Chapter 32
Twelve Years Old
Ethan and Sam are so engrossed in playing Mario Kart that I know I have enough time to sneak into Ethan’s room and read his new comic books.
Ethan’s always been hesitant to let me touch his comic book collection because he “doesn’t want me to mess them up.”
When he isn’t looking, I read them anyway.
I know he got a new X-Men one, and I can’t wait to see if it has Rogue in it. She’s my favorite X-Men. Something about her long auburn hair with the white in front. And her ability to absorb the powers, memories, and energy of those she touches? So cool!
The third floor is split, with my room on the left of the stairs and Ethan’s on the right. Between the bedrooms is a full bathroom and an open space loft where the TV and a couch are, so we could play video games or watch movies with our friends.
I walk past the loft where Ethan and Sam are and try to act like I’m going into the bathroom. Once I’m past them, I continue and sneak into his room. Thankfully, his door is open.
I hurry to Ethan’s bookshelf, where he keeps his comic books stacked in neat piles, and grab the X-Men one on top. Flipping through it, I see Rogue isn’t in this one, so I put it back and hurry back out of his room before I’m caught.
***
Present Day
“When did you start swearing so much?” We’re sitting at the restaurant Sam chose, a casual taco joint. We’ve finished eating and are now sitting in the cool air outside, chatting and enjoying our margaritas.
“Um, always?” I exaggerate the words. “I always swear, Sam, but maybe it's gotten worse since working with my dad. Everyone there swears like it's going out of style. I don’t think I’ve heard my dad say fuck so many times in my entire life. Did I tell you about the first time I heard him say fuck at the office?”
“No, but tell me more.” Sam leans forward and places his elbows on the table in front of him. I lean in, too.
“I was walking by his office, and his door was open. He was talking to another associate; I think something went wrong on a big case. He shouted the word, and I immediately turned to look at him.” I’m laughing as I tell the story.
“He wasn’t yelling at the associate; he just yelled the word.
Anyway, he saw me and went stark white. He looked like he had seen a ghost, then all of a sudden, his cheeks were blazing! He later begged me not to tell my mom.”
“He did not.” Sam’s eyes crinkle with his laughter.
“He did.” We’re both laughing now. I love how easy our conversations are. Even the silence feels comfortable.
His voice turns serious, “Listen, I was thinking. When I get back to Charleston, can I take you on a proper date?”
“Is this not a proper date?”
“No, Kitty Kat. Picking you up from the airport and getting dinner after is not a proper date,” he scoffs and leans back into his chair.
“So, what is a proper date then?” I pick up my margarita and take a small sip.
“One where we both dress nicely. I'll pick you up for dinner and something fun. Or maybe I pick you up on my bike, and we go for a long ride and have a quiet picnic somewhere. Then at the end, I walk you back to your door and kiss you goodnight.”
My stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of being on the back of his motorcycle, my legs hugging his muscular thighs, my arms around his waist. The vision both terrifies and excites me. My voice is husky and thick when I finally respond, “I’d like that a lot.”
“Good, cause I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.”
“Probably groveled.” I smile at him.
He half laughs and half groans. “Is that what you want, Kitty Kat? For me to grovel on my knees at your feet?” His voice is almost a purr, and my lady bits are screaming at me for attention. His attention.
I’m feeling bold. “Sammy, there are many things that cross my mind that would be much better than groveling if you’re on your knees at my feet.” I’m trying to use my most seductive voice.
“I can think of several things I’d like to do when I’m on my knees in front of you, too.”
When. Oh fuck.
Sam’s gaze shifts to something behind me. I’m about to turn and look at what’s caught his attention when I hear a female voice purr, “Sam, is that you?”
She stops at our table, her back to me, so I can’t see her face. She’s clearly dismissing my presence with this simple act. It infuriates me.
She’s slim, taller than me, with black hair cut in a short bob.
“Hey, Tiffany, what—”
“Sam, you look amazing. It’s so good to see you.” Her voice is too breathy, like she’s trying too hard to be seductive.
It grates on my nerves.
The way she keeps saying his name puts me on edge—I’m so glad you know his name.
I look from this woman to Sam, who gives me an apologetic smile.
“Tiffany, this is—” Sam stops talking as Tiffany places her hand on his shoulder and runs her fingers along his arm.
I see red.
My body goes rigid as I watch this woman touch Sam. My Sam.
Who is this woman? And why does she think it’s ok to touch MY DATE?
I want to rip her hand off his body.
I want to stab my fork in her eye.
I clench my hands on top of the table, so I don’t do something stupid.
Before I can say anything, Sam grabs hold of Tiffany’s wrist and removes her hand from his arm. His jaw is tight, and his nostrils flare slightly.
“Don’t do that, Tiffany.”
“But Sam,” Tiffany whines, “I’ve missed you.”
Did she just whine? God, she's annoying.
“And you,” his voice is stern as his eyes narrow, “are interrupting my date.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard this tone from Sam. It would terrify me if it were directed at me. But right now? My core heats.
Tiffany glances over her shoulder and eyes me.
I hate to admit that she’s gorgeous, with dazzling blue eyes and high cheekbones. I feel slightly self-conscious about myself with this woman, who could definitely be a model. Before she shifts her attention back to Sam, Tiffany’s lips curl in disgust at whatever she finds in me.
“I miss you, Sam. I want another chance.” She’s back to her purr. At least she isn’t touching him again.
Another chance? They dated?
Sam ignores her and watches me. He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his.
Uncomfortable with this situation, I want to pull away from him when he gently pulls my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
Sam’s eyes are fixed on mine as he says, “You need to leave, Tiffany. I’m not interested in anything with you.” He kisses my knuckles again and smiles that full-watt smile at me, and the fucking dimple makes my breath catch.
I relax a little as he continues to watch me until she finally gets the hint, huffs out her distaste at being rejected, and stalks off.
“You know I can’t stop thinking about that night over Thanksgiving.” Sam plants another kiss on my knuckles. “You writhing below me.” His eyes are black, and his smile turns wicked.
He’s trying to take my mind off Tiffany.
“Sam, who was that?”
“She doesn’t matter.”
I glare at him.
“Someone I briefly dated a long time ago,” he sighs. Sam leans back in his chair, but keeps his hand wrapped around mine.
“You’re not interes—”
“Absolutely, not. Why would I want anything to do with her when I can’t stop thinking about your wet pussy soaking my fingers.
” He leans forward again. “The feel of your hard nipples in my mouth. The way you moaned my name as you shattered below me. I can’t stop thinking about how you will taste as you cum on my face.
” His smooth voice has me desperate for his touch.
“Have you thought about that night, Kitty Kat?”
“I…” My brain is short-circuiting at this incredibly sexy man and the way his words turn me on. I briefly look around the restaurant to ensure no one can overhear this conversation.
“Tell me.” He demands.
“Yes,” it comes out breathy.
He shifts in his seat, sitting up and looking around the restaurant, like he’s just realized where we are. His voice is husky when he speaks again, “Do you want to order dessert, or should we go back to my place, where you can be my dessert?”
Fuck. “Check, please!”