Chapter 5
Shock & Pleasure
Arielle Nygard
My heart is pounding like a jackhammer as I race to Sam’s house. I’m in such a state that I take a wrong turn and get myself completely lost. Panic starts to rise in my chest. I pull over and tamp it down. I can’t fall apart right now.
“Thank God for GPS,” I say to empty air as I fish my cell phone from my purse. I open up Google Maps and type in Sam’s address. I’m at least fifteen minutes away. Before I start driving again, I call Sam back.
His voice is full of concern. “Arielle, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I just got a bit lost. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Okay, no problem,” he says with an audible sigh of relief. “We’re just getting home now. Austin is fine. There’s no need to panic.” He’s clearly deciphered the reason for my delay.
“Or to rush. Drive safely. We’ll see you when you get here.”
“Thanks, Sam.” I hang up, open up Google Maps, and set the phone in a holder on the dash. I follow the directions carefully and finally emerge in a familiar neighborhood. I hold it together, refusing to let the panic set in, but it’s bubbling just beneath the surface of the stability that I’m desperately clinging to. I park my car in Sam’s drive and take a few calming breaths before I get out. Although I have a key to the house, I decide to knock instead.
When Sam opens the door, with Austin beside him, all I can see is my son. I try to keep my emotions in check and only partly succeed. I drop to my knees and wrap Austin in a hug. He hates it, and squirms until I release him. “Sorry, buddy,” I say, a slight hitch in my voice, and let him go. He immediately turns around and heads into the house.
Sam offers me a hand and helps me up. “Come see,” is all he says. He leads me to the sunroom and at the sight before me, my mouth drops open. The coffee table is strewn with playing cards. Austin is enthusiastically shuffling them around while Munchkin bats playfully at any that come within reach of his paw. Despite the stress and worry of the last hour, I can’t help but laugh. Not only is my son safe, but he’s having a good time.
“Thank you for finding him,” I say to Sam. “I don’t even want to think about what could have happened.”
“Does he do this often?”
“No. I mean, he’s done this before, just after Steve died, but it’s not a regular thing. I think it’s his way of coping with change.”
“I guess his mom going on a date is a big change for him,” Sam says, smiling as he watches Austin and Munchkin play.
Without thinking, I rest my head against Sam’s shoulder and sigh. “I suppose it is.” Sam puts an arm around my waist, and we enjoy a few moments of peace.
Eventually, I pull away. I know it’s wrong of me to seek comfort from Sam. I rejected him, my conscience telling me that being with a thief is unacceptable, and even so, he came to my rescue, found Austin, and kept him not only safe but happy as well. And now I’m leaning on him again, literally and figuratively, to help ease my pain.
“I’m sorry. We’re imposing,” I say and step into the room. Sam lets me go without protest, but Austin isn’t nearly as compliant. I crouch down next to him. Munchkin braves the chaos of the coffee table and comes over and rubs his soft furry head against my cheek. I oblige him. “We’ll be out of your way soon,” I tell the cat. To Austin I say, “Hey bud, it’s time to go home. It’s late and you need to get some sleep.”
Austin ignores me and wriggles out of my reach. “I know you don’t want to go, but this isn’t our home.” He slaps his hands loudly on the table and both the cards and the cat jump. Munchkin gives my boy a look of disgust and stalks off to Sam, who’s still standing in the doorway.The tantrum escalates into screaming, and I finally back off. It’s over as soon as it began, but I don’t know what to do now.
“Would it be easier to move him once he’s asleep?” Sam asks quietly. “I could get a blanket and pillow for the couch.”
“I don’t want to be an imposition. You’ve already done more than enough for us.”
“You aren’t an imposition.” He is back a minute later with a pillow and a fluffy blanket. He walks to the couch, plops the pillow down, and turns to Austin. “Hey, Austin, why don’t you come and lie down. I bet you’re tired.”
Austin immediately stops fussing and lies down on the couch. “That’s a good boy,” Sam says in a soothing voice. He covers my child with the blanket, tucking it around him, and Munchkin settles himself at Austin’s feet. There’s not a murmur of discontent from my son as Sam ruffles his hair.
“Your mom and I will be right outside, and Munchkin will come find us if you need us.” In response, Austin blinks once and then closes his eyes.
In the hallway, I sag with relief and wariness. As the adrenaline leaves me, I let out a sob.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s all over.” Sam wraps his arms around me in a comforting hug. A small part of my brain tells me to pull away, but I don’t listen. I’m tired of being strong, of holding it together. I lean into his embrace, into his muscled chest, and rest my cheek against the solid thumping of his heart as the emotions are released in a flood of tears. He holds me as I cry, saying nothing but never wavering.
When I’m all cried out, I pull back, just slightly, and lift my tear-stained face. He looks down at me and I can see tenderness, pure and clear, shining from his dark eyes. My heart swells and I can’t help myself. I slide a hand behind his head and pull his face down to mine.
His lips are soft and warm, and they brush over mine with exquisite care. His arms tighten around my back, pulling me closer. My tongue teases his lips and when they part, I don’t hesitate to enter.His tongue touches mine and liquid fire races through my blood. My fingers tangle in his hair as I cling to his strong frame. He breaks the kiss and his lips brush along my jaw, down my neck, nudging the straps of my dress to the edges of my shoulders and tracing my bare skin. I’m still in the dress I wore to our date, and the memory pulls me back to the reality of what’s going on.
I gather enough breath to speak. “Sam...”
