Chapter Six | Gus #3
"I'm not yours."
"Not yet." I brushed my lips across hers, the barest contact, a question. "But you want to be. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you're shaking."
"You're awfully confident."
"Am I wrong?"
She didn't answer. Just closed the last inch between us and kissed me.
Soft at first—an exploration, a question she answered by parting her lips. I took the invitation, deepening the kiss as my hands slid into her hair, angling her head. She tasted like mint and want, her tongue meeting mine with a boldness that sent blood rushing south.
I walked her backward until she hit the counter, lifted her onto it, stepped between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulled me flush against her, and I groaned at the contact. Heat and softness and perfect fit.
"Gus," she gasped against my mouth as I kissed down her neck, finding that sensitive spot below her ear. "We should—this isn't—"
"Tell me to stop," I murmured against her skin. "Say the word and I walk away."
She threaded her fingers through my hair, tugged hard enough to make me meet her gaze. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown, lips swollen from my kisses.
"I can't," she whispered.
"Can't what?"
"Can't tell you to stop." She kissed me again, fierce and desperate. "Can't stop wanting you. Can't stop thinking about—"
I kissed her hard, swallowing whatever she'd been about to say.
We were past words now, communicating in touches and gasps and the slide of hands under clothing.
Her fingers found skin beneath my shirt, nails dragging across my back.
I pulled her closer, grinding against her, both of us breathing hard.
"Bedroom," I managed. "We should—"
"Can't walk that far." She was already working at my belt.
"Sam." I caught her hands, held them still even though it killed me. "Not here. Not like this."
"Why not?" Frustration and arousal roughened her voice. "We're both adults. We both want—"
"I know what we both want." I rested my forehead against hers, fighting for control. "But you said 'we can't' before you kissed me. And I need to know you're sure. That you want this for the right reasons, not just because you're stressed or the wedding's a mess or—"
"Or because I've been fantasizing about you for three days?" She pulled back to stare at me, her expression fierce. "Because I can't stop thinking about your hands and your mouth and what you'd feel like inside me?"
My control snapped. I kissed her again, hard and claiming, one hand sliding under her sweatshirt to cup her breast through her bra. She arched into my touch, moaning into my mouth.
Then sanity returned in a cold rush.
I pulled back, breathing hard, my hands shaking as I gripped the counter on either side of her.
"Go," I said roughly.
"What?" She was dazed, beautiful, thoroughly kissed.
"Go to bed, Sam." I stepped back, putting distance between us before I gave in and took what we both clearly wanted. "Before I do something we might regret."
"I won't regret it."
"Maybe not tonight." I turned away, gripped the edge of the sink. "But tomorrow? When you're trying to manage a wedding and I'm trying to cook and we both know you're leaving in two days? When the heat of the moment's passed and reality sets in?"
"Gus—"
"I need you to be sure." I faced her again, let her see the want and the restraint warring in my expression. "All in, no hesitation. Because once we cross that line, Sam, I'm not going back. And I need to know you won't either."
She slid off the counter, adjusted her sweatshirt with shaking hands. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, and it took everything in me not to reach for her again.
"You're right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"Don't apologize for wanting me." I softened my voice. "Just figure out what you really want. What you're willing to risk for it."
She nodded, not meeting my gaze. Turned toward the door.
"Sam."
She paused, turned back.
"For what it's worth?" I held her stare. "I'm already sure. Have been since that first night when you moaned over my soup. I just need you to catch up."
A small smile curved her lips. "Goodnight, Gus."
"Goodnight."
I studied her until she disappeared up the stairs, then turned back to the wedding cake. My hands were still shaking. My body was still hard, aching with unfulfilled desire.
But I'd made the right call.
When—if—Sam came to me—I needed her to be all in. No hesitation. No doubts.
I finished decorating the cake as dawn crept through the windows, placing each black rose with meticulous care. The final tier was a cascade of dark blooms edged in gold, dramatic and gothic and perfect for Raven's Halloween wedding vision.
Tomorrow, she and Blaze would cut into this cake, feeding each other for the cameras while their relationships crumbled around them. Tomorrow, Sam would orchestrate the perfect wedding for live TV.
And tomorrow night, after the guests left and the wedding party settled, if I was lucky, she'd come to me without hesitation.
I could wait one more day.
Even if it killed me.