Chapter 28 Sam
SAM
I’m such an idiot.
Too many damn hours wasted on Thibault, and for what?
Another circular conversation filled with half promises and veiled control.
I should’ve listened to Bas. Every instinct in me screamed to walk away, but I stayed, trying to convince myself I could find a middle ground with a man who doesn’t believe in them.
Bas has seen men like him before, ones who mistake power for partnership.
And now I’ve let myself get strung along.
By the time I leave, the bar is nearly empty, my patience long gone and my temper barely contained. I wanted to build something pure, something mine. Instead, I’ve spent half the night defending my vision to a man who sees only dollar signs. Yes, I want profit, but above all, I see purpose.
And worse, I missed time with Olivia.
A text from Alec comes through as I pull into my driveway.
Took her home to your place. She’s safe. Bas is in bed.
Relief washes over me, followed by a sharp ache in my chest. I picture her curled in my sheets, her dark hair splayed across my pillow, and all the tension I’ve been carrying cracks open.
I don’t bother turning on the lights as I enter.
The house smells faintly of her—vanilla, soap, and something soft.
She’s exactly as Alec said.
Curled on her side, my shirt barely covering her, she looks like a dream I don’t deserve. The rise and fall of her chest is slow and even, peaceful in a way I haven’t been all night.
I strip down quietly and slide under the sheets, fitting myself against her back, careful not to wake her. She stirs, a small sound escaping her lips as I pull her closer, my arm draping around her waist. Her warmth seeps into me, melting the frustration, the anger, the noise.
I press my face into her hair and breathe her in. I may have screwed up tonight, but right now—holding her—it feels like the world has stilled.
And somehow, for the first time all evening, I can breathe.
The morning finds me before she wakes. Olivia’s still tangled in the sheets, pressed against me, one leg thrown over mine like she’s claiming me in her sleep. I smile, unable to help it.
I slip out of bed quietly and head to the bathroom, splashing cool water on my face, trying to shake off the remnants of last night. But when I return, my steps falter.
The sight of her stops me cold.
My Vedder T-shirt—the one she stole and swears smells better than hers—has ridden up, revealing the perfect curve of her hips, the soft lines of her body laid out across my bed.
The scrap of lace she calls underwear leaves nothing to imagination.
Her legs are slightly parted, a silent, sensual invitation that hits me like a punch to the gut.
My pulse kicks up. Every rational thought evaporates.
All I can think about is her.
How she tastes.
How she sounds when I make her lose control.
I sink to my knees beside the bed, my fingers brushing the lace aside, and lower my mouth to her because resisting her has never felt like an option.
Olivia wakes with a gasp and a whimper, my mouth on her sex, devouring her sweet pussy.
My tongue circles and twirls her clit as her hands grab my hair.
Her nails lightly scrape my scalp, each tug and pull of my hair directly linked to my cock and balls, which are lengthening and tightening as I consume her.
Her loud, pleasurable cries encourage me to bring her to the brink, and at the same time, her gratification pushes me closer and closer to the edge. My tongue thrusts in and out, fucking her, tasting her, so wet, sweet, and tart.
With one final plunge, my lips latch onto her sensitive spot and suck the ever-living daylights out of her. Like a firecracker, she explodes with shouts of my name.
Before she can catch her breath, my hands grab her hips and whip her over onto all fours. Without wasting time to remove her panties, I suit up, move the fabric to the side, and mercilessly impale her.
She gasps, “God, Sam,” beseeching like I’m the answer to everything.
Rocking back and forth from behind, I’m at first slow and steady, then teasingly deep and hard.
I want to hold on, make this last as long as I can for both of us.
Her face is buried in the pillow, and yet her muffled moans are still audible.
I fucking love hearing her need, her desire.
Knowing what I do to her drives her crazy is like an aphrodisiac.
I pound relentlessly into her, and I’m so fucking close. My orgasm builds in my balls, the pressure mounting and dancing up my spine, but not yet, not until she comes again.
I lean over her and slide my fingers through her slick folds.
Olivia’s head snaps up, and a shuddering breath releases from her parted lips.
She’s so responsive, arching and bowing with every slow rub on her sweet, sensitive bud.
It doesn’t take long before she’s panting and tensing, taut and ready to explode.
Pulling her up with her back flush to my front, my hand cups and kneads her breast as my thumb and forefinger pinch her tight nipple. She spasms, clenching around my cock. Fuck. She likes it, and I fucking love it. Knowing she’s close and that I brought her there feeds my fire.
Together, with long, hard, deep plunges, I hit the spot that drives her mad, that brings her closer to blinding bliss, over and over again. She spasms around my cock, her cries carnal and piercing as she peaks.
Seeing her come undone, shattered, at her most pure, sends me barreling toward my own release. Tensing, strung tight with a glaring intensity, I erupt on a roar of, “Olivia.”
Reluctantly, I pull out and remove the condom, tying it into a knot and tossing it in the can without letting her go.
With her now on her back, I hover above, my mouth covering hers, and I probe and taste her completely.
All my want, every second of need since the last time I saw her, every minute of longing goes into our kiss.
“Damn, that was the best good morning I’ve ever had.” Her voice is breathy. “You can wake me up like that any day.”
“It’d be my pleasure,” I whisper huskily while trailing kisses down her neck. I could take her again. No matter how many times I have her, I can’t get enough of her.
“How’d it go last night? What time did you get in?” She runs her fingers gently through my hair.
“Sorry.” I rest my head on her chest, the hypnotic beat of her heart settling the frustration of thinking back to yesterday. “It was a waste of time. I should have left with you. I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” Her hands cup the sides of my face. “No need to apologize. Why do you say it’s a waste of time?”
I’m surprised at her question because she dislikes the Thibaults, and while she has reason to after Yasmine’s ridiculous threat, she’s never said anything negative.
She’s always been neutral, but she’d prefer that I walk away.
I would think she’d be happy and not want to probe or know anything else.
“Bas is right.”
“He’ll want to hear that.” She beams.
“Yes, I’ll be sure to tell him, and he’ll love saying he told me so.” He chuckles, ruefully. “Daniel is controlling. There have just been a few instances where he’s said things that haven’t sat well with me, leading me to believe he’d want to call the shots.”
Kissing me, she sits up, scooting till her back’s against the headboard, the sheet secure around her. “What are you going to do? Don’t you need him?”
I pull her close. “I don’t need an investor, but I’d prefer to have one.
There are other investors interested, a few actually, so it doesn’t have to be Daniel.
It would mean starting from scratch with the vetting process, which isn’t a big deal.
It just delays things a bit, and could impact a few aspects of getting started.
I have options, and I know I’ll figure it out. ”
She worries her bottom lip, her teeth nibbling her lush, pink flesh. My thumb stops her chewing as concern storms her wide eyes.
“I wish I could help.”
Smiling, I kiss her forehead, breathing in her sweet scent that calms and comforts me. “You do help. Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’ll work out.”
I capture her lips with my own, and my tongue invades her mouth. Her soft, warm skin against me, being this close to her, ignites my need to taste her, be with her again.
“Nuh-uh, Samson Beaulieu.” I hear the smile in her voice as she pulls away. Beholding her warm chocolate eyes, I brush a stray curl from her forehead. “We’re supposed to be spending the day with Bas and Alec. We’ll never get out of here if you do that.”
Pushing up, she rushes from the bed with me close behind, grabbing, then picking her up around the waist. She’s not getting away that easily. She squeals but doesn’t fight me. In fact, she does the opposite, wrapping her arms and legs around me as I take her to the shower.
We end up at their house for the day. Bas is not well and remains in bed the entire time we’re there, in and out of sleep, and Olivia insists we stay by his side.
It’s then I know I love her, although I’m pretty sure it was so before this moment.
I haven’t told her yet, not because I don’t want to—I do, more than anything—but because I know she’s not ready.
“Samson, there’ll be times to be strong and times to be vulnerable. Be both.” Bas clears his throat and it seems more like he’s giving me time to let his words sink in. “Let Olivia be there for you.”
He’s been doing that all day. Randomly offering words of wisdom, and sometimes he’s even talked about his past, memories from his childhood or a moment with me or Alec. I gently squeeze his now frail hand.
“And ma chérie, the same goes for you. Don’t waste time because of fear or uncertainty. Life will always be uncertain and not always easy, but live it.”
Olivia’s lips quiver as she wipes the lone tear sliding down her cheek. “I will, Bas,” she reassures him, kissing him on the forehead. He closes his tired blue eyes, a slight upturn to his mouth.
Seeing her with my family, experiencing the love, kindness, and patience she has for us all, cocoons me and fortifies my soul.
During our stay, there are times when I must leave the room, unable to contain my anger at the unfairness of it all. Without words, she understands. She stays, takes care of Bas and Alec so I can leave, so I can pull myself together.