Chapter 28
BECCA
Iinstantly reach for Sam as the storm rages, leaving us in darkness. I feel his arms wrap around me soothingly.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, baby, it’s just the power. You’re safe,” he whispers in my ear as he strokes my back.
I’ve always hated storms. I know many people love them, but their unpredictability unnerves me. Growing up in our trailer, the thunder would rattle our house, and many times the rain and wind would make shrieking noises while blowing the double-wide tin can around.
I squeeze Sam tighter; he knows my fears of storms and has held me through every one of them since we got together.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, turning on the flashlight feature.
Then, while still holding me close, he reaches into my small pocket in my sleep shorts to grab mine, grazing my leg gently.
I hold back a shiver at the feeling of his hands on my thighs.
“I’m going to head out, check on the generator,” Sam says into the dark.
I grip him tighter with the fear of being left here. Sam squeezes me back, then realization hits me. “Oh no, I never got gas for it! I meant to, but it wasn’t high on my priority list. Damn it, now what do we do?!”
Another loud crack sounds, and I close my eyes at the irrational fear encompassing me.
“It’s okay, Becca, you’ve had a lot going on. I’m going to go out to my truck to get some flashlights. I’m handing you your cell phone light so you can see. I will be back in less than one minute, okay?” He meets my eyes with steady calm.
I nod into his chest and reluctantly let him go. Sam leaves quickly out the front door, and I watch him rush into his truck, reaching into the cab to pull out a large job light and a small bag I haven’t seen in his truck before.
In less than one minute, he’s back in the cabin, more rain-soaked than he was before.
Sam turns on the job light, angles it away from my face, and the room illuminates.
I breathe out a sigh of relief as I notice him opening the small shoebox-sized bag.
Inside are the small flameless candles he had on our date.
“You carry those around now wherever you go?” I tease.
Sam turns his head slightly, hiding a blush.
“When I asked you on our date, I realized you were always the planner in our relationship, which I love. I’m listening to this book, and it talks about how exhausting that can be.
And I hated the thought of how all the fun things we did together could exhaust you, because of the mental load of always having to ensure we have everything. ”
Did he really? He fiddles with the lights before continuing.
“So I figured if I was ever lucky enough to get you riding in my truck again,” he pauses, “I, uh, planned to always have the candles and blanket on hand in the hope of giving you a date anytime.” His lips curl into a shy smile.
I don’t know how to answer that, so I watch as he lays out the blanket on the couch and turns on the flameless candles around the loft bed.
As the storm rages on, my body warms, and my heart begins to thaw at his care.
“Okay, that should be enough light for you. The storm will be going on for a while, but you should have six hours of light between these, and the power should be back on by then.”
My eyes widen at the implication he’s making, and he sees my train of thought.
“Baby, don’t worry. I’ll be right outside in my truck. Just wave from the window if you need anything. I’ll be right back in,” he assures me.
The thought of him walking out that door, even twenty feet away, makes my heart ache. “Sam, you can stay. The storm is raging outside; you shouldn’t be out in it,” I reply, trying to keep the utter need for his steadiness out of my voice.
He shrugs. “Becca, it’s fine. I know we’re just starting to date, but I need to earn your trust. I respect that. I’ll be right outside.”
But as Sam moves to the door, I reach for him. “Please. I want you here.”
He looks at me and nods. “Of course, I’ll be anywhere you want.”
And with that, he wraps his arms around me, grounding me as the storm rages on.
“I know this couch folds out into a bed. I will get that set up; you get ready to sleep.”
I mindlessly walk to the bathroom to brush my hair, which is an utter disaster, and attempt to detangle it. When I come back out, I see Sam taking off his shirt, pulling it over his head.
Holy hell, has his chest gotten more defined since we’ve been apart?
“What are you doing?” I ask as I see him now shimmying out of his jeans.
“Sorry, my clothes are drenched. I didn’t want to ruin the couch.”
I nod in understanding. It’s not like I haven’t seen my husband in a state of undress before; it just feels like it has been years, at least to my hormones.
“Got it. Well, thank you for staying over. I appreciate it.”
He grins. “Of course, Becca. Any time. Sweet dreams.”
With that, I turn to climb up the ladder to the loft and get myself comfortable. I hear Sam pull out the couch and realize he will need a pillow. Leaning over the small railing to throw him one, I bite back a laugh.
My six-foot-three husband is sprawled diagonally across the bed, with his head hanging off the top onto the sofa and his feet hanging off the other end—his muscular body on full display, with one hand tossed over his eyes.
I can’t help but stare. This tiny bed was not made for my giant.
Speaking of giant, my eyes wander down his body to his boxer briefs, fitting him like a damn Calvin Klein model.
As if he feels the heat of my eyes, he moves his arm and looks up. “Need something, baby?” He asks, his voice laced in concern.
I choke on my tongue trying to get an answer out. Before I can toss him the pillow, I decide to hell with it. “Sam, come on up here. It’s a king-size bed; we can both fit comfortably.”
He sits up straight, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” he asks, trying to hide his eagerness. “I’m happy to just be under the same roof with you tonight.”
This man …
“I’m sure.” I scoot over to the other side and watch him climb the ladder, muscles flexing as he pulls himself up. I toss the blanket up to make room for him. He crawls in, being careful not to touch me.
I hate this distance between us, but I appreciate that he isn’t pushing. Another loud strike of lightning hits right outside the window, and the thunder booms.
I instinctively reach for Sam, heart pounding.
“I got you. I promise you’re safe. Just sleep, baby, I’ll be right here,” he promises.
I curl on my side, and Sam moves to follow, cradling my body with his as he has done so many nights before. I shift closer, curling into his warmth. But I can’t ignore the hard press of his arousal against my back. I freeze.
“Ignore it. I don’t expect anything. This? Just holding you? If this is all I get forever, I would die a happy man,” he responds with our wedding song quote.
God. My traitorous heart is melting. My body too. I squirm slightly.
He groans. “Baby, you need to stop that. I’m only human. You can’t expect herculean willpower from me when I finally have the woman of my dreams back in my arms.”
I quickly still. As I lay there, listening to the storm and feeling him behind me, I feel safe in his familiar arms. Another feeling creeps in, dangerous. Because this is how it happens, how I forget—I should pull away, put the distance I need to keep my walls up. But I don’t.
Do I want to keep my walls fully constructed?
I realize something, Sam has been the only one trying to repair the damage in our marriage. If I want us to work, I need to show up too, take a chance.
My heart pounds with the decision I am about to make. Before I can stop myself, I reach behind me and slowly start stroking his length.
He lets out a groan as he reaches for my hand, squeezing it tighter.
“One chance, tell me now if you want me to stop,” Sam begs, sounding like a desperate man.
And for the first time, I don’t hesitate. “Don’t stop, Sam.”
Before my next thought, he’s on me. Sam’s mouth claims mine, hot and urgent, kissing me like he’s starving. I match him beat for beat, hands desperate, breath tangled. He sits up suddenly, positioning his body on top of me.
“I need to taste you, baby, it has been too damn long. Tell me to stop, because I won’t if you don’t,” he says huskily.
I moan out an emphatic “Yes,” and he starts pulling my sleep shorts down.
With a groan of his own, Sam can’t take his eyes off my naked core.
“Damn, baby, I need to see you better.”
He grabs a pillow to props under my hips and spreads my legs, knees bent wide. Then he grabs the flameless candles and settles them on the inside of my legs.
“It’s like my own candlelit dinner.”
As I begin to flush with embarrassment, he starts trailing kisses down my leg slowly, teasingly.
I should laugh, but I don’t. Because the way he’s looking at me makes it impossible to think about anything else.
“Sam,” I groan, moving my hips to bring him closer to where I want him.
He stops kissing me and grabs my hips, holding me in place. “Stay still,” he says it in a commanding voice that sends shivers through my body and makes me instantly obey. “You made me a feast and I’m going to enjoy it how I want.”
I start to laugh at him, but then he continues his slow, leisurely kisses to my center. By the time he gets to where I need him, I’m a wanton mess. His tongue strokes me from the bottom of my lips, then circles my clit, slowly. My hips pop up instantly, demanding more.
“If you don’t let me enjoy my meal, I won’t let you have any dessert, baby.” I instantly still my body. “Good girl.”
Sam begins to devour me with his sucking and licking, making me cry out.
His tongue swirls around my pussy, licking me thoroughly before moving on to my clit, nibbling my sensitive nerves.
He eases a finger in and out of me, never relinquishing the suction on my clit.
My thighs can’t stop shaking with pleasure.
“Don’t stop, please, right there,” I beg, throwing my head back in ecstasy.
He reaches deeper inside me, rubbing his fingers on the perfect spot, and I come all over his face, pleasure tearing through my body as I try to catch my breath.
Sam slows his fingers but doesn’t stop, letting me ride out this high as he begins to kiss up my stomach.
When he reaches my face, he gives me the softest, most gentle kiss.
“Oh, baby, I’m not done with you yet.” Sam pulls off his boxer briefs with his free hand and then slowly draws his fingers out of my pussy, tracing my juices up and down his cock. My mouth waters at the sight, needing him inside me one way or another.
As I’m reaching for his cock, he suddenly flips me on top of him.
“Ride me,” he commands. “I need to see you.” Sam lifts me, and I slowly sink down onto him as we both groan in pleasure. We stop here, looking at one another, enjoying the moment, feeling as if we have finally come home.
I look in his eyes, words escaping me. “Sam … I.”
“I know, baby, me too.” He sits up, grabbing the back of my head and kissing me long and deep.
The movement has his cock hitting deeper inside me, drawing out a moan. I move my hips up and down on top of him slowly, savoring this feeling. His hands reach for my breasts and start rolling my nipples.
“God, Becca, you are the sexiest woman on the planet.”
I reach up to the low ceiling and brace my hands for leverage, increasing my force.
“Fuck, yes, right there,” Sam tells me, grabbing my hips while slamming upward. I feel the pressure building, but I need more.
“Sam …” I say breathlessly, asking a question without words.
“I got you, baby.” Sam leans forward so we are chest to chest, ensuring my clit gets the attention it needs. He moves his hips faster, harder while kissing my neck. “Come for me, Becca. I need to feel that pussy squeeze my cock.”
His words send me over the edge. As my body convulses, Sam flips us over so I am on my back again. He grabs my legs, throws them over his shoulders, and brings us nose to nose.
“God, I missed being inside you,” Sam groans as he pushes deeper.
I don’t have the energy to respond. I roll my head to the side, eyes closed, trying to catch my breath.
“Eyes on me. I need your eyes as you fall apart,” he orders.
“I can’t,” I gasp, turning to look at him.
“Yes, you can. One more for me, baby. I got you, I always will.”
And with that, he reaches between us and massages my clit, and I fall over, clamping down on him, bringing him over the edge with me.
Sam collapses on top of me, his breath ragged in my ear as he slowly softens inside me.
The storm outside begins to settle, but in here, everything feels suspended, still.
My body hums with aftershocks, but it's the flood of emotion that undoes me. Tears slip from the corners of my eyes—silent, hot, and unstoppable.
Sam lifts his head. His gaze finds mine instantly as he feels it. He brushes away a tear with the back of his knuckles, gentle as breath.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, as if I’d spoken every thought out loud. “I don’t know how to fix all of this yet, but I’m not stopping until I do.”
He kisses me then, soft and sweet, like a vow made flesh.
I want to believe him, and I am starting to think I will.