Page 146 of Smoke and Glitter

"I fucking love you," I say. "I've loved you while I've been furious with you. I've loved you from another country. I've loved you while actively wishing I could stop, which has been deeply inconvenient."

His laugh comes out rough. I take one step toward him. "I don't want to stop."

Sam doesn't move, so I take another. By the time I'm close enough to touch him, his hands are clenched at his sides.

"You're standing very still."

"You asked me to let you choose."

"I chose."

His eyes close for half a second. When they open, there is nothing cautious in them anymore.

"Come here."

I do.

His hand closes around the back of my neck as he kisses me, and the first contact wipes out every clever thing I might have said next. I catch the front of his shirt in both fists and pull him against me. Sam makes a low sound into my mouth that sends heat straight through me.

I've missed the weight of him, his beard against my skin, the way his hand fits around my waist when he wants me closer than close already allows.

My back reaches the wall beside the door, and Sam stops himself before I do. He stays close, both of us breathing too hard.

"Still yes?"

I slide my hand into his hair. "Very."

His mouth is back on mine.

After that, we make a terrible job of getting anywhere gracefully. One of his shoes nearly takes me out, and I laugh against his mouth. Sam laughs too until I drag my teeth over his lower lip and the sound disappears.

His hand slides beneath my dress, warm against my back, and every place he touches feels horribly, perfectly familiar. When his mouth moves to my neck, I tip my head without thinking. His beard scrapes across my skin before his lips close over the spot beneath my ear that has always made coherent thought optional, and my fingers tighten in his hair when his breathing changes against me.

We reach the bed eventually, though calling what happens between the door and mattress walking would be generous. He catches me around the waist when I nearly trip over his discarded shoe, pulls me back against him and kisses me until I'm laughing again.

"Your hotel is trying to kill me."

"My hotel?"

"Your shoe, then."

"You're the one who kicked it."

"Details."

Sam kisses the complaint out of my mouth.

At the edge of the bed, his hands settle around my waist and the pace changes. He looks at me before touching the hem of my dress.

I catch his face between my hands. "Stop being so careful."

His eyes search mine. "Tell me what you want."

There is no hesitation in the question, and I feel that everywhere.

"I want you. I want this. If I want something different, I'll tell you."

He nods once. "Okay."