It grates on my nerves.
The way she keeps saying his name puts me on edge—I’m so glad you know his name.
I look from this woman to Sam, who gives me an apologetic smile.
“Tiffany, this is—” Sam stops talking asTiffanyplaces her hand on his shoulder and runs her fingers along his arm.
I see red.
My body goes rigid as I watch this woman touch Sam. My Sam.
Who is this woman? And why does she think it’s ok to touch MY DATE?
I want to rip her hand off his body.
I want to stab my fork in her eye.
I clench my hands on top of the table, so I don’t do something stupid.
Before I can say anything, Sam grabs hold ofTiffany’swrist and removes her hand from his arm. His jaw is tight, and his nostrils flare slightly.
“Don’t do that, Tiffany.”
“But Sam,”Tiffanywhines, “I’ve missed you.”
Did she just whine? God, she's annoying.
“And you,” his voice is stern as his eyes narrow, “are interrupting my date.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard this tone from Sam. It would terrify me if it were directed at me. But right now? My core heats.
Tiffanyglances over her shoulder and eyes me.
I hate to admit that she’s gorgeous, with dazzling blue eyes and high cheekbones. I feel slightly self-conscious about myself with this woman, who could definitely be a model. Before she shifts her attention back to Sam, Tiffany’s lips curl in disgust at whatever she finds in me.
“I miss you, Sam. I want another chance.” She’s back to her purr. At least she isn’t touching him again.
Another chance? They dated?
Sam ignores her and watches me. He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his.
Uncomfortable with this situation, I want to pull away from him when he gently pulls my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
Sam’s eyes are fixed on mine as he says, “You need to leave, Tiffany. I’m not interested in anything with you.” He kisses my knuckles again and smiles that full-watt smile at me, and the fucking dimple makes my breath catch.
I relax a little as he continues to watch me until she finally gets the hint, huffs out her distaste at being rejected, and stalks off.
“You know I can’t stop thinking about that night over Thanksgiving.” Sam plants another kiss on my knuckles. “You writhing below me.” His eyes are black, and his smile turns wicked.
He’s trying to take my mind offTiffany.
“Sam, who was that?”
“She doesn’t matter.”
I glare at him.
“Someone I briefly dated a long time ago,” he sighs. Sam leans back in his chair, but keeps his hand wrapped around mine.
“You’re not interes—”
