Chapter Twenty-Four
Ciara
Sam is very quiet. Very, very quiet. To the point where I wonder if I took things too far. Except I don’t think I did. He matched my every move in the water, and though he doesn’t say a word I can feel his attention as I drive, his gaze a searing heat on my cheek.
Still he says nothing. All the way home. All the way to the door.
Even when I let us in and turn to face him in the dark hallway to find his eyes fixed on me.
“Okay, then,” I say when he doesn’t move, “…good night.”
It’s as though I’ve said the magic word. I barely take a step before his hand grasps mine. And in the next breath he pulls me back, catching me in his arms and holding me to him.
The restraint he’d been holding himself under for the whole journey snaps.
Our lips clash together as his hands delve under my shirt and mine go to his zipper, tugging it down as I slip a hand into his boxers and delight in his groan.
He’s hot and hard in my grasp, and he presses into my touch as I stroke until he tugs me away.
I push his trousers to his ankles, and he kicks them off before tugging my shorts down to join them. There’s a frantic energy to both of us and I stumble back, trying to move this to anywhere but the hallway, only to almost trip over the stairs.
“Mother of—”
He kisses me again, cutting me off, and wraps his arms under my butt, gripping me tight as he lifts me into the air and starts to climb, and okay, this works too.
I trail kisses down his neck as I spear my fingers into his hair, trusting him not to drop me as he carries me up and up and up.
He sets me back down when we reach the landing, his mouth returning to mine, and the breaths I manage to gasp in aren’t enough, but I don’t care.
I pull him closer, clutching handfuls of his T-shirt as I chant his name in my head, my only thought. My only need.
Sam. Sam. Sam.
Only maybe I’m not thinking at all. Maybe I’m saying it out loud because his whole body shudders as he pushes me back, moving me until I fall with a bounce onto the bed.
The carefully tucked sheets under me tip me off that we’re in his room, not mine, and I squirm against the unfamiliar mattress, getting more comfortable as he follows me down.
My heart hammers against my chest as he licks a path up my throat, his fingers playing with the thin strap of my bikini bottom until I feel like I might combust.
“Wait,” I gasp, and he stops immediately, pulling back to check on me. “Do you have a condom?”
“I have two.”
The snort I let out is so loud that he lets go of me altogether.
“I do,” he protests.
“Okay,” I say, fighting a smile. “You just sounded so proud of yourself.”
“We’re lucky I have them at all.”
“We need to work on your dirty talk,” I tease, only to fall silent when he reaches back to pull his T-shirt off.
“Get the damn condoms,” I mutter. He doesn’t need to be told twice, taking two strides across the room to grab them from his wallet. He moves back to the bed so fast he almost trips on the clothing he just discarded.
The weight of what’s happening hits me then, powerful enough that something threatens to burn behind my eyes, and I can only watch as he glides his hand across my cheek and down my neck, through the valley of my breasts and the soft curves of my stomach.
My stomach, which moves up and down with each panting breath, is starting to glisten with sweat from the heat of the room and our bodies and this thing between us that makes me burn all over.
I beg him silently to go all the way, to move down to where I need him most, but instead he lingers on the hem of my tank top, a question in his eyes.
I raise my arms in answer, and he pulls it off me and tosses it to the floor, where it’s joined immediately by my bikini top and bottom because I’m getting too hot and bothered with all this foreplay and take them off myself.
His lips twitch, the only sign that my impatience amuses him, as he leans in.
It’s baffling how addicted I’ve become to kissing Sam Avery. It helps that he’s good at it. Very, very good at it. But still, I know it’s strange that after only a handful of times we already have a rhythm. As though I’ve learned him over a lifetime.
Because that’s what it feels like. I know this man.
I’ve known him since the moment I laid eyes on him.
And it makes sense, doesn’t it? The way just being around him calmed my soul more than anything else.
The way, after a few weeks, the mere thought of him leaving made me feel as though the ground was splintering beneath me.
After a few minutes, he pulls away, pushing sweaty strands of hair from my face as he meets my gaze. His eyes glint in the dark, his pupils dilated. But the hungry, naked need in them softens as he stares down at me, gentling into a tenderness that steals the breath from my lungs.
“How do you like it?” he murmurs.
“Like this,” I tell him, watching as he loses the last of his clothes and rolls the condom on.
I sit up, pressing against his chest until he takes my place, sitting against the pillows as I swing my leg over his hips.
His head tips back; his eyes squeeze shut. A shift of our bodies and then I lower myself onto him, guiding him into me with small rocking motions that make him grunt.
“You good?” he asks hoarsely, and now I’m the one amused.
“Yeah. You sure you are?”
“Just thinking really hard about typefaces.”
“Maybe recite an ISBN or two?”
“That’s actually a massive turn-on for me.”
I ease down another inch more until I’m fully seated on his lap, and we pause, our bodies tensed, and all I can think of is him crouched in the grass with me.
Of his knee pressed against mine in Delaney’s.
Of the look on his face when I gave him the letter and the way he holds a pen and the smile he gets right before he laughs and how I think I could fall for him.
I really truly do.
And I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before.
“What?” he murmurs, and I shake my head.
“Nothing,” I whisper, even though it’s everything, and I push those thoughts to the side, focusing only on the here and now and the sensations rippling through me.
When I feel ready, I start to move, exploring what feels good. Sam seems content for me do so, letting me set the pace as his hands wander, caressing my body like it’s a thing to be worshipped.
I plant my hands on his shoulders, moving faster and faster until my muscles start to protest, and even then I keep going, even when the sweat slicks our bodies and our movements grow clumsy with heated desperation.
Sam watches me all the while with a look of pure concentration, as if he’s trying to commit every second of this to memory, and it’s only when his fingers find where our bodies are joined that I realize he’s studying me, learning what touches I like, what feelings I chase.
And what will send me over the edge.
My hips stutter as he takes over, and I gasp into his mouth as he kisses me with an intensity that sends sparks through my blood. His tongue moves hot and demanding against mine and I’m so close. So close.
“Ciara—fuck.” He breaks the kiss, swallowing hard as I grind down against him, shouting my release.
He barely lets me take a breath as his arms band around me, holding me tight as his hips move fast, powering into me until suddenly he stills.
His groan is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
Eventually, his hands move up and down to stroke my back, my hair. I pull back and lean in for one more kiss, soft and sweet, before he releases me.
I flop to the side, boneless as a rag doll beside him.
Sam seems to feel the same way.
He collapses onto the bed, one hand on his stomach as he stares at the ceiling. I stare at his profile, basking in the afterglow, in just being next to him, and when I reach out a finger to trail a pattern down his arm, his head tilts toward mine.
“I think we’re both really good at that,” I tell him.
“Ciara.”
“What? We are. We—”
I shriek before dissolving into laughter as he rolls over until he’s on top of me.
“Two condoms?” I tease, and he just dips his head to mine and kisses me all over again.
Sleep is for the weak.
I turn away from the morning sun, nestling into the pillow as Sam shifts beside me. He doesn’t like it when I try to move away from him, that much I’ve learned, and his grip around my hip tightens, drawing me back into him until I settle down again.
“Sam?”
He doesn’t move. Though his breathing changed a few minutes ago so I know the man is definitely awake. Or halfway there, at least.
I run my finger down his nose, watching his brow furrow.
“Sam.”
“What?” he mumbles into the pillow.
“I proved my point.”
“Which one?”
“I didn’t think once about where my hands were,” I tell him, and he cracks an eye open to peer at me. I smile. “Not even when you—”
He’s on me so fast I don’t have time to react. I just let myself go, sinking into the mattress as he covers my body with his.
“I think you’re right about the bedroom scenes,” I say between kisses. “I think there should be more. And I think you should help me to practice. I think we needs lots and lots and lots of—”
“Ciara?”
I freeze as a voice yells from outside. Maddie.
“It’s okay,” I tell Sam as he pulls back, propping himself above me. The doorbell rings. “She can’t get in.”
Sam just winces. “She still has a key.”
“She has a what?”
A second later, I hear the front door open, and I shove him off me, scrambling from the bed.
“Ciara!” she calls, and I spin in a circle, looking for my clothes.
“Go!” I tell him, pulling on my bikini bottoms.
“What?”
“Go.”
“This is my bedroom.”
I throw the sheet over him as footsteps sound on the stairs and just manage to find my top on the floor as the door swings open.
“Boobs much?” I snap, holding it up to my chest.
Maddie stands in the doorway, her curls wild and her eyes narrowed as she takes me in. “I heard voices.”
“I’m getting dressed.”
“And Sam’s staying naked?” She rolls her eyes at the look on my face. “I wasn’t born yesterday. There are clothes all over the hallway, and I don’t care.”
“That doesn’t mean you can just barge—”
“You didn’t answer your phone!” She holds up her hand.
“Whatever. It’s fine. Congratulations on whatever this is.
And look, I know you’re working hard and I promise you that, as always, I am one hundred percent here for you, but right now I need you to come with me and be my backup because I need someone on my side here. ”
“Side where?” I ask as Sam cautiously brings the sheet down to reveal his face. “What’s going on?”
And, in the most serious voice I have ever heard, Maddie utters one word.
“War.”