5. Locked In
5. Locked In
~ SAM ~
I reached for that shirt I’d given her and slid my hands under the hem, letting a low rumble putter in my chest because her skin was hot underneath it. She hadn’t been out here long enough for her body temp to drop, and the clothes were doing their job.
But my hands were cold from being in the air, so she sucked in when I touched her sweet waist.
“That’s it,” I growled. “You feel me, Bridget?”
She nodded. I leaned down to kiss her deeply but slowly, sliding my hands up and lifting the shirt until I could cup her ribs, letting my thumbs play along the bottom of her bra, but waiting for her to remember that I was here, and wake up.
Would she want me? Or would she want to disappear under a blanket again?
It took her a few moments, but her kiss warmed and she traced my tongue with hers. Her shaking hands sliding up my arms to lace behind my neck.
“You with me, Bridget?” I breathed against her lips.
“I’m with you.”
I rolled my hips and pressed myself against her. “Do you want me?”
“I always want you.”
“God, you’re amazing.”
She spluttered a nervous laugh, but it cut off when I pressed my erection—still swathed in my sweat pants—hard against her.
Her head tipped back and I pressed the advantage, leaning her against that wall, pinning her there with my body, letting my hands slide up under the band of her bra and cup both breasts together.
Her nipples hardened against my chilled palms, though my hands were warming quickly.
She arched into the touch and her kiss grew harder.
I was panting already—but she wasn’t. And I didn’t want to push her. Didn’t want this to turn into something that added to her fear.
Should I take her inside? I felt like we needed to replace some of these memories and experiences with good ones—it was a tip from her psychologist. But was this the time, when she’d been startled like that?
Uncertain how she was feeling, I let one hand drag down her body, gripping and sliding slowly so she had plenty of time to stop me. But when I reached the waistband of her pants and slid my fingers underneath it, over her hips, nudging them down, she didn’t freeze up.
She arched her back off the wall to give me more room.
Growling and dropping the other hand too, grabbing her ass inside the stretchy pants with both hands, teasing her with my fingers, then pushing down further so I had to lean into her to get the pants past her hips and down her thighs, until they were slack enough to fall on their own.
There was an awkward little dance we always had to do at this point unless I was bending her over something—to get one of her feet free of the pants. But she shimmied with me, pushing down my waistband and pulling me free of my sweats as I slid down her body to reach for her foot. Thankfully, I didn’t have to stop kissing her for more than a few moments before I could yank the pant leg off over her shoe and straighten again.
Bridget threw herself into me and I caught her, pressed her back against that wall again and pulled her legs up, bending her knees, hooking them over my hips and grinding against her. I knew she loved that, but I hadn’t anticipated how cold the wall would feel against her skin—she jerked and hissed, her breath catching as her head dropped back.
But instead of shrinking away from me, she used her leverage against the wall to grind back against me so hard it was almost painful. I slid against her—marveling that she was already wet for me—and let a low, deep groan roll in my chest as we moved together, finding our places. I braced my feet in the dirt and held her ass in one hand, cupping the other under her knee and pulling that leg higher to open her against me so when I rolled my hips, I drew right against her, hard .
Pulling my head back so I could meet her eyes, my jaw went slack at the sight. Her hair was a mess and some of it sticking to the wall. Her mouth open and lips slack as I rubbed myself on her. Her body trembling.
She arched against me again, but a sound from across the road echoed through the night, and for a moment she tensed, her head turning towards those lights that we couldn’t see on the other side of the tree. But I could feel her thinking—
“Bridget,” I rasped. Her head snapped back around and her eyes, wide, locked on mine. “I’m here. I’m here. I got you.”
She nodded quickly and licked her lips, blinking. Obviously trying to refocus.
“Do you want to go back in—”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, her eyes still locked on mine. “No, Sam. I want… I want you. Here.”
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I rasped, sliding against her again and again, almost taking her, teasing her. “I’m here, babe. I got you—nothing else matters, right?”
“Nothing,” she whispered.
I passed over her core again and her chin rose, her eyes widening. Her hands had been laced behind my neck, but she slid one into my hair and grabbed a fistful, pulling me down.
I took her mouth with a muttered curse, then kissed my way down to suck on her neck, burying my face where her neck met her shoulder, scraping teeth, laving tongue, fighting to keep myself from pressing her too hard—and still I made her gasp.
“Oh, fuck, Sam—”
Holding her against me, I plunged into her in one, forceful thrust.
Bridget made a sweet, blissful sound as I groaned, then bit down on her shoulder and we began to move.
She yanked at my clothes, pulling my shirt higher on my body to get her hands underneath it and the chill of the cold air made me brace, a shocking sensation against my skin.
I was so hot for her, my body steamed. She plunged both hands into my hair, pulled my head back up and dove into the kiss as I took her again, and again, and again, our rhythm increasing with every thrust.
“Sam… Sam.”
“I’ve got you, babe. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you—oh fuck!”
She tightened on me with every word, her head dropping back again and her breath growing sharp. She pressed back, riding against me, harder, faster, and I could feel her rising towards that peak, her small cries growing higher and higher.
“We can do this, Bridge,” I gasped. “Together. We can get through anything—”
“Just never stop banging me— Oh god—”
I lifted her knee higher, forcing her wide, and began to pound. Bridget threw her head back and cried out—so I dove for her mouth, swallowing her cries as she climbed, climbed, climbed—and tumbled over that cliff into freefall, dragging me with her as her body pulsed around me and I spasmed with the sheer ecstasy of having her.
Both of us arched, shaking, jerking, my feet sliding in the dirt as I leaned into her, body twitching with the electric jolts of my orgasm… until we both slumped, limp and ragged.
I had to lean into the wall, press her whole body against it, scramble to keep my feet for a second. But then we were there, pressed together, skins humming, breathing labored, and hearts full.
Neither of us spoke for a few seconds. My head spun with everything I wanted to tell her. Every reassurance… and with heartbreak that she couldn’t be free. But in the end, words weren’t needed.
I tucked her head against my shoulder, picked her up, and carried her into the house and into the shower, where I reminded her that she wasn’t alone in any of this. And she never would be.
After we ate and crawled back into bed, Bridget didn’t lay down immediately. She stayed on her side, propped up on her elbow, staring at my face, her hand on my chest.
“You okay?” I asked her.
She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “I am. And I’m… I’m always shocked by how good you are, Sam. I mean, I know it. But it still surprises me sometimes. Why don’t you give up on me?”
I frowned. “Why the hell—”
“Don’t do that,” she said quietly. “Don’t pretend people don’t leave each other every day, because they do. And for things that are a lot less fucked up than this,” she said bluntly, indicating herself.
I sighed, and propped up too—then changed my mind, rolled her onto her back, and pinned her down, laying over her, hands in her hair, and staring straight into her eyes.
“Bridget, you were made for me. I’m not giving you up, ever.”
“But if I’m a basket case—”
“You aren’t insane. You’re afraid. I told you… we’ll make our own traditions. We’ll find a way through this. I know we will.”
Tears threatened, but she blinked them back, clinging to me. “The thing is,” she whispered, “I thought it would get better when he was dead. I thought I’d feel this less. But it’s not happening, Sam. I’m getting worse. I hate saying that, but it’s true. It’s getting worse.”
Oh God, help me.
I stroked her hair back from her face and wiped the single tear that escaped with my thumb. “We’ll figure it out, babe. It’s been a helluva year.”
“It was a helluva year for you, too, and you’re doing great!”
I huffed and shook my head. “We’re in this together. We’ll figure it out. Don’t get in your own head—keep talking to me. I can’t help if I don’t know.”
“But what if you can’t help anyw—”
“Bridget, God made you for me, and He made me for you, too. I can help. I know I can. So relax. Just breathe. Tomorrow’s another day. And I promise not to send you on a run in Christmas season ever again—okay?”
Her lips tipped up into a smile, though her eyes welled again. “Okay.”
I leaned down and kissed her, and I prayed. I prayed hard.
Because I meant what I said… but I was scared shitless because the ball was already rolling on my plan and what if I’d judged it wrong? What if I was only going to hurt her while I was trying to help? Then where would we be?
Help me, God. Fucking help. Please.