Page 79 of Masters of Control

A knock on her door made her jump.

Oh, no.

He wouldn’t have… would he?

Sam ran over to the door as quietly as she could and looked through the peephole. Shit. Shit. Shit. He would. Q was standing outside her door looking absolutely delicious in a forest-green button-down shirt she could see because he’d opened his coat. She looked down at her stained sweatshirt and yoga pants, her hand flying up to touch the messy bun in her hair.

It wasn’t an artfully messy bun. It was a messy messy bun.

Shit!

She barely dared breathe as she tried to figure out what to do.

He knocked again, and she jumped.

Dammit, he was supposed to have texted! Or called! She was supposed to have had time to get herself together before he saw her!

“Sam, I know you’re standing on the other side of the door. Let me in.” Amusement threaded through his words.

She’d stopped breathing almost as soon as he’d started talking.

Dammit. How did he know she was there?

She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she could run and change fast enough.

“Sam.” He knocked again. “Let me in.”

His voice was shifting, lowering, moving into Dom territory.

Crap.

“Now.”

She groaned inwardly, even as she reached for the lock and flipped it open, her other hand turning the door’s knob.

As she opened the door, her head ducked down. She didn’t want to see his expression when he got his first look at her, especially considering how pathetic she felt. Dammit. She should have at least run to change her shirt before letting him in.

“There you are.” The deep satisfaction in his voice gave no hint of disappointment or judgment. He sounded thrilled to see her, like it didn’t matter about her hair or the stain on her shirt or anything else. Sam’s head jerked up just as he stepped in to wrap his arms around her.

It felt so good to be in his arms again. Tears sprang into her eyes as he hugged her tight, inhaling like he was breathing her in.

Oh God. I hope I don’t smell.

Whatever cologne he was wearing smelled fantastic. It wasn’t fair that he looked and smelled so good. She clung to him. Partly because she didn’t want to lose the sensation of being held so closely and partly because if he was holding her, he couldn’t see her.

Eventually he pulled away. Sort of. Enough to get her turned around and moving into the apartment so they weren’t standing in her doorway. Sam self-consciously rubbed at the spot on her shirt. Maybe if she covered it with her hand, he wouldn’t notice.

“I missed you this week,” he said, leading her over to the couch. Even though it was her home, it felt completely natural to let him take the lead.

Yeah. She was feeling super subby today. Subby and in need of a lot of reassurance. The hug had been a good start, but she needed more. She also needed to explain herself. Even though she understood some of her actions better, she wasn’t looking forward to it.

She had a reason for why she’d interviewed for the job and hadn’t immediately turned them down, but she didn’t have a good reason for not telling Q about any of it.

“I missed you, too.” Honesty was the best policy, right? Especially since, while she hadn’t actually lied to him, she hadn’t told him everything. Honestly and transparency. That’s what Morgan, Kincaid, and Amy had all said. Kincaid had also suggested talking to Angel, which Sam had done, but Angel’s advice had been, ‘just talk to him, then if he’s still cranky let him put it in your butt.’

Which… not that Sam objected to the idea, she just didn’t see how it would solve anything.

To her surprise, Q didn’t sit down on the couch. Instead, he came to a halt directly in front of it, then turned to her. What he thought of her messy hair and sweatshirt she had no idea, because he was looking straight in her eyes instead of anywhere else. He let go of her hand and grasped the bottom of her sweatshirt.