19. Chapter 19
After refilling my cocktail, I wander around, searching for signs of my two missing friends, Hannah and Lisa. Between the thumping music and the flowing drinks, I’ve practically forgotten Sam’s quip about me being on top. He is right, after all.
With my confidence back, I opt to ride this high of beating Sam at beer pong for as long as possible. I even dance my way across the living room. I don’t think anything will bring me down. When I get through the crowd, I find Lisa on the couch with Brent’s tongue down her throat.
Ew.
At least I found her. Dancing my way back through the room, I pull my phone out and text Hannah. I haven’t seen her at all since I came back in. Knowing that she left the garage with some guy I’ve never seen before has my hackles up.
When my phone dings a minute later, I relax as I see a string of emojis. It’s our secret message way of communicating. As long as she sends specific emojis in a specific order, I know she’s okay.
With my friends all accounted for, I finish off my drink and head back to the kitchen. I’m on a roll tonight, so why not celebrate? As I’m nursing my fourth…or maybe fifth, rum and Coke. I lean my head back against the wall and shut my eyes.
“Oh, I didn’t realize there was a cheaters-only section of the kitchen.”
My eyes pop open, finding Sam perched in front of me with his head cocked to the side. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, nothing. Just referencing your little show out there.” He juts his chin toward the garage.
I snort before sipping my drink. “You’re just mad I beat you at something.” Leaning my head back, I shut my eyes again.
“You had help.”
When I snap my head up to glare at him, the whole room spins, and I’m glad the wall is sturdy. “So did you, but even Ace couldn’t save your lack of skill.”
“Who?”
“Your partner out there. He hardly missed.”
“So, you gave him a nickname?” Sam quirks an eyebrow. “How drunk are you?”
I scoff and take another sip. “Not drunk enough to put up with you.”
“But drunk enough to strip in front of a bunch of people?”
I’m taken aback by his tone. He sounds almost, I don’t know, jealous. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re so easily distracted.”
“I think the whole room was distracted by you.”
The burn of desire in his gaze makes my stomach flutter. “Yeah, but you’re the one who missed his shot.” In more ways than one. I tip up my cup, ignoring the slight wince in Sam’s expression. As I finish my drink, I push off the wall. “I need another one,” I say, but the room spins again, and I stumble forward.
“Whoa, there.” Sam catches me by the elbows. “Are you sure you need more?”
“I’m fine. It’s these damn heels,” I lie.
His gaze slides down my length to my shoes and back up. “Those are tall. Can you stand?”
I shrug out of his grasp. “Yeah, thanks,” I say, smoothing out my costume. As I raise my head, I drag my gaze up his gorgeous tuxedo-covered frame. “What are you supposed to be?”
“007.”
“Who?”
He leans down and puts his lips to my ear. “Bond. James Bond.”
I shudder as his hot breath spills down my neck, but reel myself in as he stands back up. Staring at his handsome face, I can’t help the wave of longing that washes over me. I reach up to tap the edge of his glasses. “Does James Bond need these?”
He ducks his head. “Not normally, no. But I didn’t want to risk passing out here and sleeping in my contacts.”
“Smart thinking.”
A blush rises in Sam’s cheeks at my compliment, but he covers it by downing the rest of his drink. “Who’s your favorite Bond?”
“No idea.” I shrug. “I’ve never seen a James Bond movie.”
“What? That should be illegal.” Something like offense slides across his face before melting as he rakes over my body. “As should your costume. A cop, right?”
“Not just any cop. I’m Ray Simpson.” That’s right, I Googled him.
“Who?”
The outrageously confused expression on his face makes me laugh. “The cop from the Village People. Lisa’s into disco music, remember?”
“Oh.” He licks his lips. “Well, I think you fill the outfit better,” he says, his voice gruff.
My stomach flips and desire pools low within me.
“So, where are your other villagers?”
“Well, you saw the sailor in the garage. Was she still shipwrecked on Beer Pong Island when you came inside?”
Sam chuckles and nods.
“The other two… I’m not sure where the cowboy, I mean, cowgirl went. She must have rode off into the sunset”?I sigh?“but the construction worker is in the living room, busy getting her foundation laid.”
Sam snort laughs, nearly choking on his drink.
Pride over my cleverness puts a lightness in my chest. “Are you here alone?”
“Nah, I came with a couple of buddies. They’re still in the garage. I saw you when I came in for a refill. Speaking of, do you really want another one?” Sam takes my cup when I nod, brushing past me to mix us both another beverage, and I drink him in.
There’s something completely sexy about a guy in a tux, and Sam is no exception. In fact, he might be my new favorite version. I know what his body looks like under the tux, so it’s no surprise he fills it out perfectly. I wish his jacket wasn’t so long. I’d love to get a glimpse of his ass in those slacks.
brYNN! Get a hold of yourself.
“So, Brynn,” Sam says, drawing out my name as he hands me my cup. “About last Friday...”
My heart leaps into my throat. There are so many things he could bring up about last Friday. What will it be? The success of the study session? My imagined kiss? I really hope he’s not going to rehash our argument.
“Mid-terms went well, so I guess our extended study group was a success.” He tips his cup to his lips.
I blow out a forceful breath. “Yeah, I mean, the professor said the majority of the class passed with a C or higher, but that doesn’t mean they all passed.”
“Still better than the first exam.”
I beam inwardly. I did that. I helped the class earn better grades, but when a nagging little voice in the back of my head reminds me that Sam also helped, I grimace.
“You okay?” he asks.
I turn my grimace into a tight smile. I can’t take all the credit, but that doesn’t mean I have to give him any praise. “Yeah, just thinking about how we still have work to do.”
“So you think the professor wants us to keep the study group going?”
“Probably. She’d say something like ‘never stop working as long as there are improvements to be made.’”
“You sound exactly like her.” Sam rolls his eyes.
I scoff. “Well, I’ve only had her every semester since I was a freshman.”
“My condolences.” Sam lifts his cup, tilting it toward me before taking a sip. “So, I guess this means we’re stuck with each other for a while longer, huh?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” My lips curl into a sly grin as an idea comes to mind. “Unless you want to hand everything over to me.”
He shakes his head, curls flopping about. “Ha! Nice try. I’m not about to give up something that’s going to land me that internship.”
“That internship is mine,” I bite out, putting my hands on my hips. “I’ve been first in line for almost three years; there’s no way you’re getting it.”
Sam’s face twists into mock sympathy. “Aw, Brynn. You’re so cute when someone knocks you down a peg.”
“Excuse me?”
“The look on your face right now is exactly the same as that night at the bar when I got on the bull. And it’s also how you looked when you found out about my ninety-eight percent. It’s adorable.”
My red Solo cup crinkles as I tighten my grip on it. Nostrils flaring, I glare at Sam and his stupid self-satisfied expression.
Seemingly unaffected by my anger, he opens his mouth to speak, but his attention flicks to the side and the teasing glint in his eyes turns to panic in one second flat. He grabs my wrist, pulling me around the corner and through a doorway. Before he shuts the door, I grab a glimpse of boxes and cans of food.
“Um, Sam, why are we in the pantry?”
With a groan, he lets his forehead fall to the door. “Because Maya just walked in.”
“Maya? From lab?”
“Yeah.” He flicks the light switch, bathing us in low, incandescent light. “If she would’ve seen me, she never would’ve left me alone.”
I fold my arms. “Would’ve saved me some trouble.”
He turns, a glare on his face, but says nothing.
“What? I say that because you and I were about to rip into each other again. Technically, Maya stopped what would have turned into a brawl.”
His mouth ticks up on one side. “I think I could take you.”
“But you’re afraid of Maya?” I say in a teasing tone.
“No. I’m not afraid,” he bites out. “Just exhausted. She never stops talking.”
I throw my hand over my mouth to muffle the laughter that bursts from me.
“Why is that funny?”
I hold up my finger, signaling I need a second to catch my breath. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”
“Well, you’re not.” He folds his arms and leans against the shelves.
“So, what’s your plan? You going to hide out in here all night?”
“No, we’re only hiding until the coast is clear.”
“Ha, no way I’m staying in here with you any longer than I have to.” I take a step toward the door, but Sam doesn’t move. “Excuse me. I’d like to leave now.”
Sam shakes his head. “You’re not leaving until I say so. You’ll blow my cover.”
“Um, try again. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready, which is now.” I lift my cup to twirl it in the air. “I’m going to need a refill soon.”
“There’s juice in here.” His head turns in all directions as is he’s surveying the selves.
“Nope. No way. I’m going to need something stronger if I’m stuck in here with you.”
A flash of hurt graces his face before being replaced with mischief. “I can think of worse company.” His gaze scans my length again, this time lingering on my half-covered chest.
I self-consciously wrap my arms around my middle, but that only emphasizes my cleavage. I drop my arms. “And Maya is that worse company? I really thought you enjoyed her attention.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being flattered by a pretty girl flirting with you.” He runs a hand through his curls. “But being able to hold an intelligent conversation makes all the difference.”
The smolder in his eyes makes my mouth run dry, so I take another drink. I keep drinking until my cup is empty, then turn it upside down. “Time for a refill. Move please.”
“Nope.”
“Sam. Get out of the way.”
“Uh uh.”
I narrow my eyes at him. When I catch his gaze flick down to my chest again, an idea pops into my head. “But Sam...” I purr, pouting my lips and batting my fake lashes. “Please?”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I exaggerate the syllables, letting my tongue slide between my teeth.
He swallows deeply. “Stop it, Brynn.”
I clasp my hands in front of me and use my biceps to push up my breasts. “Why? You liked it earlier.”
He downs the last of his drink, crushes the cup, and tosses it to the side. With one big step, he closes the gap between us. One of his hands loops around my waist, yanking me to him and making my stomach flip, while the other cups the back of my head.
I drop my cup and splay my hands across his chest, a thrill shooting through me, both from shock and desire.
“I still like it,” he growls before crashing his mouth to mine.
At first, I want to protest, but I quickly fall into a swoon. His kiss is as I remember, tender with notes of passion laced through it. With a moan, I thread one of my hands into his hair, and the other grips onto his muscular shoulder.
As he slowly unzips my costume, the anticipation of his touch builds within me. When he slides his hand along the bare skin of my stomach and up my ribs, I’m on fire, but he’s not done.
He brushes his fingers over my lacy bra, and hums. “So sexy.” His warm palm runs over my hardened nipples, the sensation almost too much to bear.
My knees buckle, but he catches me. He braces me against the shelf, running his hand over my ass and under my thigh to hike up my leg. I hook it around his waist so that our hips meet. His hard length presses against my apex, and I gasp. I’ve forgotten how good that feels.
How good he feels.
He very gently grinds against me, sliding his hard cock up and down. I’m moaning my head off, but luckily, the party is loud enough I’m sure no one can hear us. When he presses harder, my head flops back. Sam takes full advantage.
Peppering kisses along my cheek and jaw, he nuzzles into the crook of my neck. His hot breath cascades down my skin as his hand slides down my body. It settles between my thighs, his fingers caressing my soaking wet lacy panties.
He pushes the fabric aside and slips two fingers inside me. With a shudder, he whispers, “So wet. All for me?”
My response is to moan and twist my fingers tighter into his hair, pulling him closer.
He continues to suck, kiss, and nip at my neck and shoulder. His fingers work their magic as his thumb massages my swollen clit. The pressure building inside of me has me digging my nails into his shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. He keeps his tempo, rubbing me the right way. I’m so close to my climax, but I don’t want it to end yet.
Sam ends it for me when he bites out, “Come for me.”
I meet that glorious crest head on. My body shudders with release as I cry out his name, but he doesn’t stop. His tempo slows, but he keeps moving his fingers until I’m completely finished. Slowly, my grip on him eases. He releases me from his embrace, allowing me to stand on my own.
As I steady myself on my own two feet, I look up at him through my lashes. The adoring, longing expression on his face rips the air from my lungs once again. I want nothing more than to pull him in for another searing kiss so I can ride him cowgirl style until the cows come home.
But before I can act, the pantry door opens, and light spills in. Some drunk guy dressed like a pirate steps through the doorway, but stops immediately when he sees us. Realization spreads across his face in the form of a shit-eating grin.
“Sorry,” he says, snickering. “Thought this was the bathroom.”
“Well, it’s not. Get the fuck out!” Sam shouts, but it’s too late.
Getting caught made everything suddenly very real for me. I run, as best I can in these heels, straight out the door, not bothering to zip my costume. Sam calls out after me, at least I think he does. The music is too loud, but the pounding of my panicking heart is louder. It’s drowning out everything around me.
I bolt through the house and out the front door, not giving two shits about the freezing air as I tear down the street. Within minutes, I’m back home. I fling the door open, crashing it into the wall, and slam it shut. In my room, I flop onto my bed, covering my face with my pillow and screaming into it.
What the fuck was I thinking? Bottom line is, I wasn’t. Yet again, Sam Eastman busted through my walls and kept me from weighing the consequences of my actions. It’s like he impairs my ability to think things through.
I’m sure the alcohol didn’t help, but even when I’m drunk, Lisa says I’m still an annoying over-analyzer. So, what’s my problem?
“Ugh,” I groan into my pillow. How am I going to face Sam in class after this?
I need Lisa, but I don’t want to ruin her fun. I pull out my phone to text her that I’m home and that everything is okay, that I’m just tired. My drama can wait until tomorrow. Maybe a good night’s sleep will help me sort things out.