“Sam.” Reaching out, I pull him into my arms, holding him tight, and his big, hard body relaxes into my embrace with a sigh.I don’t know what to say, but I want him to know I’m here for him.
“He’s just finishing up his chemo treatment. That’s why I left early last time. He’s being difficult and wanting to do this alone. Alec is having none of it and has been there every step of the way, as have I. Bas thinks he’s protecting us by trying to limit what we have to see or endure, but insteadhe’s driving us insane with worry. I’ve been spending a lot of time there.”
Pulling back slightly, he rubs his hand down his face and hangs his head low. “You’ve been on my mind. A lot.” He gazes up at me, hurt and worry swimming in his eyes.
“Sam, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up in me and wondering why you were being aloof. I had no clue.”
“Stop.” He lightly kisses my forehead. “Have I told you how glad I am that you’re here?”
His lips skate along the side of my ear, trailing down my neck then stopping at the juncture of my neck and collarbone, where he licks and sucks that tender spot, doing all kinds of gooey things to my insides.
To prevent my pleasurable moan from escaping, I bite my bottom lip. His tongue leisurely traces my pulse point, which quickens at his languorous care.
Out of sheer desire and a serious lack of control, I lose the battle. With my hands latched on to his solid, contoured sides, I emit a low, husky moan. His tongue keeps at its seduction with licks and sweeps up the column of my neck.
With each sweep, peck, and bite, I’m loud with pleasurable abandon. “God, Sam, yes.”
Humming his appreciation, his warm lips hurriedly make their way to mine. With a nip to my bottom lip followed by a lick, his mouth covers mine, his insistent tongue teasing the seam of my lips. Our kiss is urgent and voracious, like I’m his last meal.Whoa.Heat flames my insides.
His hands grip my hips, firm and sure, guiding me without ever breaking our rhythm. In one fluid move, he draws me onto his lap, straddling him. The shift steals my breath. When I sink against him, the heat of his body and the hard, insistent press between my thighs make everything inside me tighten and ache.
His take-charge confidence and the raw heat in his touch strip away the last of my restraint. I move against him, slow at first, then bolder, rocking along the hard length of him. The thin cotton of my leggings might as well be nothing as every inch of him presses through, hot and unyielding.
A broken sound escapes me—a whimper, breathy and helpless—as the need takes over. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. And I don’t.
“Olivia.” He releases a low, pained groan into my mouth, his fingers tightening on my bottom.
“Sam.” My drawn-out, breathless moan slides into his mouth.
Subtly but almost instantly, his kiss morphs into dreamy, soft sweeps and caresses. Less adamant, but no less intense. This is more than a kiss. He’s making love to my mouth.
My hands slip to his waist, moving deftly for his button and fly. I need him. Inside me. Now.
Sam swiftly lifts me, palming my ass, our tongues still tangled as he moves across the loft and lays us down on the bed. “Tell me to stop.” His lips move against mine. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to control myself any longer.”
“Don’t stop.”
I want this.
I want him.
My encouragement unleashes the animal in him. Within seconds, he pulls his shirt over his head, then drops his jeans and boxers.
My breath stalls at the beauty of him, naked. He’s beyond gorgeous, his hard, sculpted body definitely worthy of worship. While I peruse his impressive frame, he only has eyes for me. His heated stare only makes me hotter, my skin prickling to be touched, sucked, and bitten.
And his tattoos. God, they are glorious. Dark ink contrasts with his bronzed skin, the soft swirls and curls of the script standing out against the hard ridges and contours of his defined body. Both the delicately detailed cabbage on his pec and the black words on his ribs are taunting me.
In one swift move, he has my leggings on the floor and is working to unbutton my blouse. The enormity of what we’re doing seeps through my desire-filled haze, and self-consciousness skitters like an unwanted chill over my bare flesh. The curtains are open, bright daylight streaming into the room.
I shiver. “Ah, Sam.” I clear my throat in an attempt to sound more certain. “Can you shut the curtains or…somehow make it darker?”
No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I recognize the absurdity of what I’ve said. I am confident in who I am. I love my body, but I’d be silly to deny my hesitation.
Bared to him, I’m shy and doubtful of my appeal to him, this perfect, younger, sexy man. Yes, he’s made no secret of his interest in me, but things get real, fast, when one is naked.
My body is not perfect. I have stretch marks, areas that should be firmer, and scars—all which I’m proud of. Sure, if all things were equal, I’d want my younger body in a heartbeat, but my body is my storybook.
My hardships, loves, losses, and triumphs have been lived in my bones, my skin. Even with the end of my marriage and the uncertainty that looms ahead, I wouldn’t change a thing. No regrets.
