His eyes chided her.
“Okay,” she conceded, “so I’ve been going through a rough spell. But it’ll pass.”
“Only if you make it pass, Susan. Burying the misery in a bottle will only make things worse. You have to find out what’s wrong with your life and take steps to correct it. Do you miss Dirk that much?”
“I don’t miss Dirk at all. I haven’t missed him since he left.”
“Then you’re lonely.”
“I’m not lonely. I have plenty of friends waiting to do things whenever I want. I could have gone out last night if I hadn’t made the mistake of deciding to wait for you to come.” She got to her feet. “That was abigmistake.” She started back toward Sam’s door.
He caught up with her in a second, easily matching her strides. “Why did you wait? I asked you out, and you turned me down. Forget the fact that I was called in to work. Did you think I had so little pride that I’d take the risk of getting shot down twice on the same day?”
“I thought you wanted me,” she said with her chin tipped up. “I guess I was wrong.”
“I do want you.”
“Strange way you have of showing it.”
Sam stopped in his tracks, grabbed handfuls of his hair and gave a loud growl of frustration. In the next instant, he captured Susan’s hand, surging ahead with her in tow. She tried to pull back, but she might as well have been handcuffed to him. He didn’t let up until he’d climbed the steps to the small deck off the kitchen and gone inside. Then he backed her into a corner, no more than a foot from the door. With the weight of his body immobilizing hers, he held her face in his hands and kissed her with every bit of the hunger she’d accused him of lacking.
“Once too often,” he growled into her mouth. “You’ve goaded me once too often.”
She tried to talk back, but he wouldn’t allow it. His mouth dominated hers, rendering any sound she tried to make little more than a moan.
Controlling her head with his kiss, he gave free reign to his hands. They slid down her neck, rolled around and over her breasts, and continued downward. With every touch, she burned hotter. She tried to stop him, tried to divert him, to regain a drop of the control she had so totally lost, but he was relentless in his quest. Before she could begin to adjust, his hands were in her sweatpants.
She wrenched her mouth free for a breath. “Sam!”
“Too late!” He caught her chin in one hand and recaptured her mouth at the same time that his fingers found the spot between her legs that was already wet with wanting him.
She moaned again when he stroked her more deeply. It was happening too fast. She had the dreadful fear of his possession being over before she’d been able to enjoy it.
“Wait,” she gasped. “Give me a minute.”
“Too late,” he repeated, and in the echo of his words came the rasp of his zipper.
She tried to capture his wrists, but he was too strong and he moved erratically as he worked himself free of his pants and pushed hers past her knees. When those same knees threatened to give way, she clutched his shoulders. In the next breath, his hands were on the backs of her thighs, spreading her legs and lifting her.
“Sam,” she whispered frantically.“Sam.”Her back hit the wall with the force of his thrust, and then he was inside, filling her to the limit, and she struggled to catch her breath.
Sam swore softly. His eyes were closed, his face buried in her hair. “Susan,” he whispered roughly, “Holy Mother…” He withdrew, then surged back, withdrew and surged back.
With a choked cry, Susan erupted into a powerful climax. She was still in its hold when, stroking her twice more, he came himself. His whole body stiffened. His breath was suspended in his lungs. He let it out slowly in a series of quiet gasps.
For a long time, neither of them moved. Neither spoke. They simply breathed and recovered and tried to figure out ways to repeat what they’d just been through.
Susan had never had as satisfying a climax. She wondered whether it was the novelty of Sam, or the fact that he was so different from the other men she’d known, or that he had taken her with a bit of force and a lot of conviction. One thing she had to say for him, he didn’t waffle.
Forehead against his shoulder, she smiled.
He felt it. “What?”
“Savannah thought you were the type to want privacy and the comfort of a bed.” She shot an amused glance toward the door, mere inches from her arm. “Guess she was wrong.” Still smiling, she drew back her head and caught his gaze. “So much for a slow hand.”
Beneath a damp forehead, Sam’s eyes sparkled. “You want a slow hand? I’ll give you a slow hand.” Cupping her bottom he held her to him and began to shuffle through the kitchen toward the stairs.
“You’re going to trip, Sam.”
