“Everything is dirty now,” she murmured. “I’ll have to strip it.”
“Leave it.”
She glared at him, pushing away from his chest as she sat up in his lap. “I can’t.”
His mouth flattened in disapproval, but he decided not to argue with her. He’d already pushed her past her threshold by refusing her shower and forcing her into the bed ‘dirty.’ She could have a reprieve before he did it again.
“What time is it?” Her voice was hoarse from sleep, and he found that he liked it. It felt intimate, having these first sleepy moments with her, hair mussed and voice scratchy. Few would have seen this side of her.
Logan has.
The thought made his muscles twitch.
“Ten in the evening,” he told her.
She tried to crawl out of his lap, but he held her fast with an arm slung around her waist. He ignored her withering look and her weak struggles.
“Will you let go of me?”
“I don’t want to.”
She growled, smacking him roundly in his shoulder, but it only made him grin. The more she struggled, the more friction she offered his stiffening cock. He could see the moment sherealized he was getting hard beneath her. She went rigid, scowling at him, but he could smell her answering arousal.
“Let go!”
He capitulated, not wanting to wind her up again when she’d already cried herself to sleep once. She hustled out of his lap, her knees buckling when she jumped down from the bed. He reached for her, but she caught herself against the nightstand. For a moment, she stayed there, both hands braced against the stand and her head ducked in defeat.
He took a breath to comfort her, but her phone went off before he could. It was just before her on the nightstand, lighting up the planes of her face in harsh relief. Sam could read the message from where he sat.
Sleep tight. I can’t wait to see you soon. Love you.
Her expression darkened into rage before the light of the phone faded, casting her in shadow.
“He’s cheating on me, isn’t he?” she asked without moving.
“Yes.”
She blew out a harsh breath and straightened, pushing her hair back from her face. “With Tiffany.”
He sensed it wasn’t a question, so he didn’t offer a reply.
“Thatbastard,” she hissed, hurling the phone across the room. It slammed into the big mirror over her dresser, shattering the glass before it fell. “How could he?”
She fisted her hands in her hair, breathing wildly, and her erratic behavior began to alarm him. He rose from the bed to stand before her, extricating her hands from her hair before she could pull out any of those precious, silken strands.
“I pay foreverything,” she said, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “I never complain when he drags me all over town tohang out with his stupid, miserable friends who can’t stand me. I never complain aboutanything.”
Sam pressed kisses over her knuckles, still holding her hands. Her gaze grew suddenly despondent. She looked past him at the rumpled dent in the bedding where he’d held her for hours as she dozed.
“But neither does he,” she murmured. “He would never have…”
“Forced you to confront your anxiety?”
She nodded, a muscle feathering in her jaw. “I still kind of want to punch you for that.”
He smiled. “You’ll hurt your hand.”
She gave him a withering look, but her eyes dropped to his mouth.
