Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
SAM
E very fiber of Sam’s being wanted to respond “yes.” He’d push her up against the wall, slide a thigh between her legs, and pin her the way he’d dreamed of.
He’d taste her mouth again because once wasn’t enough.
Licking his lips, he searched for the taste of her. He’d almost skipped dinner so he wouldn’t lose it. Instead of taking everything he wanted, he pushed off the wall and held out a hand.
She was far too many sheets to the wind for any of that.
She swayed toward him but he stopped her. “You’re drunk, Bertone.”
“I’m an adult, Samuel L. Fartface. And I want to kiss you again.”
He furrowed his brows. Her pout was fucking adorable.
She huffed, swinging her arms out wide. “I was going to do a thing. Jiminy Christ on a Cracker, you interrupt everything. ‘Iris, don’t do the news beat, be on features. Iris, don’t join the debate team, stick with the tech crew.’ ‘Iris, don’t kiss my face real hard, you’re drunk.’”
She stumbled toward him, god love her, as he caught her and steadied her. He turned her toward the exit of the bar. “Let’s get you copious amounts of water, and tuck you in early.”
As they walked back into the bar, Iris waved excitedly at two women and gave them two thumbs up. They whooped in her direction.
Women are so weird . “Do you know them?”
“It’s a girls’ bathroom thing. You wouldn’t understand.” She swayed a little as they walked back to the inn, but she was largely silent for once in her life.
They walked up the stairs to their room, and he fished out his key card from his wallet.
She lay her head against the wall as he unlocked the door. “You have handsome nostrils.” She rolled her head to the side and looked up at him. “It’s my favorite thing when you’re mad at me. I like the way they flare,” she said as he snorted with laughter.
She pointed up at him. “See, there they go. Flaring. Shame we can’t kiss again.” She shrugged as if to say, “Your loss.”
He opened the door for her. “Nothing beyond tucking you in with a giant glass of water is happening tonight.”
Tomorrow morning? That’s a different story.
“Water is stupid. You know who drinks water? Bart.” She flailed off his jacket that he’d thrown over her shoulders as they’d walked across the road. “Now tequila, there’s a sexy drink. Goes perfectly with flared nostrils.”
She fell onto the bed like a starfish, face first.
He poured two glasses of water—both for her. By the time he came back to the bed, she was dead to the world, snuffling and asleep.
He set the glasses down on her side and pulled the duvet over on top of her, making an Iris taco— not a sandwich, he thought, smiling.
His mind whirled as he tucked her in.
Fuck . It had been a good kiss.
He hoped like hell tomorrow-morning Iris wanted to try again too.
* * *
Sam juggled the coffees in his hands to unlock their hotel room door the next morning, and beams of bright sunlight filtered into the room. He’d purposefully left the curtains wide open so the sunlight would stream in.
“Is the princess awake?” he yelled as he closed the door.
“You are too loud,” she hissed from the bed.
A knowing smile grew on his face. Yes, he wanted to kiss her again. A whole lot more than kiss. But teasing Iris was still his favorite hobby. “It’s already ten a.m. Doesn’t your fifteen-minute-chunk schedule have us going on a Benning Falls cidery tour?”
She sat up, rumpled, with her thick chestnut hair looking like cats had fought in it. Locks of it hung down on either side of her face. She’d woken up and changed into his oversized Bruins jersey at some point in the night.
“You have two coffees,” she said slyly, her morning voice throaty.
It was lusty and would haunt his thoughts, he just knew it.
“You miss no tricks,” he said, handing her the larger cup. “You said you love fall lattes, so I took a guess.”
She took a sip and her face instantly lit up. “Oh my gosh, this is amazing!” she exclaimed as if he had delivered the most unbelievable thing to her.
“They make it there, I guess. The pumpkin spice syrup.”
“Jesus.” She took another long pull on the to-go cup. “This almost makes a hangover worth it if I get this.”
He shrugged, feeling proud of himself as he grabbed a donut from the bag he’d bought and sat gingerly on the side of the bed.
That morning, he’d woken up again with her tangled around him, nearly on top of him. As he’d gently rolled her away, she’d grabbed for him, still asleep.
His chest tightened with nerves. Christ, they hadn’t had a serious discussion like this…maybe ever. “We should talk.”
“Are you breaking up our fake relationship?” She snorted through her cup of coffee.
He willed her to meet his eyes. “If you want to chalk up everything to the spur of the moment and the alcohol yesterday, we will wipe the slate clean.”
She bit her lip in response, looking unsure.
“But”—he inched closer to her—“you said you wanted to be brave last night. What did you mean?”
She pushed her hair out of her face with a hand entirely covered by the sleeve of his jersey. His cock jumped at that one motion, and he felt a new wave of possessiveness.
Maybe my shirt will smell like her perfume when I get it back. Her curves and that rumpled, sleepy look had him half-hard already.
She shook her head as if amazed at her own stupidity. “I didn’t know it could feel like that. And it was only a kiss, and we’re two adults who can do whatever we want, but...” She bit her lip. “Plus all of our history, and I know I’m not your type. I’m probably imagining things?—”
“You’re not imagining things,” he interrupted her quickly, his heart beating outside his body. “And how do you even know my type?”
“I saw the girl you brought to Andrew’s wedding. And the one who could be a swimsuit model at Alisha’s.”
“Just because they were both blonde and athletic doesn’t mean anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. They were gorgeous model girlfriends.’’
“You’re drawing a definitive conclusion from two data points. So obviously, A, you need to go back to journalism stats class?—”
She smiled and kicked him with her foot from under the covers. He grabbed her ankle, preventing her from pulling it back to her chest.
“And, B, you were right last night. That was a great fucking kiss. Maybe the best.” His breath felt like it was trapped somewhere in his larynx. It would be so easy now to pull her the rest of the way closer to him.
Slide his hand into her hair and tug her mouth to his. Taste the sugar on her lips while he tried everything he could to make her moan.
She didn’t yank her foot away, and he stroked her ankle with his thumb.
When you knew each other so well, every new stray touch felt intentional. Like it was a challenge to deflect back.
She hadn’t moved.
“Even if I agree, I’m not... I’m not interested in anything that will tie me down ever again.” She sipped her coffee, not looking him in the eye.
“Jesus, Bertone.” He let out a sigh. “It was a kiss, not a marriage proposal.”
She flung the pillow next to her and he dodged it with a smile as he squeezed her ankle.
She took a shaky breath. “This is my one chance, you know? The big leap into the big leagues. I don’t want to fuck it up and get distracted, not right now. I can’t let this chance pass me by again. I have to impress Ben.”
Not everybody had a dad who made introductions for you when you got out of college. Who made sure you had the best internships, made sure that you didn’t have to worry about paying your bills as you were starting out.
Iris was a great writer, and she deserved to not be distracted, even if they were potentially competing for the same role. His hand fell away from her ankle.
“Makes sense,” he said quietly. “Just friends, then.”
“After twenty years, we’re finally friends?” she said with a sly smile.
“We’ll consider it on a trial basis.” He tossed the bag of donuts to her. “We’ll need to skip the tour. See you at the car in an hour. Sumac Manor is next.”
* * *
“How did this one get on the list?” Sam peered through the SUV’s window at the ominous wrought iron gates in front of them.
“Probably the same way a cult got on it?” Iris said with a grimace. “Half-assed research skills from D it was close to eight o’clock. The check-in had taken forever after the not-a-Victorian-ghost had spent twenty minutes going over safety rules of the property.
“Sleep in the car?” he said, looking at her in the mirror as she washed her hands.
“I would literally rather sleep in a sex dungeon. So yes, the car sounds great.”