could. Nor could she resist him, it seemed. With another sigh, she leaned in and put her mouth to the bunched muscle on his jaw.
From deep in his throat came a low, rough sound. A helpless sound.
And her heart squeezed. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to be touched by her, but he was. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was. “Angie, promise me.”
She replaced her mouth with her hands, cupping his face as she pulled back far enough to meet his gaze. “I promise to let you be my hero.”
“I mean it.”
So tough. Trying to be so distant. But his eyes gave him away. “I mean it, too.”
He stared at her for a long moment, as if assessing her for honesty.
She kissed him again, on the lips this time, very softly, very gently. “Have a good day.”
He groaned and set his forehead to hers. “Damn it, I want to be mad at you. Don’t ruin it for me.”
She slid her arms around him and hugged him close. “I won’t.”
He groaned again, but his arms came around her, too, warm and sure and strong. He slid his jaw against hers. “I want you to be safe. Do you understand that? God, you’re really driving me crazy.”
“I know.” She sank her fingers into his hair and lifted her face to see his. “I don’t mean to. I love you, Sam.” Gently she put her fingers to his lips, before he could react. “I just wanted you to know.” Kissing him one last time, she grabbed her purse and left the truck.