Sam wouldn’t crumble.
“I know there’s this… thing between us,” she said in that careful way, ignoring his question and what it meant.
But her arms were still around his neck, her body pressed to his.And he could see the pulse throbbing at her neck, hear thebreathinessin her voice thathe’dput there, because he’d certainly never heard that before.
He raised an eyebrow at her.Thing.What a word.
“I’d just hate for it to ever be…” She was clearly searching for the right word.
But it’d only be the wrong one.He couldn’t even be offended, because he knew what it was like to need to protect yourself from anything that might be good but delicate, fragile, so easy to be here one day, gone the next.
But this wasn’t going away.And he’d finally come to the conclusion he didn’t want it to.
“Sam.”
“What?”
“This has been inevitable for a long time.”
He was glad she didn’t argue with him.Surprised and glad.Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to make iteasy.“So why now?”
He thought about yesterday—the almost fight with Cal, telling his family about Bo Lake.He thought about walking through that house with her and the way he’d floated through this thing he knew he had to do to move forward, and she’d been the anchor.She’dasked questions.She’dgone to the Wolf’s Den with him because of Cal.
They could keep dancing along the line of friendship, but wasn’t that just another lie?Another fiction.He was done withpretending.Or he was going to try to be done with it.
“Because I’m going to start reaching out for the good things in life, instead of keeping them at arm’s length hoping that won’t hurt.”
He saw the way those words landed.Heknewshe understood, even if she hadn’t quite made the same progress he had.She would.She was too strong not to.
So he lowered his mouth to hers again.Was it the truth or something else that made it a little more desperate every time their mouths touched?
Sam Price was all sharp angles and hard edges, but her skin was soft.Warm.He couldfeelwhen she finally let go—maybe not of all her worries, but enough.Enough to throw herself into the kiss, intothis.
And with that, any stray thoughts of careful or gentle were obliterated.Maybe they were both a little too used to fighting for their lives to sustain gentle or careful.Maybe they’d let this build too long, too much, and an explosion was the only end result.
At least it was an explosion he’d chosen.He made quick work of the buttons of her shirt, and she undid his tie, discarded it, while their mouths fused and their hands took detours on the way to try to get rid of each other’s clothes.
When her hands found the button of his pants, he stopped her forward progress by grabbing her wrist, more instinctual reaction than because he actually wanted to stop her.It was just…
“You’re not really stopping menow,” she said, enough incredulity in her tone he had to smile despite how little this was funny.
“It’s not about stopping.It’s… my leg.My injury.It’s not… pretty.”He’d gotten used to the scars, but he couldn’t imagine someone who’d never seen that kind of damage wouldn’t be… affected.
“You’re kind of going to need to take your pants off for the next step.”
He supposed he was, but… “It’s… a lot, Sam.”
She looked up at him, lips pursed, dark eyes wide and luminous as she thought those words through.She did that.Took the time to parse the weight of things.In ways that weren’t always comfortable.
In ways maybe he hadn’t yet.Because, yes, he’d physically healed from his injuries.He’d accepted his military career was over.But he’d dived into the trauma of his mother’s murder without ever dealing with whatlifelooked like.
Things like someone seeing his injuries.Easy not to concern himself with when he was kissing her, a little harder when the reality of what the end result of those kisses required.
“It won’t bother me.It’s just part of you,” she said with a certainty he wished he could believe.Before he could mount an argument to that, she pulled her hands away.“But it bothers you.Okay.Come on then.I’ve got an idea.”She grabbed his hand, pulled him deeper into the apartment.Her… bedroom.
It looked like a bomb had gone off in here.Worse than the living room.Worse than her desk.But she just dragged him along, nudged him onto the edge of her bed.So, he sat there, and she stood before him.Like this they were close to the same height, though she had the tiniest advantage.
Her shirt hung open since he’d unbuttoned it.The plain, serviceable bra suited her and reminded him that everything positive in his life had come on the other side of pain.And none of it ever got rid of the pain.It was there, just like his physical scars.
