I PRESSED MY back to the door, my palms flat, as I leaned against it for support, trying to make sense of the last fifteen minutes. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I’d intended to speak those same words to him—to let him know I didn’t think seeing each other anymore was a good idea. So why did my world suddenly feel like it had been spun off its axis?
Lungs heavy and legs wobbly, I straightened myself, resisting the urge to run to the window and peek out of it. I didn’t want to see him walking away—not when I was struggling with the idea of letting him. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose, reassuring myself this was for the best. No matter how right it had felt to be in his arms last night or the wave of disappointment that hit me this morning as I woke up without him, this—whatever this was—was better to be left as a “what could have been.”
A breath-stealing shiver ran down my spine as I stepped foot onto the cool wood floor, and there was a new emptiness in my chest I was incapable of describing, much less one I understood. As I padded toward the kitchen to clean up the two mugs we’d left abandoned on the counter, a loud knock echoed throughout the entire house, and I jumped out of my skin. I pivoted, taking three urgent steps back to the door and pulled it open, the sight of Sam standing before me, a conflicted and almost distressed look on his handsome face making my heart beat out of tune.
“Sam. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry.”
My chest rose faster, my breaths coming in short pants as fear took over. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”
“For this—” He took a step forward, shoving his hands into my hair at the same time his lips crushed down on mine.
Oh God.
My head and my heart were instantly at war—my head shouting at me to push him away, break our connection, because neither of our hearts were cut out to handle the repercussions of what was seconds away from occurring, and yet, my heart screamed to pull him closer.
My heart won out.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I yanked him to me. My entire body lit up at the feel of him. His chest hard against my soft. His mouth, as greedy as his hands, both exploring and taking. My lips parted on a whimper, and Sam took advantage, slipping his tongue inside and flicking it against mine in a heated dance of licks and breathless strokes.
He tasted exactly how I imagined he would: like heartbreak and redemption—like a thousand broken dreams and a million impractical wishes.
His hands left my hair and dropped to my hips.
Rough-padded fingers grazed the exposed skin on my waist where my shirt had lifted, and the contact was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
As if I were a lit match tossed into a pool of gasoline, heat engulfed every fiber of my being, melting me from the inside out.
A lust-filled gasp erupted from the back of my throat, and Sam answered by kissing me deeper, harder, his tongue clashing with mine in a relentless battle of need and desperation.
With every stroke, he demanded more.
And I gave it, willingly.
The fire kindling between my thighs burst into a roaring flame—spreading to every limb, weakening my knees, obliterating my resolve.
My balance faltered.
Sam broke my fall by lifting and hauling me against him, his strong arms supporting my weight. My legs curled around his waist at the same time my hands climbed up his neck, my fingers threading through and fisting the soft strands of his hair.
With our bodies perfectly aligned, every bit of us that mattered touched and connected like a pair of magnets, drawn together and unable to be parted.
The metal button of his jeans rubbed against my center, the thin barrier of silk guarding my lower half doing little, if anything at all, to prevent the delicious friction from hitting my core. Molten pleasure rippled through my veins, and I rolled my hips forward and down, desperate to catch another wave of the sensation.
Sam groaned at my movement, and as I swallowed the sound of his arousal, letting it vibrate down my throat, the throbbing between my legs intensified.
I was wet and incredibly turned on, and I couldn’t remember the last time I was either of those things.
The driving force of Sam’s kiss, and the touch of his hands as they slid beneath my shirt and up my spine, sent a path of tingles over my skin and around to my breasts. My nipples hardened, and my body arched, aching for more. More kisses, more touches, more him. It had been too long since I’d experienced the release my body craved, and I realized right then, even if I couldn’t give him my heart, I could give him this: I could give him me. His need was as obvious and apparent as my own, his cock pressing long and hard against my stomach, and I tugged at the strands of his hair, kissing him with a fierce passion I didn’t know I possessed.
God, I needed him.
I needed his hands on my every curve and the soft flesh of his mouth caressing every inch of my skin. I needed him to erase the pain and fill me with pleasure.
I needed him to perform the impossible.
Make it not hurt, Sam. Please make it not hurt.
Before my brain registered that he’d placed me back on my feet, my body mourned the loss of his closeness—my tongue, the taste of his mouth.
He dropped his forehead to mine, his hands shaking where they rested on my hips. His chest heaved with each one of his ragged breaths, and as the warmth of it danced fire over my wet, swollen lips, I kept my eyes closed.
I was afraid to look at him—afraid of what I might feel or what I might see when I did.
Silence suffocated the air, yet the vicious whooshing of blood in my ears and the harsh pounding of my heart completely drowned it out.
A minute passed. Five. Maybe ten.
I really wasn’t sure. It wasn’t until Sam’s raw and gritty voice cut through our cloud of body heat and tension that I realized neither of us had made an effort to move.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the sound painful.
I shook my head, his still pressed against it, and fought my body’s initial reaction to wince. He regretted this. He regretted it before it even happened. It was why he apologized before his lips even collided with mine.
Why did that make my heart hurt?
Finally lifting my lashes, I caught a glimpse of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip, and I struggled to not look into his eyes.
“I, uh …” He breathed out, his thought breaking as his Adam’s apple bobbed uneasily in his throat. “I’m going to go now.”
Not knowing what to say or do, I simply nodded. My body was still alive from the feeling of him all over it, and as much as I wanted to experience that again—him, again—I needed to let him go. I needed to let him leave because I had not the slightest clue what any of this meant, and I needed time to process it.
Sam took the first step back, putting even more distance between us, and it was then I gathered enough courage to glance up at him. His expression was difficult to read, not giving away much at all as far as what thoughts might have been running through his mind, and I caught myself holding my breath for his reaction.
He did exactly as he said he would, and without any indication as to whether I'd ever hear from him again, he turned around and walked out the door.
I stood still, lost in regretful confusion.
A sudden brewing of tears stung the corner of my eyes. I blinked fast, trying to ward them off.
What the hell had I done?
Violent and fierce, guilt crashed into me, and I stumbled against the arm of my couch, unable to breathe. I kissed him back, and if he hadn’t stopped me, I would have let him continue. For a few lust-induced moments, my body would have been completely his for the taking.
Oh God. Breathe, Cassi. Just breathe.
Pulling myself together enough to move, I grabbed my phone from the coffee table, my fingers shaking as I scrolled through my contact list. I needed to call Jenny. She was my voice of reason. She’d know what to say. Finding her entry, I pressed the call button and brought the phone to my ear. The line rang twice before she answered.
“Hello.”
In one single blink, the tears escaped, soaking my cheeks as their salty wetness settled on my lips. “J-Jen.” Her name broke on a sob.
“Cass?” Panic filled her tone. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I kissed him.” I screwed my eyes shut, swallowing a lungful of painful air as my fingers rubbed against the frown creasing my forehead. “I mean, he kissed me. We kissed each other.” Any composure I managed completely flew out the window. Overwhelming emotion stole my breath and constricted my chest as I sank onto the couch. “I didn’t stop him, Jenny. I didn’t push him away. I should have—”
“Cassi, stop. Calm down, okay. I need you to calm down and breathe. I can’t possibly talk to you when you’re hyperventilating.”
I did as she asked, taking a deep breath and filling my lungs before blowing the air slowly through trembling lips.
“Are you okay now?”
“Yeah.” Sniffing back the fresh round of tears readying themselves for release, I nodded. “I think I’m good.”
“Good. Now listen to me. I don’t know what happened, but what I do know is you didn’t push him away for a reason, and whatever reason that is, I think you need to explore it. Everything you’ve told me about him … well, he seems like a great guy, and it’s obvious he cares about you. He could be good for you. You could be good for each other.”
“But Adam—”
“Adam’s dead, Cass. He’s dead, and he’s not coming back.”
I sobbed into my hands.
“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It’s just I hate seeing you like this. I hate that you are living with all this guilt and regret. I know you don’t think so, but Adam would want you to be happy. He’d want you to move on and live your life.”
Another cry ripped from my throat. “I don’t know how to be happy without him.”
“But you do, you do because I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the smile on your face and the sparkle that has returned to your eyes over the course of the past few weeks. And you can’t feel guilty about that. You need to let the guilt go; otherwise, you’ll never be able to move forward. You’ll never know what it’s like to not hurt again.”
“What if I don’t deserve to be happy?”
“Bullshit. You deserve the world, and if that world involves Sam, then you deserve him, too.”
CURLED DEEP INTO the corner of the couch—my arms tightly wrapped around the sofa pillow—I stared blankly out of the patio doors. The moon had replaced the sun in the sky, shrouding the remains of the day in darkness except for its pale white glow. Nearly ten hours had passed since Sam had left, and the taste of him still lingered on my tongue—his touch, on my skin.
Ten hours.
Ten hours, and my body still felt so damn alive.
The urge to send him a message or call him had me picking up my phone several times, but I couldn’t bring myself to do either. I was in turmoil. My heart was broken. It had been for the last seventeen months, and I didn’t know how to begin to mend it, but as I sat there, replaying my and Jenny’s conversation over in my head, I wondered if maybe it wasn’t me who needed to mend it at all.
Perhaps I needed to let Sam do it for me.
Sometimes in life it was okay to ask for help. It was okay to let someone else pick up our shattered pieces and attempt to return them to their once former glory. Doing so didn’t make us weak or incapable; it meant we were strong and brave enough to admit some things were impossible to achieve on our own.
Right?
Sitting up, I glanced at my phone, debating whether to call him, when the screen lit up with a new text notification. My heart beat a little faster as I picked my cell up from its resting place on the couch and read the message.
Sam: I’m sorry.
Pain stabbed through my chest at his words.
Why did he keep apologizing? Did he not realize those two tiny words were making this so much worse? Gathering all the courage I could muster, I tapped my fingers against the keyboard, typing out a reply.
Do you regret it?
The little dots appeared, scrolling and scrolling. Why did I ask that? I didn’t want the answer—not really. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could unsend the message. My phone vibrated again, this time in my hand, and as Sam’s name flashed boldly across the screen, my heart lodged itself in my throat.
Shit.
Panicking, I sent the call to voicemail and dropped my cell as if it were a hot iron burning through the flesh of my palm. Another message appeared, and I leaned over my phone, staring at the bubble of words floating across the screen.
Sam: Answer the phone, Cassi. Please.
My teeth sank into my bottom lip at his request, and before my brain had a moment to decide, my ringtone went off again, my phone vibrating across the cushion in my direction, as if it, too, demanded I pick it up.
Swallowing the nerves rising from my stomach, I answered the call.
“Cassi?”
Dead air silenced the line. Not because I didn’t want to speak, but because I honestly didn’t know how to put into words everything I felt.
“I know you’re there, and it’s okay: you don’t have to say anything. I just—I didn’t want to say what I have to say through text. I want you to hear it right from me.” He paused. “I didn’t regret kissing you. In fact, I’m sorry that I’m not sorry at all. I realize that makes me sound like a selfish bastard, and God, maybe I am, but ...” He sighed. “You’re hurting. I get it. I also know you’re still in love with Adam and—”
“Sam, I—”
“No. Please. Let me finish. I know you’re still in love with Adam, and I need you to understand that is the only reason I walked out of your door earlier. I had to. I had to because if I didn’t I wouldn’t have stopped. I would have kept going until you were naked and beneath me and I was experiencing every beautiful fucking inch of you, because I want to experience every beautiful fucking inch of you, Cass.”
My cheeks flushed at his admission, and I squeezed my thighs together, his words and the memory of our kiss reigniting that pulsing ache.
“The last thing I want to do is push you into anything you’re not ready for, but when I’m around you, I can’t control the way I feel. And I feel for you. A lot. More than I ever imagined I would. And these feelings, while I have no idea what they are or what they mean, they scare me. Hell, they probably scare me as much, if not more, than they scare you. But I don’t want to walk away from this. I don’t want to wonder what we could have been because we’re too scared to take a single step forward to find out.”
“Sam—”
“I know I said you didn’t have to say anything, but I need to ask you something. I need to know if I’m attempting to fight an already losing battle.”
“Okay.”
“Is there even a slight chance you want me the way I want you?”
A heady warmth rolled from my chest all the way down to the tips of my toes, and I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t want him second guessing my response. “Yes.”
“Do you want to take a step forward with me and discover what we could be?”
“That was two questions.”
He chuckled, the gruff sound of his laughter making my stomach lurch in the most pleasant way.
“I guess it was.”
The line grew quiet, save for the sound of his breathing, and it was almost as if I could hear his heart whispering to me—begging me to agree—or perhaps it was mine.
Was it possible our hearts knew what they wanted before we did?
“Yes.” I cleared my throat and spoke louder, making sure he heard me over the static. “The answer’s yes.”
“Saturday night. Can I take you out?”
“Like on a date?”
“Yes, Cassi.” Amusement lightened his tone. “Like on a date.”
My lips curved into a smile. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, actually.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”