13. Sam
13
SAM
Sam
Y esterday…
I'm walking down the hall, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet, when I hear my mother's voice. What the fuck is she doing here? I didn't invite her. I slow down, staying out of sight.
"Two million dollars," she says, her tone dripping with disdain. “Call that number and I will make sure you get paid. But only if you don’t encourage him. Let him get over this and then take the money and disappear. Don’t come after him; don’t go to the media. My son is going places, and you’re holding him up. He doesn’t belong with a girl like you, and he’ll see it soon enough.”
My fists clench at my sides. Rage boils in my veins, threatening to spill over. How dare she come into my home and talk to Kim like that? I want to storm in there and put her in her place, but something holds me back.
I need to know what Kim will say.
The silence stretches on, each second feeling like an eternity. My breath catches in my throat as I wait for Kim's response. It shouldn't matter. I'm not letting her go, no matter what she says. But still... I need to hear it.
But Kim says nothing. The next thing I hear is my mother's footsteps as she storms back out of my house.
Still, I don't move. And neither does Kim by the sound of. She keeps sitting there, and I wonder what she is thinking.
I lean against the wall, my jaw clenched tight. Is Kim considering my mother's offer? Fuck that. She has no way out, no phone, no escape. I won't let her go. But I need her to submit, to admit what we both know.
She wants this. I want this. It's that simple.
My mother's words echo in my head. Get over this obsession? Bullshit. Kim isn't some passing fancy. She's everything I've ever wanted, everything I never knew I needed.
I push off the wall and stride towards the room. Through the crack in the door, I see Kim sitting there, still as a statue. Her eyes are fixed on some distant point, lost in thought.
Damn, she's beautiful. That perfect skin, those full lips. The way her body moves when she dances... It drives me wild. And that fire in her eyes when she fights back? Fucking intoxicating.
My mother doesn't understand. She thinks Kim's just another girl, someone I'll discard like all the rest. But she's wrong. Dead wrong.
Kim is the only one for me. The only one who's ever challenged me, excited me, made me feel alive. I'll make her see that. I'll make her understand that we belong together.
I'm about to burst into the room when my pocket vibrates. Fuck. I backpedal, putting distance between me and Kim before fishing out my phone. The screen flashes with an incoming call from Joe, my manager.
"What?" I snarl into the receiver.
"Sam, we've got a situation." His voice is tight, urgent. "There are allegations you've been using steroids before games. We need you to come in for a drug test. Now."
The words hit me like a freight train. My vision blurs, rage bubbling up from my gut. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I hiss, my free hand clenching into a fist.
"I don't know the details, but it's serious. The league's involved. We need to get ahead of this."
My mind races. Steroids? That's bullshit. I've never touched the stuff. Who the hell would?—
"Sam? You there?"
I realize I've been grinding my teeth, jaw clenched so tight it aches. "Yeah, I'm here," I growl.
I grip the phone so hard I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. "Steroids? Are you fucking kidding me, Joe?"
"I wish I was. We need to?—"
"No," I cut him off, my voice low and dangerous. "You listen to me. I've never touched that shit. Never. You know how I feel about cheaters."
"I know, Sam, but?—"
"But nothing." I pace the hallway, my free hand clenching and unclenching. "I've busted my ass since I was a kid to get where I am. Every goal, every assist, every fucking bruise—that's all me. No shortcuts."
Joe sighs. "I believe you, but the league doesn't care what we believe. They want proof."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Proof? Fine. I'll give them their fucking proof." I'm practically snarling now. "And I want names, Joe. Who's spreading this bullshit?"
There's a pause on the other end of the line. "I don't know, Sam. But we need to handle this carefully. One wrong move and?—"
"And what? My career's over?" I scoff. "Let them try. I've got nothing to hide."
I hear Kim shift in the other room, and suddenly I remember where I am, what I was doing before this clusterfuck of a call. Shit. I can't leave her, not now. But I can't ignore this either.
God help whoever started this rumor, because when I find them...
They're going to wish they'd never heard the name Sam Warwick.
"This is fucking ridiculous."
"I know it is," he assures me. "But you're going to have to come in and take a test."
Besides the fact that it pisses me off, I know that I have nothing to hide when it comes to the drug test. Dragging my hand through my hair, I grit out, "I'll be there in twenty."
I hang up before he can respond, resisting the urge to hurl my phone against the wall. My chest heaves as I struggle to control my breathing. This can't be happening. Not now. Not when I'm so close to having everything I want.
I glance back toward the room where Kim sits, probably still mulling over my mother's pathetic bribe attempt. Goddamnit. I need to be here, need to make her understand that we belong together. Instead, I've got to deal with this bullshit.
My fist connects with the wall before I realize what I'm doing. Pain lances through my knuckles, but I barely notice. All I can think about is getting my hands on whoever did this, making them pay for this.
But first, I've got to clear my name. Can't let anyone or anything jeopardize what I've built. What I'm still building with Kim.
I take a deep breath, forcing the rage down. I need to think clearly. Handle this quickly and get back here before Kim gets any ideas about leaving.
As I stride toward the front door, I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. My eyes are wild, dangerous. Good. Let them see that look when I walk in for their fucking test. Let them know they're messing with the wrong guy.
I pause at the door, glancing back toward where I left Kim. "I'll be back soon, little dancer," I mutter under my breath. "Don't go anywhere."
I sit on the ottoman, not daring to say a word. This is all about control, showing Kim who is in control here. She's trying to fight for it, but she doesn't want it, not really. She wants to bend to me, wants to please me.
I'm just having to coax that out of her.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, those full lips parted slightly. I can see the war raging behind those beautiful brown eyes. Pride versus desire. Defiance versus need.
"Fuck you," she breathes, but there's no real venom in it.
I grin, slow and predatory. "That's the idea, little dancer."
For a moment, I think she might actually make me follow through on my threat. Part of me hopes she does. But then, something shifts in her eyes. A decision made.
With trembling hands, she reaches for the hem of her shirt. Pulls it over her head in one fluid motion.
Pride and satisfaction surge through me. "There's hope for you yet," I murmur.
Her pants follow, then her bra. Each piece of clothing discarded is a victory. A step closer to her realizing what we both know: she's mine.
When she's down to nothing but a scrap of lace, she pauses. Her eyes meet mine, challenging once more.
I raise an eyebrow. "All of it, Kim."
She hooks her thumbs in the waistband, hesitates. Then, in one swift motion, she's bare before me.
My breath catches in my throat. She's perfection. All smooth skin and gentle curves. A goddess made flesh.
"Beautiful," I breathe.
For a moment, vulnerability flashes across her face. Then the mask of defiance slams back into place.
"Happy now?" she snaps.
I cross the distance between us in two long strides. My hand cups her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. She tries to jerk away, but I hold her firm.
"Ecstatic," I murmur.
And then I turn and leave the room. It’s not time for me to touch her yet. Like I told her, I can be a patient man.
And she'll learn to bend to me before I finally give her what she needs.