18. Sam

Chapter eighteen

Sam

(Finally. Just. Sam.)

W e’ve never shared a bed before that wasn’t under contract. Beau has never spent a night in this house as truly himself. I was a job to him, and he had to lie to me. He drafted contracts as part of that lie, but they would still have stood. They were meant to protect us both.

It feels surreal to walk into my room and find him on the side of the bed that I’ve thought of as his over the past few months. Ever since that first night, it has belonged to him.

Kind of like my heart.

We were never meant to end up here, but we did. We were never meant to fall in love, but I hope we do. An unlikely outcome between two unlikely people could never have been predicted. We weren’t supposed to find a happy ending or a happily ever after, but I hope we do. I know that, technically, the only ending in life is death, but I hope that’s a long way off for both of us. I want to fill the years we have from now until then with laughter, happiness, and goodness for both of us. I used to wish I could heal this man just by touching him, but I couldn’t. It’s going to take more than that. No person can heal anyone else, but now he wants to do it for himself. He wants to be here with me and be open to doing the things he never thought he could do again. Like feel. Fall. Love. Cherish. Be together forever.

Beau never could stick to his side. I always felt jammed up on the remainder of the bed. He’s too big. Too larger-than-life. Too all-encompassing. Seeing him take up more than his fair share of the mattress while covered with my patchwork quilt makes my chest feel bruised by the amount of happiness that hits me. The little butterflies I stitched onto the quilt to cover up the rips and tears since it’s old and a garage sale find seem to flutter as they dance all over the surface, hiding strong limbs, lean muscles, and a body that mine has been craving for months.

I want to throw myself into his arms, but I close the door gently, walk over with immense control, and slip under the blankets instead.

We both freeze, staring at each other. I want to leap on top of him, and if he doesn’t want that, then I need to inform him of my desire for him so he can tie me to the headboard to physically stop me, but the words die on my tongue.

“Do you think your sister knows what’s going to happen in here tonight? Is that why she went out to the barn?”

That’s a really good icebreaker. I laugh and stick my hands in my lap so as to keep them to myself. That’s also a pretty clear flashing neon sign that says I want you too, Sam. I want to do all the unspeakable things to you that you once told me you wanted. I’ve been thinking about sticking my meat candle into your candle holder this entire time, and I’m barely human right now with how badly I want you.

“Oh. She…uh…she doesn’t live in the house. She did at first when she moved in, but we’ve been renovating the barn, and now that I’ve got it fixed structurally, she can live out there. I’ve asked her a thousand times to keep her room in here, but she wants her own space. She has this dream for the barn, of turning it into an antiques slash little clothing shop. I’m not sure who would come all the way out here, but it’s her vision, and I’m not going to mess with it. She’s been sort of restless all her life, but really, I think she just hasn’t found her groove, and people have always told her no. They’ve doubted her so often that she doesn’t believe in herself. She also wants to grow vegetables in the summer and do farmer’s markets. Apparently, there are a ton of them around here.”

“I think she could do anything. When I walked up, I really believed she could actually tear off my arms and stuff them down my throat.”

“That was plan B if you hurt me.” I don’t wink at him because Katie’s probably capable of doing it. Not that I would have let her.

“I’m so—”

“Shh.” I drag my thumb over his lips, and they slam together obediently. “I know you’re sorry. I’m sorry, too, that you nearly died taking a bullet for me that night.”

“Technically, it lodged in the floor.”

“You could have bled out,” I mutter.

“That would have been my own fault. It should never have happened at all. That gun never should have gone off. I put you in danger.”

“I put you in danger, too,” I say with a frown.

“It was a job I signed on for.”

“You didn’t sign on to get shot and die.”

“Those are just hazards of the profession,” he says, shrugging.

Okay, fuck. I can’t help myself. I throw my arms around him and swing myself over so I’m sitting on his lap. I did this once before, and it wasn’t about sex. This time, I lower myself down and immediately feel how hard he is through his sweats. I want to grasp him, run my fingers down the length of him, take him out, and do filthy things to him. But first, I need to ask him something.

“Beau, please. Stop doing that job. I don’t want you to put yourself in danger and get killed. I don’t want you to get injured. I tried so hard to reach you, but I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know how to contact you. No one would let me through. I should never have told you to leave. I didn’t truly want that. What I wanted was for you to stay. I just thought it wasn’t real for you. I thought you meant what you said about not feeling, not doing a future, and not letting anyone in. I was angry, and my anger blinded me to how much I would miss you if I ever let you walk through that door.”

“You could have tried suing me. That would have gotten my attention. Also, it would have forced me to contact you back, at least through my lawyer.”

“What?” I want to shake him. Instead, I just set my hands on his shoulders. “Why the heck would I sue you? Wait. Okay, maybe I know why you went there, but I would never. That would imply I want your money, and I don’t. I just want you.”

“You could have sued for an apology,” he suggests.

I gape at him. “Do people seriously do that?”

“Yes, when their honor has been affronted or is at stake. Throughout history, a person’s reputation has long meant everything to them. Hence, duels, but since they’re illegal…”

“I couldn’t find you, but you came back,” I utter.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“I know. Me neither, honestly. That’s something else I want to work on with Katie. I want to create a sustainable fashion line. I haven’t quite gotten my feet back under me yet, but I don’t want to leave here. Even if it means scraping by and sewing prairie-style dresses for the rest of my life.”

Beau smirks and says, “I do find them quite hot.”

“What?” I run a hand down his chest, overtop his T-shirt. His nipples harden, making tiny twin tents in the thin, soft fabric. “You said they were horrendous.”

He winces. “Ouch. Did I really? Was I truly that awful?”

“You were such a flaming toad, but honestly, I doubted that you meant it. It always seemed like you were trying too hard.”

“I couldn’t try hard enough. No trying in the world could have kept you out,” he says with a soft smile.

“Can I be the one who doesn’t keep you out? Right now?”

“Sam,” he groans. I love the way he says my name. A hiss and a rasp, curling around the S, cradling the end. His eyes darken, especially when I keep my hand going. I’m sitting on his lap, but I scoot back and trace the outline of his hard bulge through the blankets and clothes. “Sam.” Yeah, that time, it’s more choked and with less finesse. His eyes darken, and they’re not so frigid anymore. “I was so worried you’d hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. My body has always wanted you, and my heart didn’t take long to follow suit. I want you just as you are.”

“I don’t want me as I was. I want to be better. I want to be the man my parents believed I could be. I want to do something worthwhile with all the money I have. I’ll still run my agency, but I’ll do as you asked. I won’t put myself in danger. I don’t have to take a single one of those jobs again if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to give it up if you love it. I just want you to be safe.”

“I don’t love it. I don’t love anything. That’s the problem. I have all the money anyone could ever ask for, but my life has zero love,” he says dejectedly.

Looking into his eyes, I cup his face and bring it to mine. “Let’s change that then.”

When our lips meet, it’s fire. He curls his hand into my hair and slips his tongue through the seam of my lips. I’m more than eager for him to do it. I grind down on top of him, and he groans, dragging his tongue along my bottom lip as he pulls back.

“Sam. God, Sam,” he grunts.

“I missed you. I missed you so freaking much.” I bat my eyelashes at him. “Did you miss these granny nightgowns?”

“Yes, I missed the nightgowns. I missed the dresses, the house, the cats, the farm, the silence, the fresh air, and the never-ending emptiness out here, but I missed you a thousand times more than any of that. An immeasurable amount.”

“Show me. Measure on me. I want you to show me in this nightgown. Show me out of it.”

He grins and says, “Okay, Samandra Jones. I’ll show you right out of it.”

“Do it again,” I demand.

He pauses, looking up at me, almost baffled. “I haven’t done anything yet, darling.” But oh, the dark promise his voice holds is seriously delicious.

“Do my name again.”

“Oh. Samandra Jones,” he drawls.

“Yes. That’s sexy.” I hold out the front of my nightgown for him to inspect. It’s one I made myself. I’ve been branching off into a granny-style lingerie and sleepwear line, but I haven’t posted anything to my website yet. I want to get ahead of orders because I anticipate that once people realize how hot floral, billowing, and almost shapeless bags that go down to the ankles are, they’ll order en masse. “Do you like this? I think it would be hot to keep it on for the first time. Especially since I’m not wearing any panties.”

Beau must really like the nightgown because he grabs me by the waist and flips me over onto my back. Then, he covers my body with his, and I can’t get him close enough fast enough. Fisting my hands in his T-shirt and wrapping my legs around his waist aren’t even close.

Beau skims his hand along my leg and up my thigh. He pushes fabric up the whole time, whatever hasn’t already ridden up with my own frantic movement and the sex gymnastics he just performed on me, spinning my world deliciously upside down. He’s perched right above me, his cock throbbing against my stomach. I want to unleash the beast. Badly.

Beau’s hand traces the outside of my upper thigh. Pushing the floral cotton up my belly, he sighs like he’s memorizing every curve along the way. He looks at me like I’m magic. The curtains were drawn, and I left the lights on. He can see all of me, and I’ve never felt more beautiful.

“I see you weren’t lying about the panties,” he growls huskily.

“No. Why bother when they’d only get in the way?”

He licks his lips. “I’m going to lick you now, darling.”

“Good. It’s been far too long since the last time. And don’t worry about condoms. I’ve had an IUD for years.”

He blows out a shocked breath, his eyes pure liquid heat. “Good. I didn’t bring any because I thought I might be getting ahead of myself.”

“You thought I might not even let you back into the house, let alone let you back into my bed.”

“I definitely thought you hated me.”

“If you want, we could pretend I don’t like you and have furious, nasty, dirty, filthy sex, but I’d rather do reality, where I like you very much, and we have furious, nasty, dirty, filthy sex.”

His cock kicks against my belly, and I can tell it likes that idea. He slants his mouth over mine and kisses me slowly. When my hips come up, searching for him, he puts his hand between us. I’m hot and soaked, but he’s hotter. His thumb feels like a trail of fire as he parts me and runs it up to my clit. I whimper against his lips, and he immediately groans like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted, heard, seen, touched, and experienced.

He starts doing something with his thumb that I can only describe as holysomething wondersomething, and he matches it in time with the way he’s kissing me. He uses his tongue like he’s using his thumb, stroking mine as he strokes me down below. Beau is a good kisser, but he’s also amazingly good with his hands. I thought I’d never see this man again, let alone kiss him, savor him, touch him, know him, get under his skin, and maybe even get into his heart one day. I thought our lives were meant to be walked and lived separately. I’m so glad that wasn’t true, but part of me is still a little in disbelief. This is surreal. It’s also real, as in really damn good.

Beau kisses my lips, then feathers little ones over my neck. Right where the lace collar of the nightgown ends, he puts his lips. He kisses and tastes. Tastes and kisses. All while his thumb keeps stroking my clit. Faster. Faster. I’m desperate for it, desperate for him.

“Oh my god, Beau,” I moan. I try and grasp his face, but he drags it away. I’m frustrated with the denial until he stops between my legs. I know I have to be soaking wet, glistening in the light for him. I recall how good this was the last time. But this time? It’s even better. He tilts my hips up toward him by sticking his hands under my ass. Then, he digs his fingers in, palming both cheeks effortlessly. He tilts me and does wicked things with his tongue. “More. Please,” I demand.

Grinning, he murmurs, “Okay, Sam. More it is.”

“I could beg you for it if you like.”

“You don’t have to.” His breath is warm against me as I rock against his face, my skin bursting into goosebumps. “I can already taste how much you want it.”

He licks me all over, giving my clit attention and tearing it away. He’s mean, and then he’s sweet, horrible, and gentle. He’s a tease, and then he means business. He’s a god of the sheets, and he owns me, body and soul. Also, clit and ovaries too.

My climax surprises me and scares the shit out of me as it rips through me. Beau keeps going, his mouth doing sinfully miraculous things to me. I can feel my heart sprinting in my chest, and I can also feel myself shaking like this bed comes with a vibrating massage function. Even Beau, for all his weight and muscle and massive size compared to mine, has to hold me a little bit harder to anchor me down. No matter, I feel like I’m coming apart anyway.

“I want to do that again.” I scramble for him, tugging him up to me. He doesn’t hesitate to blister my lips with another kiss that nearly gives me whiplash. I taste him and myself, and it makes me tingle all the way down to my toes and back up to my clit like an electric shock. Aftershocks 2.0 times Beau. “But with your cock inside me.”

“Oh my god.” Beau grunts. “Oh my god, Sam.”

“Yes. Sam. I’m Sam, and I want your cock buried to the hilt inside me.”

“Sam.” His eyes are practically rolling in his head, crossing all over themselves as he looks down at me. “You’re so small. And I’m really jazzed up for this. Maybe I should go to the shower and rub one out, so I have more control.”

“More control?” I can’t keep in a stunned laugh. “I don’t want you to have control. I want you to barely fit to the point where it hurts and then make me come all over you. I want you to do it right now, and I want you to want it so bad that you leave your sweats on, your boxers, everything.”

He snickers. “You’re going to get what you want, especially with a smart mouth like that.”

“Fuck me like you want to fuck up my roof, Beau. Show it who’s boss.”

He freezes. And then he laughs. He laughs until he shakes, which makes the bed feel like it’s a massager all over again. The bed frame isn’t strong enough to hold up against our combined laughter. It jiggles and creaks. It won’t give, but it does have some play in it. It sounds like it’s laughing with us. It makes the mattress vibrate beneath us, which makes us laugh harder.

“Are you trying to make me laugh?” He looks at me accusingly.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Would it be better if I asked you to do it more politely and correctly?”

“No, I like the way you asked me. Except I need to go slow enough not to hurt you. I never, ever want to do that.”

I caress his cheek and find the little scar on his chin where something on the roof dug in deep as he fell. Then I slip my hand into his sweats and run my fingers over the raised scar on his thigh where he got all those stitches. I don’t want to mess up his pump, so I don’t caress his abs, and the scar that I know is there from when the roof tore his pump out of his skin when he fell. I’ll take off his shirt when I can, and I’ll also go slowly and carefully. I plan to thoroughly memorize, please, kiss, and taste every inch of him before the sun comes up again.

“I don’t want to ever hurt you either,” I say to him.

I want him to feel safe enough to lose himself with me.

Right now. Always.

His trembling above me is the most adorable thing. But it’s not adorable how much I want him. My desire is nothing short of claws and fangs tearing at me. It’s pretty obvious that if he doesn’t do it soon, I’m going to be devoured by the sex beast inside me. Imagine chestbursters in weird horror movies, except not that gross but more like spontaneous, harmless, alien-less climaxes.

I frantically half tear off his sweats, exposing the rock face he calls his ass. Not just boulders, no. His butt is the whole rock face. They just come off in the back, so he does the front, tearing them down. We’re technically still dressed here, and it’s so hot. Next time, we can worry about peeling clothes off.

He’s slick, his cock leaking all over me as he gets it lined up. As he pushes inside, he looks at me and stops immediately. “For the love of chai tea, which I really don’t love, you’re tight.”

“Describe it,” I plead.

He groans. “I’ll last two seconds if I describe it.”

“I want to know what it feels like for you. What I feel like.”

He kisses me so hard that I have to grasp his face and tug on his hair to keep from being speared straight into the bed.

“You’re so tight that I barely fit already,” he murmurs.

I wriggle against him, and he fills me a little bit more, stretching me to the point of pain. It’s not the worst feeling in the world. In fact, it might be the best thing I’ve ever felt. “Don’t stop. I like that you barely fit. I like the fact that you’re huge, and I’m small. I like everything about you. You’re just right. You’re always going to be just right in every way to me.”

Another inch, and I make a noise that could probably be construed as not liking what’s happening, but I do like it very much. Predictably, Beau freezes. “It sounds like I’m killing you,” he gasps.

“You’re not. I’m good. It’s amazing. Keep going,” I pant.

“Your sister might hear us and come running from the barn.”

“What’s she going to do? Throw you out the window?”

We haven’t talked about that horrible day other than after—after Beau was stitched up and after he revealed who he really was to me, even if the truth wasn’t that far off from what he could tell me all along. I know he wasn’t prepared for how much he was going to hate lying to me. He didn’t think I was innocent, and then when he found out I was, he had to prove it legally before he could tell me the truth. He knew I was going to hate him, yet he still hung in there. He still took a bullet because of his job, but his job was me.

He tenses, but then he ducks his head and licks the shell of my ear. “You are your own brand of crazy, but your crazy is special, and your special is everything I could ever want.”

I grasp his face and tilt him back to me. “Look at me, Beau. I want you to watch while you make me come. I want you to watch my face as you see all the pleasure you’re giving me reflected back at you. I want you to watch me like a mirror, and I’ll watch you the same way. We can see all the parts of ourselves that were empty and needed filling up getting full because that’s how caring for another person works.”

He blinks once again. “Is that supposed to be a sex joke?”

I swat his shoulder. “That’s my attempt at being romantic, thank you very much.”

“I—”

“Beau?” I whisper his name.

“Yes?”

“You can do it now.”

And he does. He pushes inside me until I’m curled around him on the outside and clenching around him tightly on the inside. Until I’m vibrating. He doesn’t stop. He drives me into insanity, which takes about four and a half seconds. He’s not the only one who is jazzed up. I can feel myself tensing, feel my walls clenching around him over and over. I can feel every muscle in my body tensing, getting ready to break apart around him. I’m probably a little wild, writhing and riding against him, my hips and body taking over because I feel him bottom out inside me. He’s wild, too. We’re both perfectly wild, sighing and panting and moaning together. His hands press mine into the bed above my head, and somehow, he still keeps a perfect balance on top of me.

We lose ourselves in each other. He loses himself a little harder, dragging his cock in and out of me, and now I’m even closer, even though I’ve been ridiculously close this whole time. We are perfect together, even if we are so wild that we’re putting this bed to the test.

My climax, when it comes, sparks like a gasoline fire. One single flame, and then I’m consumed. I tighten around Beau in every way, my muscles spasming, my hands clenching tight against his. He kisses me, a hot, consuming kiss, and then he’s coming too. It’s not at the same time as me, but then, maybe it is because I’m not sure I ever stopped. I’ve never had such a long climax or known anything so tender and wild and intimate. I’m still kind of coming even while he’s shaking, even when he’s coming down. I’m barely at that stage. I haven’t even reached the aftershocks yet.

But when they do come, I’m a mess.

Butterflies and full hearts don’t even begin to do it justice.

“Sam, I don’t…I don’t deserve you,” Beau whispers huskily above me. He’s kept himself upright this whole time, effortlessly supporting his own weight above me.

“Is that a sex thing to say, or is it an all-encompassing thing?”

“The latter,” he answers.

“In a good way or bad way?” I ask.

“What?”

“Never mind. Either way, you’re wrong on all counts,” I tell him before kissing him so hard, so brutally, so breathlessly. “You do deserve me, Beau.” I know I can’t take away his pain, but through the coming days, weeks, and months, I hope we can face it together. I have so many changes happening in my own life, and I know he’ll adapt with me. He’s here, I’m here, and that means everything. It means that even though I’m not sure about the how of it, I know there’s one inescapable truth.

Our bodies belong together.

Our souls belong together.

Our hearts belong together.

Speaking of hearts, I set my hand directly overtop his. Over the top and over-the-top. Yes, to both. All the yeses in the world. “Our lives are just starting to intertwine, but it’s going to be beautiful. That’s what you deserve. Do you believe me?” I say.

He kisses me until my breath turns into his breath, and he practically induces another orgasm just by kissing me. Until I’m certain that if he’s still undecided about everything working out, he’ll take my word for it. He’ll listen to me over his doubts, fears, and past hurts.

He believes me, and he believes in me believing in him.