Chapter 21
BLYTHE
By some miracle, I manage to sneak back into the estate without seeing anyone.
After we decided that we were going to go on the hike, to avoid raising suspicions of course, I realized I’d have to go back so I could change into something more appropriate than my pyjamas.
Hell, I didn’t even have any shoes. What a sight I would have been joining the hike in pyjamas or something too big from Sam’s suitcase.
I keep expecting to feel… I don’t know, something more extreme than my current level of contentment. A burst of grief or regret—I’m on guard, waiting for the feeling to hit, but as time stretches between this morning and now, all I can focus on is whether or not I’ll find myself in Sam’s bed again.
It probably has something to do with not having Maggi to focus on, and clearly I’ll do pretty much anything to avoid thinking about a move.
Still, my mind wanders back to our conversation.
It’s kind of bizarre that we’re in a similar situation.
Stuck in place because of loss. Or rather using loss as an excuse to avoid making tough choices.
A knock at the door has me jumping out of my skin right as I finish pulling on my leggings, and I open the door expecting to see Martha or Thomas with Maggi.
“Oh,” I squeak as I’m manoeuvred away from the door by a large, hard body.
“I just needed to—” He gently presses me up against the back of the door as one hand trails down my back and the other slips behind my neck, holding me in place as he bends to capture my mouth.
When my hands find his shoulders, he takes it as an invitation and lifts me. His hard length presses against my centre as I hook my legs around his waist, grinding harder against him, wishing I’d answered the door without pants on.
He bites my lower lip, hissing as he presses me harder against the door, chasing the good feeling of where we’re lined up.
A burst of laughter from the hallway has me suddenly wiggling out of his grip and sliding to the ground, trying to catch my breath and eyeing the door as if someone is about to burst through it and yell “Gotcha!”
“That was bold,” I exclaim, leaning against the door, my hand finding the back of my neck, chasing away the sensation of where Sam’s hand had been.
He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and grins down at me, a hundred words translated in a single look.
“I’ll see ya out there, Rosie,” he murmurs, pulling me away from the door and then slipping out of the room.
I’m left standing there unsure what to do next and a little angry that he got me all revved up, and now I have to go be around other people and not act like I’d rather be climbing him than a damn hill.
“Stop it,” I mouth when I catch Sam checking me out for the sixth time.
He shrugs, grinning as he turns back to one of the groomsmen he’s been chatting to and I focus back on the path where stones jut out at random intervals and angles.
“Did you have fun last night?” Sarah asks, dropping back from the group to walk beside me.
“Yeah, it was a great night. Maggi had the best time. More importantly, did you have a good time?”
Sarah doesn’t reply, and when I look over, she’s staring at me with a little smirk on her face.
“What?”
Her gaze jumps to Sam, and my stomach drops. There is no way she knows.
“Ash saw you sneaking in this afternoon while we were all at lunch.”
I remember how careful and stealthy I thought I was being. I hadn’t even waited for Sam to stop the cart before I was jumping out onto the gravel barefoot.
“It’s…”
It’s what? Not what it looks like? I’m acting like a damn teenager that got caught after curfew. But this is Eric’s sister confronting me, and I’m not sure how to navigate this because it is absolutely how it looks.
“Would you relax?” She snorts, squeezing my arm. “You and Sam are literally the second best thing to come out of this marriage.”
“There is no me and Sam,” I hiss.
She scoffs, pulling me to a stop while the stragglers pass.
“It doesn’t have to have a future. But you may as well have fun while you’re both here and have help with Maggi.
” She drops her hand and sighs. “I know you’re thinking about a move here.
He’s pretty dug in out in British Columbia.
You’re both adults, and you clearly have a connection.
We’ve all noticed it since you met at the welcome reception. ”
I’m about to inform her that we didn’t meet at the reception but I keep my mouth shut because I don’t need to give her any further ammunition. She’ll go on and on about how fate has a hand in things, and I don’t need anyone else adding to the complicated feelings I’m already trying to bury.
“Was it good?” she whispers.
“Was what good?”
Sarah rolls her eyes. “Don’t play this game with me.
You know exactly what I’m asking.” She leans in closer, scrutinizing me, her smile growing when she sees exactly what I’m trying to hide.
“Thought so.” She smirks again, then reaches down and grabs my hand, dragging me behind her as we close the gap between us and everyone else.
Sam’s eyes are on me the minute we’re back in the group, his gaze dropping to where Sarah has my hand in a death grip, as if she expects me to disappear. And then Sam’s face disappears and several people gasp.
“Give him room, lads,” Colin hollers, and the hikers step back, a circle widens around where Sam had been standing, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m pushing through the group to see what happened.
Sam is sitting on the ground with his left leg stretched straight, his ankle rolling this way and that while he grimaces.
“Oh,” Sarah exclaims next to me. “You did all that medical stuff in school, right?” she asks, turning to me. Her expression is less quizzical than it should be. It’s conspiratorial.
“Are you a doctor?” Ash asks, looking genuinely shocked.
“No,” I assure her. “I was on a rapid response team in school. We mainly tended to injured drunks.”
“I’m not drunk,” Sam affirms, looking around. “Haven’t been since roughly two years ago.” His brown eyes are intense as they land on me. A reminder that I hadn’t taken advantage of a man with a drunk brain last night.
“Why don’t we help Sam off the trail, and then we’ll continue. We can call for someone to bring the cart up to get you. You don’t mind staying with him, do you, Bly?” Sarah asks innocently.
Everyone is looking at me. If I say that yes, I do mind, I’ll look like an asshole. And I would truly hate to be the one who alerts the rest of the world to the fact that there are indeed some Canadians who are assholes. Heaven forbid I shatter the illusion.
“Sure, why not?” The words are barely out of my mouth before Sarah is grabbing Colin and leading everyone away from us.
“We’ll see you two…whenever.” She winks at me before turning and snuggling into her husband.
I’d hate her if I didn’t love her so damn much.
Sam sits with his hands flat on the ground, leaning back and staring smugly up at me.
“I’m not a nurse, ya know,” I say, kneeling next to him.
He looks at me for a beat, really looks, his face serious before a smile eventually appears. “I know.” He pushes off the ground and in one fluid motion is on his feet. Balanced perfectly without any sign of pain.
“What th—” My words are cut off as his lips seal against mine. I should pull away. Beat him with my fists for faking an injury. But my body reacts to his. My skin burns where his hands touch me. One presses into my lower back while the other works its way into my hair at the base of my skull.
I should be angry that he’s forcing me to kiss him, except my hands are fisted in his shirt, my forearms tight as I pull him against me. He may have been the one who made the first move, but I’m prolonging it. No one is forcing anyone to do anything here.
His tongue caresses mine, his moan mingling with mine. His hard length presses against my abdomen, and I pull him into me harder, suddenly annoyed that we’re fully clothed out in the open.
He stumbles back, pulling me with him, and I realize he’s struggling to keep his balance because I’m the one pushing, trying to get closer with each pass of his tongue.
Sam grunts when his back hits something solid, but he doesn’t ease up.
Instead he spins us around, and my back ends up against the rough bark of a tree.
Sam’s hands shift to my hips, holding me in place while he drops to his knees. The absence of his mouth allows me to take the first proper breath since he kissed me. He rests his head against my hip, his back rising and falling as he works to slow his own breathing.
I don’t know what to do other than run my fingers through his hair. The silky strands pull me back to the early morning. This morning. How was that only this morning?
He tips his head back, his brown eyes feral with want and a question. I don’t even know what he’s asking, but I nod anyway, and relief crosses his face while his fingers curl into the waist of my tights and he begins to pull them down.
There’s a voice screaming that I shouldn’t be letting him do this where anyone could come across us.
We aren’t far from the path. Not totally hidden by the sparse trees.
If we were at home, we’d be hidden. Here we are, practically a beacon in the shade of trees that know the secrets and stories of this land.
A moan pulls my attention back to Sam, who is feathering kisses along my pubic bone, working lower too slowly for our current situation.
But I can’t seem to do anything to will him to move faster.
He’s good at this. Good with his hands and mouth and tongue.
Good at giving me exactly what I want and need without me having to ask.
Urging him on would be like telling an artist to paint faster.
And I would never dream of rushing someone who knows their craft so damn well.