That was the most intenseexperience of my life.I didn't think it could get much better thanthe first time we were together, or the couple of times after that.But each time I feel even less self conscious, and Sam has thisinsane way of making me forget everything other than my need forhim, andGod, theway he delivers...every girl should know how this feels.Thoughthe thought of him ever being with another girl sends nauseachurning in my gut.
I shake my head to rid itof these covetous thoughts.They have no place here.We are nottogether, we are friends.Friends who just had the most incrediblyintense sex imaginable.Is this what beingfriends with benefitsis?Becausethat sure was one hell of a benefit.
I stretch my overworkedmuscles and sigh in satisfaction.Sam rolls onto his side untilhe's gazing down at me.His fingers creep up my side, and lightlystroke my stomach, tracing around my navel.
"You're so incrediblybeautiful," he whispers, and I watch his gaze lazily sweep over mybody.
I take in his muscledform, the light sheen of sweat that speaks of the exertion thatbrought me to such ecstasy.I'll live my life knowing there willnever be anyone else for me, even if I can't have him for more thanan afternoon.He doesn't know the power he has.And I have to keepit that way, otherwise my plan will all be for nothing.If he knowshow I feel, he will push, and I will cave.And then he will beright back in the line of fire, risking his future, freedom, andlife for the crime of caring for me.
"So are you," I tell himhonestly, and he smirks.
"Guys aren't beautiful,"he replies.
I caress his stubbled jaw,trace the outline of the perfect structure of his cheekbones withthe pad of my thumb, and he turns into my palm."This one is," Ibreathe.
Sam presses a soft kiss tothe skin of my palm, and I push my hand into his hair, brushingthrough his disheveled locks until I'm playing with the short hairat his nape, running my fingers over the soft skin on the back ofhis neck.
"You better stop thatunless you're ready for round two," he warns playfully.
My gaze shoots to his, andI realize he meant it as a threat, not the promise I'd heard.Samchuckles when he registers my interest in what I'd obviouslythought was a proposition, and he shakes his head in fauxreprimand.
We watch each other forseveral long moments.I take in every plane and contour of hisperfect face, not sure if and when I'll have it so close to mineagain.He is positively riveting and I wish with everything I havethat I could read his mind right now.
Sam leans over me, brushingthe hair from my forehead, his knuckles lingering softly over mycheek."You know this isn't why I brought you here, right?I didn'tplan that.It wasn't—"
"I know, Sam," I cut himoff.How he can possibly worry that I might think he plotted to getme into bed—well, likethisanyway—I can't imagine.I know him better thanthat.HeknowsIknow him better than that.
Sam's lips twist up into asmall smile of contentment, and it makes everything right in myheart.
"I know you didn't planthat," I assure him."I know why you brought me here.And I knowyou were hesitant to even climb into bed with me.I know you savedme from that nightmare… I knowyou, Sam."
His small smile grows withmy words, and it's another heady feeling—to be the source of hisjoy.
"I know you'd neverpressure me for anything, Sam.You saw how tired I was and broughtme home so I could get some sleep.You always look out for me.You're a good friend."
I swear Sam flinches, butI'm sure I must have imagined it.But he blinks away from my gaze,and retracts his hand from my cheek.I can see him turningsomething over in his head, and I'm in some semblance of shock,confused as to how words I'd meant to reassure him were obviouslytaken differently than intended.
"Friend," he repeatsquietly.He turns the word over in his mouth, and even I can tastethe bitterness of it on his tongue.
Sam sits up, his eyeslocked on some random focal point on the far wall, and I clutch thebed sheet to my chest, sensing the sudden change in atmospherestrip away that freedom I'd felt only seconds earlier and shroudingit in shame.
Sam exhales, and I watchhis contentment desert him along with his breath.
"Friend?" he repeats again, this timea question.
"I..."I don't know whatto say.I can't think of a damn thing Icouldsay that will revert us backto the happy, playful people we were only momentsbefore.
Sam nods at the center ofthe bed where the indent of our fused bodies still wrinkles thesheets, and I swallow anxiously."Is that was that was?"he asks,"a fucking booty call?"His tone is lifeless, not even angry, just…defeated.He finally meets my gaze again, but now I look away.Idon't have an answer for him that will make any sense.Because thatwasnota bootycall, but I don't know what it actuallywas, because we are friends.We canonly be friends.I thought he understood that.
Sam jumps up from the bed,and tugs on his underwear and jeans.I sit up hastily, racking mybrain for the right words to fix this.But they don't exist, and soI refocus my energy on keeping my eyes dry.Sam's socks are on andhe's shoving his feet into his sneakers as his eyes search the roomfor the tee shirt I threw over the other side of the bed.I knowexactly where it is, but I don't speak up.I can't let him leave.Ineed more time.I need to think of something to say!
I open my mouth, but thenhe spots it, and I watch helplessly as he makes his way to theother side of my bed.But when I follow his gaze, I realize itwasn'thisteeshirt he found.It's Cam's.Linton Tornadoes numbertwenty-two.
It's folded neatly on mynight table, next to my bed where I spent recent nights hugging itto my chest and crying pitifully.Sam picks it up and glares at itwith an animosity that almost shocks me.
He licks his lip, his jawclenched tight—like he wants to say something cutting, but stopshimself.And I don't understand what's brought it on.I wassure he was over his jealousy of Cam, now that he knows he'sdead.
Sam puts the shirtcarefully back in its place and bends down to retrieve his own fromthe floor, slipping it over his head, his broad shoulders, andfinally covering my view of his sculpted body.
