I WOKE UP the next morning still feeling like I was hovering on cloud nine. Every muscle was languid and sated, and there was a lingering ache between my thighs, reminding me how close Sam and I had been. After we had sex for the first time, we went twice more, and each subsequent encounter had been slightly rougher and more intense than the last. He did as he said he would, though. He pieced me together, slowly and beautifully, and even as I blinked awake to find myself naked and alone in his bed, I felt blissfully whole.
Contentment left me on a sigh, and I curled myself deeper into the soft, coziness of his duvet. The scent of him, of us together, surrounded me, and I smiled to myself. Over the last couple of months, we’d created this bubble that belonged only to us, a place where his pieces seemed to fit my broken ones perfectly, and I’d have been lying if I’d said I wasn’t terrified to step out of it.
It only took one moment to change your life.
One mistake. One missed apology. One regret.
I lay there for a while, drifting in and out of sleep, and when another hour or so passed and Sam hadn’t returned, I decided it was time to get up and seek him out.
Scooting to sit and resting back against the slatted headboard, I took a look around the quiet room, not at all surprised by the simplicity of the space. Pale light filtered in through the large, single window at my back. Light gray carpet collided with darker gray walls, and a long wooden dresser sat opposite of his platform bed. In the far corner, my sweater dress lay folded on a black leather and metal armchair, and my boots rested on the floor beneath it. Two doors on the right led to what I assumed were a closet and bathroom, and I swung my legs off the mattress, needing to use the latter.
Barefoot, I shuffled across the room, a chill chasing up my legs at the loss of Sam’s warm bed. I took a few minutes to freshen up, brushing my teeth with his toothpaste and my finger, and then slipped out of the bathroom, quickly dressing before exiting his bedroom entirely. I plodded down a narrow hallway which opened to a rather large living room, only to discover the rest of his house was much like his bedroom, simple and modern with masculine accents and touches. A few framed photos hung on the walls, many of them aged pictures of him and his mother, and a sadness gripped my chest. Sam was no stranger to pain, but I saw through him as if he were an unobscured piece of glass.
I knew the workings of his heart, probably better than he did.
Moving closer, I smoothed my fingers over a faded photo of him sitting in front of a Marvel-themed birthday cake, his mother hovering over his shoulder with a smile that resembled his on her face. Wide and beautiful. He looked just like her, a mirror image. Dark brown hair and hazel eyes. I stood there for several long moments, lost in his past and desperately wishing his life could have been different, because if there was anyone who deserved a world of happiness, it was Sam.
The tinkering of claws on the wood floor yanked me away from the memories, and Rex made circles around my feet. I crouched down, scratching him behind his ears as he licked happily at my chin. “Where is he, huh? Where did that man of mine get off to this morning?”
Rex darted through the living room and back into the kitchen, and I quickly followed, watching as he sprung up on his hind legs, jumping excitedly at the door. A coat rack was fixed to the adjacent wall, and I grabbed the first jacket my hands landed on, slipping into it and venturing outside.
Moisture-filled clouds hovered in the sky, and the winter silence sent a chill down my spine. Frigid morning air prickled the exposed areas of my skin as I crossed the tiled path to Sam’s studio, and when I reached the door, I let myself in. I quietly sidestepped around the wooden barrier to see Sam sitting at his drafting table, his back facing me. Rock music played loudly, blaring off the walls and drowning out my presence in the room. I tiptoed over to him. Making sure his hands were empty, I threw my arms around his shoulders and nuzzled myself into the space between his collarbone and neck, inhaling deeply.
God, I’d missed him.
How was that possible when he’d been right here all along?
At the feel of my embrace, Sam immediately swiveled on his stool, and I fell into his chest, kissing him as if we hadn’t spent the entire night wrapped up in each other.
“You left me,” I whispered as I broke away from his lips, but his hands stopped me, pulling me into his lap.
He kissed me again, his tongue swirling around mine, tasting like mint and hazelnut coffee as he delivered his arbitrary excuse. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You should have. The bed was far too cold without you in it this morning.”
“Is that right?”
I smoothed my hands up his chest. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. You looked so beautiful and peaceful, and the picture of you laying naked in my bed wasn’t one I wanted to distort.” He paused, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “It’s also Sunday, which means I have to go see my father in a little bit, but after last night and being in here, I was feeling a bit inspired.”
“Inspired?” I grinned, lifting on my toes and trying to peer over his shoulder. “Are you making something?”
“Maybe.” He dodged my curiosity.
“Well, what are you making? I want to see.”
Sam rose to his full height, blocking my view. “You’ll see, but not now.”
“Not now?” I pouted. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not even close to being finished, and besides”—he swooped down and scooped me up, tossing me over his shoulder caveman style and headed for the door—“I’m dragging you back to my bed.”
My hair spilled over my face and swayed as he bounded out of the studio, and I pushed off his back, laughing at his unusual show of primal possessiveness. This was new—a playful side of him I’d never seen. “Are you now?”
“Yes, but I need you to lose a few articles of clothing along the way.”
“And why in the world would I need to do that?”
“Because I plan on ravaging you until you’re begging me to stop.”
I chewed on my lips, totally onboard with that idea, although I highly doubted that would ever be the case. I couldn’t seem to get enough of him. “You, Mr. Copeland, are a very naughty man.”
He shook his head and chuckled, the sound of it lingering in my ears as he gave my ass a light slap and carried me through his living room and back into his bedroom. He dumped me onto the center of his bed and crawled over me, eyes dark and hooded and full of wicked mischief. “You have no idea just how naughty I can be.”
Grinning, I fisted his shirt in my hands and yanked him to me, crashing our lips together.
“Show me.”
I SLUMPED BACK against the stone tiles as Sam set me down on my feet, the blood in my veins heated and humming with the release of my latest orgasm. The water had run cold in the time it’d taken him to wash my hair and lather my body and then pin me against the shower wall, driving into me as if he was a man in need of his next fix and I was his newest addiction. We both came fast and hard, our chests heaving and our breaths mingling in short, raspy pants.
“Oh God,” I moaned, still trying to come down from the high, my legs weak and my knees wobbly. “I could seriously do that all day.”
Sam chuckled, kissing and nipping at my lips as his hands gently kneaded my breasts. “We can. As soon as I get back, I’m all yours. If you want to spend the day in bed, we’ll spend the day in bed.”
“Promise?” I glanced at him through wet lashes, watching as droplets of water beaded off his face and down his naked chest. Now that we had crossed this line, there was no uncrossing it. Now that I knew what it felt like to be beneath him, his weight on top of me and him inside of me, I was desperate to experience him over and over again.
Sam turned the shower off, reaching his arm out of the curtain and grabbing a towel from the hook on the wall. He wrapped it around me and kissed me again, softer this time. “Promise.”
We stepped out of the shower, and as I dried off and slipped into the T-shirt and pajama pants Sam gave me to wear, he dressed himself in a pair of jeans and a navy-blue flannel Henley.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay here alone? You’re more than welcome to come with me.”
“I’ll be fine, and no, I think it’s good that you go alone. You and your father need to talk.”
“Yeah.” He nodded his head in agreement and sat on the edge of his bed, pulling his socks on his feet. “We do. What are you going to do when I’m gone?”
I crawled up behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest and feathering kisses along his neck and around to the front column of his throat. He smelled divine—a fresh scent of manliness and body wash—and if he didn’t get out of here soon, I wasn't going to allow him to leave at all. “Oh, you know, what every crazy girlfriend does when her boyfriend leaves her alone in his house.”
Sam paused, his head turning to the side as he peered at me over his shoulder. “Girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” I gnawed on my bottom lip, nervous I’d actually given us a title. “Was I being too presumptuous?”
“Not at all. I was just testing out the sound.” Smiling, he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to my lips. “And what exactly is my crazy girlfriend going to do in my house once I leave her alone?”
I grinned. “Snoop through your things and try to find all of your dirty little secrets.”
Sam shook his head dismissively and guffawed. “You find anything remotely interesting or incriminating, be sure to let me know. I’d love to see it.”
His response was meant to be funny, but I found myself frowning instead. He was being way too hard on himself. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know that? You make yourself out to seem like this boring guy who has no life.”
“That’s because I don’t”—he was quiet for a moment, contemplating my words—“or at least, I didn’t.” Lifting his chin, he caught my gaze. Vulnerability stared back at the me, honest and raw. “Not until I met you.”
“That’s not true.” Maybe it was, but I didn’t want to believe it. Sympathy twisted my features just as tight as it twisted my heart. “You might have been scared, but that’s a normal human reaction. Anybody would be in your situation.”
Focusing on my face, he reached out and pressed his thumb to the lines that had gathered on my forehead, smoothing them out. “Perhaps, but I pushed people away when I should have been keeping them close, and I don’t want to do that with you. I can’t, because you …” He laughed a little, the sound barely a whisper under his breath as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to admit. “You’ve gotten under my skin. You’re in my veins and as much as it scares me to have you there, it also feels right, like you belong.” His thumb traced the angle of my jaw and skimmed over my parted lips, and the intimacy burning between us was hot enough to burn the entire place to the ground. “You belong with me.”
A fire started in my stomach. The same fire that always ignited while in Sam’s presence.
“I belong with you,” I said breathlessly, crawling onto his lap. With my knees straddling his waist and my hands climbing his chest, our mouths met in a deep, soulful kiss. I quickly became lost in him, the way his heart pounded beneath my palm and how I knew without a shadow of a doubt it was beating for me, the heat of his hands as they slid beneath my shirt and up my spine, and the feel of his erection as it nudged hard against my inner thighs.
“Cassi.” He was breathing heavily.
“Go.” I shoved at his chest and slid off his lap, making myself comfortable in the center of his bed. “Go, before I don’t let you go at all.”
“Jesus Christ, woman.” Groaning, he crawled over me for one more kiss. “Nothing like sending me out of here with the worst fucking hard-on.”
I glanced down at the bulge in the front of his jeans and chuckled. “Consider it an incentive to hurry home.”
“I’ll be back. An hour. Tops.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
He turned and practically ran out the door.
AFTER SAM LEFT, I lay in his bed for a little while, wrapped up in his sheets and the dreamy happiness that came along with all that we’d done, everything we’d shared. I could still feel the roughness of his hands whispering over my skin and the minty taste of his mouth on my tongue. The crisp, woodsy smell of him lingered all around me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt high—high on life, high on him, high on the possibility of a new kind of forever.
But there’s a fatal flaw with this type of feeling.
It’s temporary, fleeting.
The high only lasts so long before you begin to fall, and right before you crash, you realize the saying is true: what goes up must come down.