21. Kenna

21

KENNA

"Anyone can fly; it's the landing that'll kill ya." ~ Archie "Witty" Whitlock

My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them to open. Mornings were the worst. The first few hours I was awake, I operated on auto-pilot. I was never actually alert and functional until after noon.

Today, however, was different. As soon as I opened my eyes, the memories of the night before came flooding into my head, and all traces of grogginess evaporated.

I'd had sex. Not only had I had sex, I had sex with Sam. I'd always heard horror stories about first times, but mine had been…perfect. Better than perfect. When I asked him if it was always like that, he said that it wasn't, so maybe it was special. Or was he just saying that to make me feel better about my situation? He didn't want me to have sex FOMO, or something.

A grin lifted on my face as flashes of last night filled my head. Obviously, I knew that sex was intimate, but I never expected to feel so connected to another person. And I also never expected anyone to make me feel as good as Sam had. The orgasms he'd given me had been so much more intense, more powerful, than any I'd experienced when I was alone.

Speaking of alone, that's exactly what I sensed I was. I didn't hear any sign of life in the room, not from Sam or Winnie. Even though I suspected that was the case, I was still disappointed when I turned over and saw that the bed was empty. My disappointment was short-lived when one of my other senses came to life, and I smelled bacon and coffee.

Sam was still here, and he'd cooked me breakfast. Breakfast was his favorite meal of the day; he'd always maintained that it was the most important. At least once a week, I'd receive a text to join him next door for pancakes, waffles, French toast, or whatever culinary delight he'd whipped up, but I ignored them all. Getting out of bed, even for food, was never my priority.

Today, however, I was wide awake and hungry. Starving, actually.

I sat up and slid my legs off the side of the bed. When I did, my body ached in places I didn't even know it could ache. My inner thigh muscles and every muscle between them were sore. I felt like an old lady as I bent down and grabbed Sam's shirt off the floor before retrieving fresh underwear from my top dresser drawer.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, where I pulled my hair up into a bun, brushed my teeth, and stared at my reflection to see if I looked any different (spoiler alert: I did not), I headed down the hallway toward the kitchen.

On the short trip, my palms dampened, and my pulse started beating rapidly. I was nervous to face Sam. Last night had been amazing…to me, but I had no clue how he felt about it. What if he was having morning-after regrets?

Was it going to be awkward between us?

Would we just pretend it never happened?

Could we go back to the way things were?

I'd never experienced a morning after before, so I was going into this totally blind. One thing was for sure: if it were anyone other than Sam I was about to see, I'd be having a full-fledged panic attack.

Now that I'd actually been intimate with someone, I realized how crazy it was that I had planned on engaging in that activity with a stranger. Well, not a stranger, but someone I'd known for only a short amount of time who I had no real feelings for.

I couldn't begin to hypothesize about what I'd be feeling now if I'd been successful with my original plan. I was so grateful that it had been Sam. He might not love me the way I loved him, but I knew he cared about me, and I trusted him completely. I wouldn't have felt that way with anyone else.

When I rounded the corner, my mouth watered, and it had nothing to do with the delicious aromas percolating in the air. It had everything to do with the appetizing sight in front of me. Sam was standing at the stove with his back to me, donning only a pair of dark gray sweats.

His broad shoulders, muscular traps, and chiseled triceps were sculpted like a piece of art. If he had lived in Roman times, he would have been a gladiator, and there would have been statues of him etched in marble.

Winnie trotted over to say good morning to me, which caught Sam's attention. He glanced over his shoulder. When he saw me, a sexy half-grin tugged at his lips.

"Nice shirt."

I glanced down. "It was the first thing I saw."

"It looks good on you." The look in his eyes was the same as the night before, when I was standing in front of him naked. He looked like he wanted to have me for breakfast.

I felt my body flush from the inside out. I thought I'd known every expression Sam Whitlock had, but I'd never seen bedroom-eyes Sam Whitlock. I wasn't familiar with this side of him, and holy moly, was this side potent. It made sense now why women found him irresistible, regardless of the fact that he never made them any promises of forever.

They took what he offered, which, if I were being totally honest, I'd judged them for. I didn't understand why someone would settle for less than everything. But that was before I knew what Sam's lips felt like kissing me, what his hands felt like touching me, and what his body felt like inside of me.

Even though last night was perfect, I did have one regret. I wished I would have taken my time with him while I had an all-access pass to his body. I'd been so overwhelmed with everything that was happening that I hadn't capitalized on the opportunity.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Sit down. I'll make you a plate."

My knees were weak as I walked to the table and lowered into my chair. As I watched him, shirtless, filling my plate, I recognized the view was different now. I was seeing Sam through an entirely new lens. I'd seen him in this state of undress plenty of times. I'd ogled his chest, back, and arms, but I hadn't known what they felt like on top of me. How his chest felt rubbing against my nipples as he slid in and out of me. How the muscles in his back rippled when he reached climax.

"Bon appétit," he said as he sat both of our plates down.

"Thanks, this looks amazing." I licked my lips.

Sam lowered down in the seat across from me, and our eyes met. I smiled, wondering who was going to mention the night before first. I had a feeling it was going to be him because I had no clue how to broach the subject. Before I found out the answer, my front door flew open.

I jumped in my chair as my mom walked inside the entryway and closed the door behind her, calling out, "Morning, Amorina."

What was happening? Why was she here? Why had she just let herself in?

"Oh, you're up!" My mom exclaimed when she entered the kitchen and saw me and Sam sitting at the table. "I thought I would have to drag you out of bed, kicking and screaming. Apparently, someone beat me to it. And good, good, good—you made breakfast. My Sammy needs his strength."

She reached out and patted "her Sammy's" face.

"Sam cooked. What are you doing here, Ma?"

"I need a new dress for tonight, for my party."

"Your surprise party."

She ignored my comment as her hands flew in the air. "So, we're going shopping."

"Shopping?" I repeated as my mom looked between Sam and me, and it dawned on me that I was wearing his shirt, and he was wearing sweats.

Oh crap. She was going to know that something had happened between us. I'm not sure why it took me so long to realize that, probably because I was so used to Sam being around, but this was a classic morning-after scene.

The thought of my mom knowing that Sam and I hooked up, the questions that would follow, and the complications this would bring into my life, made my mouth go dry, and I started to feel dizzy. I picked up my OJ to try and fix both symptoms.

As I took a drink, my mom smiled as she waved her hand between us. "You two are so cute." Her eyes landed on Sam. "Do you remember when you used to climb into Amorina's bedroom and spend the night?"

Her inquiry caused me to choke on my orange juice as I sputtered, "You knew ?!"

I'd always been terrified that my parents would find out, and I'd get grounded or my window would be nailed shut. But this whole time…she knew?

My mom's arms flew in the air. "Of course, I knew. I know everything."

"Did Dad know?"

Her nose scrunched as she pursed her lips. She shook her head. "No, no, no, your father would have got his shotgun. No, why tell him something that will just raise his blood pressure? Now, enough talk! Go get dressed! I have to be back in town to get my hair done at two." My mom snapped a dish towel that seemingly materialized from nowhere toward me.

I stood and walked out of the kitchen. When I looked back, my mom was clearing the table and wrapping up the breakfast food while lecturing Sam that he needed to eat more and get some meat on his bones. It was the same thing she always told my brothers. If it were up to her, they'd be four hundred pounds.

Before I rounded the corner, Sam's eyes met mine, and a small, knowing grin tugged at his lips. It made my heart and stomach do somersaults. We hadn't had a chance to talk, but I knew that we'd be okay.

It took me fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed; when I came out, I found my mom dusting my bookshelf. The woman never stopped. I wasn't surprised that Sam was gone. As much as he loved my mom, she could be a lot. Especially when she was wound up, which she was because of her "surprise" party.

"Okay, I'm ready," I announced with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

"Good, good, good!" she exclaimed, but continued dusting the top shelf.

Before we made it out the door, my mom put a load from my washing machine into my dryer, put away the dishes from breakfast that were in the drying rack (she didn't trust dishwashers), and reorganized my spice rack.

Fifteen minutes later, we were in the car and headed to the Parrish Creek shopping mall. The first twenty minutes of our drive, I listened as she filled me in on all the gossip of the over-sixty crowd in town and what my brother Mason was up to.

When there was a lull in the conversation, meaning she took a breath, I asked, "Why didn't you ever say anything about Sam sneaking in?"

Her lips pursed, and she shook her head from side to side. "That boy had a lot going on at home. You were always his safe place. I knew that he respected us and would never do anything to disrespect our home."

Wow. That was a lot of trust to put in a teenage boy.

She sliced her eyes toward me. "It was you I didn't trust."

"Me?!" I touched my hand to my chest in shock.

Little did she know I was as pure as the driven snow. Or at least I was until last night.

"Yes you . But then, I think, if you were going to do something, at least our Sammy loves you."

Yeah, like a sister. Or at least, that's how he'd been with me before last night. Now, I didn't know what to think. Or feel. Or do.

Everything felt different, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.