Chapter 12
I wake up in Sam’s arms, skin still warm, the air around us laced with the faint scent of sex, sweat, and firewood.
The hearth crackles softly nearby, casting a golden glow over the rumpled sheets. We're a tangle of limbs and heat, the sheet barely covering anything important, clinging to us like an afterthought.
Sam’s still wrapped around me. One arm tucked under my shoulders, the other curved low on my hips. His grip is loose, but there’s no mistaking the way he holds me, like I’m something precious. Like he’s not ready to let me go. Not even in sleep.
His heart beats steady under my ear, strong and calm, and every slow breath he exhales brushes the top of my head, stirring the loose strands of my hair.
Neither of us speaks.
We don’t have to.
My fingers trace slow, absent circles along the ridge of his ribs, just skin on skin. His thumb moves in lazy strokes up the curve of my back, beneath the sheet, sending tiny shivers across my spine .
It’s not about seduction anymore. Not exactly.
But there’s heat.
God, is there heat.
His touch drifts lower, the pad of his thumb dipping to trace the small of my back. My breath catches. It’s nothing overt. Just a subtle reminder that he could take it there again. That we’re still very much on the edge of something that hasn’t burned itself out.
And yet it’s comfort. It’s connection. It’s intimacy in its rawest form. I’ve never felt so safe in silence. Or so seen.
Eventually, he shifts, his muscles flexing just enough to draw me closer. He presses a slow, lingering kiss to my forehead, and I tilt my face up to look at him.
His eyes meet mine, still heavy with sleep, but unguarded in a way that makes my chest ache.
“You good?” he murmurs, voice rasping from everything we just did and everything we still haven’t.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my lips curving into a smile that feels like it’s blooming from somewhere deep inside me. “More than good.”
He brushes his nose along mine, slow and affectionate. “You sure? 'Cause I’m happy to prove it again.”
I laugh softly, dragging my fingers down his chest, over the hard lines of his abs. “I can feel you’re already halfway there.”
His breath hitches, and the grin that spreads across his face is all sleepy sin. “That’s what happens when you nap with a naked woman on top of you, darlin’.”
“Guess we better do something about that.”
His hand slides down, cupping my bare ass beneath the sheet. “Yeah,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous, “I really think we should.”
His hand curves tighter around my ass, and his eyes darken as he shifts beneath me, like he’s already planning how he’s going to take me apart again.
“Thought you were tired,” I tease, my voice already unsteady as I feel him harden against me.
He hums, lazy and low. “Turns out, you make a hell of a wake-up call.”
Before I can come up with a clever response, he moves.
In one smooth motion, he flips us, pressing me down into the sheets with his body, one hand catching my wrists and pinning them above my head.
The change in his energy is instant. That soft heat from earlier? Still there, but now it’s threaded with hunger, purpose, and something that makes my thighs clench in anticipation.
“You okay?” he murmurs, lips brushing my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe. “God, yes.”
“Good.” He kisses the curve of my jaw, then nips just below my ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about this since the moment you fell asleep.”
His free hand slides down my side, slow and rough with intention. He drags the sheet away, exposing me inch by inch, until the cool air hits my skin and then his mouth follows, warm and open, pressing kisses down my neck, my chest, my stomach.
He pauses at my hips, lifts his head just enough to meet my gaze.
“I’m gonna pin you here,” he says, voice dark velvet, “and take my sweet time.”
My breath catches because that’s not a promise. It’s a warning.
And I want every second.
He pushes my legs apart with his knee, spreading me wide for him, and settles between my thighs like he belongs there. One hand keeps mine trapped above my head while the other cups the back of my thigh, angling me just how he wants.
Then he thrusts into me—deep, full, and slow—and I cry out, already trembling from how good it feels to have him inside me again.
His grip tightens on my wrists. “That’s it, darlin’. Take every inch.”
He sets a rhythm that’s slow but unrelenting. Each thrust measured, dragging every nerve along the edge of pleasure. My body arches under him, desperate for more friction, more pressure, but he keeps control of the pace perfectly.
“Sam,” I gasp, nails digging into the pillow beneath my trapped hands.
“Look at me.”
I do, and I see it. The way he’s watching every flicker of pleasure on my face. The way his control is razor thin, held together only by the need to make me fall apart first.
“God, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls, snapping his hips harder. “You always do.”
He shifts his angle and hits that spot that makes me see stars.
“There—” I gasp.
He grins, wild and wrecked. “Right there? Yeah, I got you.”
And he does.
He wrecks me slow and deep and dirty, until I’m begging through gritted teeth, thighs shaking, the orgasm building tight and fierce like a dam about to break.
When it crashes, it takes everything with it. My voice, my breath, my sanity. I scream his name, trembling violently beneath him as the pleasure rips through me .
He follows, groaning low and raw, thrusting deep one last time as he shudders and spills into me, every muscle locked tight.
We collapse into the mattress, breathless and tangled, his body still pressing me down, his lips finding mine in a kiss that’s slow, tender, wrecked.
His hands finally release my wrists, but I don’t move.
I don’t want to.
I just lie there, under him, wrapped in the weight of him and everything we just shared, my heart racing and my soul quietly catching up.
“Still tired?” he murmurs against my lips.
I smile, dazed and undone. “Ask me again in ten minutes.”
We lie tangled in the sheets, bodies slick, breath still uneven, the fire crackling nearby.
But it’s not over.
Not even close.
Because as I shift beneath Sam, still catching my breath, I feel him already hardening again.
He groans against my neck. “Fuck, Charlie.”
I smile, wicked and slow, and roll my hips against him.
“You’re insatiable,” I whisper.
He pulls back just far enough to look at me and what I see in his eyes steals the breath from my lungs. Heat. Hunger. Need.
He doesn’t answer with words.
He crashes his mouth to mine.
This kiss is different. Messy, wild, all teeth and tongue and urgency. He rolls us again, pinning me beneath him, hands already dragging the sheet away like he can’t stand a single layer of fabric between us .
I wrap my legs around his hips, anchoring him to me, desperate to feel him again.
We’re not soft this time.
We’re not slow.
We’re frantic.
Desperate.
Ravenous.
He thrusts into me in one brutal, perfect stroke, and we both cry out because there’s no easing into it this time, no teasing. Just raw, filthy need.
“Fuck—” I gasp, nails raking down his back.
“I know,” he grits out. “God, I can’t— I can’t stop wanting you.”
He pounds into me, hard and fast, the rhythm punishing, relentless. Our skin slaps together, slick and loud, drowning out the crackle of the fire.
“You make me wanna breed a baby in you.”
Heat licks my skin, and I beg, “Please!”
“Fuck.”
We cling to each other like we’re trying to crawl inside the other person. Teeth dragging across skin, hands gripping anything we can reach. It’s not about control anymore. It’s about release. About losing ourselves completely.
He buries his face in my neck, breath hot and ragged.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growls. “Tight. Wet. Fuck—Charlie?—”
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, my back arching, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. “Don’t stop.”
He slams into me harder, faster, mouth finding mine again, swallowing the sounds I make as the pleasure coils tight. I’m already close and so is he. I can feel it in the way his rhythm falters, the way his fingers dig into my hips.
“Come with me,” he grits. “Come on, baby. Let go. ”
And I do.
I break, crying out his name as I shatter under him, body convulsing, clenching around him as he follows, groaning loud and deep, hips stuttering as he spills inside me.
He collapses over me, both of us shaking, drenched in sweat, gasping like we’ve just survived something.
Because maybe we have.
We stay there for a long moment, hearts hammering, the room spinning gently around us.
Eventually, he lifts his head, kissing me slowly.
“Remind me to never underestimate your stamina again,” I whisper, completely undone.
He laughs, voice hoarse. “Darlin’, I think we just set a personal record.”
And even though my body feels like melted butter and I’m fairly certain my legs no longer work, I already know if he touches me again I’ll still want more.
We’re still tangled—sweaty, sticky, breathless—when a sharp knock rattles the door.
Sam groans into my neck. “No. Absolutely not.”
Another knock.
“Sam?” Phern’s voice cuts through the air, just as I’m trying to remember how to breathe. “If you’re done rearranging her organs, dinner’s ready.”
I choke on a laugh, burying my face in Sam’s shoulder. He groans louder.
“Give us a minute!” Sam yells back, voice muffled against my skin.
“Fine. But hurry. I’m bored out here.”
Sam sighs and collapses beside me, rolling onto his back with one arm draped over his face. “Cockblocked by my sister. ”
I can’t stop laughing now, my cheeks flushed and sore in the best way. “You think she heard everything?”
“Oh,” Sam mutters, dragging a hand down his face, “she absolutely heard everything.”
I snort. “God, I hope not.”
“Me, too.” He laughs, too. “Fuck. My biggest fear used to be getting caught by my mom. Never knew it’d be my baby sister who’d be the one to bust me.”
I groan, burying my face in the pillow. “She’s never going to let us live this down.”