I hesitate. I'm worried he'll be angry with me if I tell him I risked angering Robin even more by admitting my relationship with Sam. But he won't understand that telling Robin what he wants to hear doesn't work with him. That even if he wouldn't have been set off to choke me, it wouldn't have stopped him from forcing himself on me, and I'd rather be dead than live through that again.
"He, uh... he found my scar... He was so damn happy that itdidscar - that I had his mark to remind me that I'd always be his no matter what I do..."
I feel Sam's entire body stiffen beneath me, his jaw clenched in quiet fury, and I pull back so I can look at him. Even in contained rage, the man is positively breathtaking.
"He heard me scream for you, you know, when you ran past the alley... He's beenfollowingus,Sam, for I don't know how long. Maybe he saw us leave the bar last night. Maybe he was even around the hotel," I realize, my breathing picking up dangerously.
Sam grits his teeth, but his hand soothes up and down my back, reminding me that Robin is locked up, and I am here, safe, with Sam. "He's been fuckingfollowing you?"
"Us," I correct him. Sure, he was followingme, but I've barely been apart from Sam since we arrived in Miami, and Robin has certainly noticed. He made that clear. And Sam needs to understand that with Robin, there is a danger in being with me. A danger in loving me. One that may never go away.
"What did he ask you?" Sam asks again.
I take a deep breath. "He asked if anyone else has seen his mark. Ifyouhad... if Ifucked youeven though I belong to him."
Sam tenses even more. "And you told himthe truth?" he grates incredulously.
"I couldn't bear to deny it, Sam - to give him the satisfaction. Of thinkin' I'd still only been with him, that I stillbelongto him. I-" I choke back a sob,"I couldn't."
Sam hauls me to his chest, furiously kissing my hair, and I'm grateful. He understands. He just gets me in some unfathomable way. "You'renothis, Ror," he growls intently. "And nothing he can say or do can ever change that. I'm never going to let him fucking get near you again. I swear to fucking God."
I kiss him. The truth is, I appreciate his sentiment, and in a primitive way, it turns me on even more. But the rational side of me is more frightened by it than anything. I don't want Sam risking himself for me. Not ever. Not like Cam. And tonight he got into a fight because of me. Any number of terrible things could have happened, and they would have been my fault.
Sam slips his tongue into my mouth and suddenly Robin is far from my mind. I'm back in the here and now with the man I love, who by some miracle or curse, loves me back. I deepen the kiss and reposition myself so that I lay fully on top of him. I can feel hislack of restraintthrough our underwear and I'm desperate to prove - to him, to myself, perhaps even to Robin - who it is I actuallydobelong to. Sam groans deep in his throat before tearing his mouth from mine.
"You're killing me, baby," he rasps, and I realize he still thinks we shouldn't do this tonight. I slip my hand between us, over his boxer briefs, and am once again struck by the sheer size of him. I both hear and feel his sharp intake of breath. "Fuck,Ror..."
"Sam... I need you. I ain't his. I'myours. And I need you to remind me of that,right now," I plead.
And that is all the encouragement he needs. He resumes his perfect kiss, rolling until I am pinioned beneath him, and my legs wrap around his waist automatically, my welcoming thighs cradling his deliciously narrow hips.
I moan.Yes. This is what I need. To give myself again to the only man I've ever given myself to. For him to take his possession of me. To quell the secret fears lurking deep within my darkest thoughts that whisper Robin is right - that a part of me will always belong to him no matter what I do.
"You. Are.Mine," Sam growls between kisses. "You hear me, baby girl? And I'm fucking yours. For as long as you'll have me."
****
It's so late, and even as I start to doze, I realize that Sam lies wide awake, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling, looking down at me every now and then, perhaps to see if I've fallen asleep.
Finally, sleep does come, and I drift into blissful dreams of beaches and hotel suites. And Sam.
Sam and I walk along the beach, but someone is following us. I don't know who, and I don't even know how I know, because I see nothing to substantiate my suspicions. It's just a feeling. A scary, unsettling feeling that someone - someone dangerous - is watching us from the shadows.
Somehow I know that I am the target. The target of what, I don't know, but I am who he wants to hurt. I try to get Sam to go somewhere else, out of the line of fire, so to speak, but he won't leave me.
It's like he doesn't believe the danger is real, or he's just so sure he can handle it that he doesn't take it seriously. But I, on the contrary, am terrified.
The beach morphs into a city street, and we continue to walk. Sam takes my hand, and my eyes dart from corner to corner, but can't find the danger I'm certain still follows us. I try to pull my hand back, and vaguely I think I'm being foolish - that I'm just once again worried that Chelsea will see us being too friendly and target me for some stupid, malicious, sophomoric revenge. I tell myself I can handle Chelsea. That Sam was right, this is just my paranoia, not actual danger.
And then I am yanked into an alley and Sam has magically vaporized.
"Hello, sweetheart," Robin drawls. My stomach plummets and dread fires straight to my heart.
"No!Sam!" I call before I can stop myself, but it's too late, Robin heard me.
"Sam?!" Robin snarls with disgust. He shoves me up against the brick wall and pain shoots throughout my entire body.
Please! No!
