Chapter 11
Sam collapses beside me, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. The firelight dances across his face, turning every hard line of his jaw and every lazy curve of his smirk into something sculpted, something dangerous.
“Damn,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his tousled hair, still catching his breath.
I’m sprawled next to him, one leg tangled with his, the sheets a mess beneath us. My skin’s still humming, tingling in every place he touched, kissed, claimed. My heart’s trying to punch its way out of my chest.
“Is that your professional review?” I ask, voice breathless and teasing.
He turns his head, eyes still dark with heat, grin slow and wicked. “Sweetheart, if I gave stars, you’d break the scale.”
I laugh, shoving at his shoulder, even though I’m still reeling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” he says, voice lower now, reaching out to trail his fingers down the center of my chest, featherlight, “you were just screaming my name like it was a prayer. ”
My breath catches because even now, just his touch makes my body respond like it’s still waiting for round two. The aftershocks ripple through me, subtle and sharp.
“Don’t get cocky,” I warn, though my voice betrays me.
His smile deepens, voice pure sin. “Oh, darlin’ it’s way too late for that.”
I reach for the sheet, trying to tug it over my body in some half-hearted attempt at modesty, but he’s faster. He yanks it away with a grin, eyes glittering like the devil himself has taken up residence in his smirk.
“Hey!” I yelp, laughing as I reach for it again.
“Nuh uh,” he says, shaking his head, muscles rippling as he shifts over me. “You started this, Charlie. You don’t get to hide now.”
“And what if I like hiding?”
His fingers find my waist again, skimming the sensitive line of my ribs, brushing down to the curve of my hip with maddening slowness. “Then I’ll just have to coax you out.”
He lowers himself, his body warm and solid against mine. His mouth brushes against mine, soft and teasing, and then drifts lower. Over my jaw. Down my throat. Pausing at my collarbone.
He murmurs against my skin, voice husky and slow. “Round two?”
I arch into him, already breathless. “That was your professional review, not mine.”
He chuckles, lips trailing lower. “Guess I better earn it, then.”
“Only if I get to be on top this time.”
That earns an almost guttural sound from Sam. His eyes flash like I just lit the fuse on something dangerous.
“God help me,” he mutters, voice thick with need.
And just like that, the fire roars back to life, like our bodies know the steps by heart now and want to skip the slow parts.
His mouth trails lower, tongue teasing the edge of my ribs, dragging heat across my skin until I’m arching beneath him, every nerve lit, every part of me screaming more. He dips lower, biting gently at my waist, and I gasp, threading my fingers into his damp hair.
“You’re trouble,” I whisper, breathless.
He grins against my skin. “You started it when you pulled my towel off.”
“Zero regrets.”
“Good,” he growls.
Then, in one fluid motion, he flips us, muscles flexing beneath me as he rolls us over until I’m straddling him. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me over his lap like he’s savoring the view. I can feel him hard beneath me, thick and eager, and the look in his eyes?
Possession. Admiration. Pure, wrecked hunger.
“Goddamn, Charlie.”
He sits up, mouth crashing into mine, hot and unrestrained. His hands slide up my back, one threading under my hair to grip the base of my neck while the other presses me down onto him, making sure I feel all of him.
I roll my hips slowly, grinding against him in lazy, devastating circles. He groans, head tipping back, and I chase his mouth again, biting his lower lip until he gasps.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he pants.
I grin, lips brushing his. “You started it.”
His grip tightens on my hips, and his next words are nothing but gravel and desperation. “Then finish it.”
I reach between us, wrap my hand around him, and guide him inside, slow and steady, until I’m full. Until I’m stretched in the best way .
We both moan.
“God, you’re so big, Sam” I pant.
I set the pace, rocking against him, slow at first, savoring the way he watches me like I’m both heaven and hell. He lets me take the reins… lets me ride him like I’ve done this a thousand times. Like I own him.
And maybe, right now, I do.
His hands find my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples as I ride him harder. Our breath turns to panting, skin slapping against skin, the sound of sex and fire and the heady rhythm of yesyesyes filling the space between us.
I don’t stop until he’s gasping my name, digging his fingers into my hips, body bucking up into mine like he can’t get deep enough, close enough, lost enough.
When it hits, it rips through both of us like lightning.
He spills into me with a cry, and I follow, clenching around him, shaking with the force of it, eyes locked on his as we fall together. And when it’s over, when we’re nothing but tangled limbs and wrecked sighs and pulsing skin, I collapse on top of him, laughing into the curve of his shoulder.
His hand drifts lazily up my spine, holding me close like he’s not ready to let me go.
And honestly?
Neither am I.
He groans, arms locking around me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. “You’re tryin’ to kill me.”
“I told you I liked to be on top,” I murmur, lips brushing the hollow of his throat before I kiss him there open-mouthed, just to feel the way his pulse kicks under my tongue.
“And damn if you didn’t deliver,” he rasps, voice wrecked and breathless. “I may never recover. ”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I say with a smirk, lifting my head just enough to meet his gaze. “You loved it.”
He smirks right back, his eyes hooded and lazy with satisfaction, but gleaming with something darker. Hotter. “Loved every second. Especially the part where you said my name like a prayer.”
I swat his chest, half flustered, half turned on. But he catches my wrist before I land the hit, and in one fluid motion, he flips us until I’m under him again, pinned by muscle and a look that says we’re not even close to done.
“Still got some fight left in you?” he murmurs, dragging his nose along my jaw, voice thick with promise and pure sin.
“Maybe.” I shift beneath him just enough to make him hiss, my grin lazy and defiant. “Why? You planning a rematch?”
His grin turns downright feral. “Oh, darlin’. I don’t believe in rematches.”
My breath hitches.
Then he leans in, kisses me once before trailing his mouth down my throat, across my collarbone, lower. So slow I could scream.
“You’re playing with fire,” I whisper, equal parts giddy and desperate.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, pupils blown wide, voice rough silk. “Good thing I burn real slow.”
And then he kisses me again, deeper this time, with a heat that feels like it’s been banked for years, waiting for this exact moment to ignite.
His hand slides down the outside of my thigh, gripping it and hitching it over his hip, locking us together again like he needs me close. Like he can’t stand a single breath of space between us .
He thrusts against me, slow and deep, not inside yet, but close. Just enough pressure to make me whimper and cling to his shoulders.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he mutters into my skin, his mouth trailing heat across the curve of my neck, down to the place that makes me shiver.
“You’re one to talk,” I gasp, nails digging into his back.
“You started it.”
“You showed up in a towel.”
“And you took it off.”
That earns a breathless laugh from me just before he grinds against me again, slow and ruthless, dragging a moan from deep in my chest. My head falls back, and he kisses down my throat again.
“Still not sorry,” I breathe, barely able to form the words.
“You better not be.”
Then he reaches down, guiding himself against my entrance, teasing me with the thick head of his cock before slowly pushing in inch by torturous inch until I’m full again, stretched and pulsing around him.
This time, it’s slower. More controlled. But no less intense. If anything, it’s worse because now he’s watching me. Every flicker of pleasure across my face. Every soft gasp, every whispered curse, every arch of my back.
His hands stay on my thighs, fingers digging into my skin as he rolls his hips, deep and deliberate. Each thrust is like a promise carved into bone. Like he’s trying to make me feel it tomorrow.
We move together, bodies slick and breath tangled, his mouth never far from mine. He kisses me between moans, like he needs that contact just to breathe.
“Look at me,” he growls when I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed .
I do, and the look on his face unravels me.
It’s not just lust. It’s possession. It’s worship. It’s raw, wrecked hunger and something frighteningly close to tender.
It breaks me open.
Pleasure rips through me like a storm that’s sharp, deep, and endless. I cry out, clutching him as I come around him, shaking.
“Sam! Yes!”
He follows with a curse, his hips snapping once more before he buries himself deep and spills into me, a sound escaping him that’s all heat and surrender.
We stay like that—forehead to forehead, hearts pounding, bodies slick and trembling. His arms wrap around me again, like he needs to hold me still. Like if he doesn’t, he’ll unravel completely.
He presses a kiss to my temple, still inside me, still holding on.
And for the first time in a long, long while I don’t want to let go either. But then the thought hits me like a drop of cold water sliding down the spine.
My breath hitches. “We didn’t use a condom.”
Sam’s head lifts immediately, eyes sharpening with concern. “Shit,” he breathes. “Darlin’, I didn’t even think about it. It’s been so long and I just—” He exhales hard, bracing himself above me. “I’m so sorry.”
I reach up, palm pressing to his chest, feeling his heart still thundering beneath my fingers. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m on birth control.”
Relief softens his expression, but only slightly. “Still. I should’ve asked. That’s on me.”
“I didn’t exactly bring it up either,” I murmur, fingers brushing along his collarbone. “We were both kind of lost in it.”
He searches my face like he’s still waiting for me to change my mind, to pull away.
I don’t.
“I trust you,” I say softly. “And I’m clean. I got tested a couple months ago after—” I pause, then shrug. “After everything ended with Kurt.”
His jaw tics slightly at the name, but he nods. “Same here. Last relationship ended over a year ago. I’ve been tested since. I wouldn’t—” He trails off, looking almost gutted by the idea of putting me at risk. “I wouldn’t take chances with you.”
The weight of his words presses into me. Not heavy. Just real. This isn’t just sex.
“I know,” I whisper.
He leans down and kisses me. Not with urgency this time, but with a gentleness that feels like more.
“I still plan on wrecking you again later,” he murmurs against my mouth.
I laugh, heart lighter now. “Well, at least you’re consistent.”
“Damn right I am,” Sam says, cocky and content.
But before I can fire back with something equally smart, a yawn sneaks up on me and stretches my whole body with it. I blink, already half-lost to the warmth of the blankets and the heat of him still curled around me.
He watches me with a grin, brushing a knuckle down my cheek. “That your way of tapping out?”
I sigh, nestling into his bed like it’s the only place I belong. “No tapping out. Just pausing for a nap.”
“Deal,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
He pulls the blanket up around us, his arm draped over my waist, fingers lazily tracing circles against my skin. The fire crackles nearby, the storm still whirling outside the windows like a soundtrack to our little world.
And as I drift off, tucked into him, heart full and body sore in the best way I realize something.
I haven’t felt this wanted in a long, long time.