19. Samantha
Chapter nineteen
Samantha
How dare Stan go and rile me up like this. He has no right.
I want to pull away, but we’re locked in a passionate embrace. An embrace that I’ve fantasized about for weeks now.
My tongue is seeking entrance to his mouth. He accepts my invasion, tilting his head to suck on my tongue, surprising me. A little moan escapes my mouth.
I like it. No… I love it.
I’m enjoying this, and he knows it. His lips are firm, his tongue is soft, and his stubble rasps against my skin, sending sparks skittering over my body. Stan is savoring me. He makes every touch, every point of contact feel like it lasts longer and goes deeper than should be humanly possible.
Stan Holt definitely knows what he’s doing. He’s somehow mastered the ability to make time stop just by kissing me.
I feel him. I love it.
I taste him. I love it.
My palms are itching to touch him, so I slide them beneath his shirt. His warm skin and the light smattering of hair just above his belt buckle make me groan into his mouth. He nips at my bottom lip in response, then dives back into working my mouth. My fingers inch upward, exploring the ridges I peeked at the night we were together after we swam in the lake.
I whimper softly, arching against him. “Stan,” I breathe his name, my voice a stranger to my ears. I want to try to push him away. I want to stop.
I want to stop before I end up taking off my clothes outdoors and have him take me against the wall.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs back. “We should probably stop.”
I smile and am about to agree with him, but he cuts me off, tugging my hair again a little harder, leaving my neck completely at his mercy.
“No… wait, please…” I murmur, but my body decides to ignore me. I get on my tippy toes, giving him full access to my neck.
He doesn’t waste the opportunity—his mouth is on my neck, biting, kissing, licking.
“You… said… we should probably stop,” I mutter lamely. My hand secures his nape, keeping him in place enough to let him continue biting and tasting me.
I roll my head back and press my breasts out toward him. I swear my body already knows what my head has had an impossible time wrapping itself around. I expect him to laugh, but he takes his mouth off me, and I want to stamp my foot. I want to plunge us straight back into that frantic moment of need. I want to be consumed by him.
“I said probably.” The wild look remains in his eyes as he pulls away, only far enough to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry, though. For doing it again. ”
We both know he’s not sorry, but he just watches me for a moment. I’m worried he’ll leave. Stop. Throw in the towel and walk away. He swallows, and I watch his throat, fighting the urge to bite him just the way he did me.
“Are you really sorry?” I ask.
His voice comes out soft and deep, almost pained, as he murmurs, “No, I’m not.”
And then he kisses me again, but it’s different this time. Soft, tender. The pads of his fingers curl under my chin, and then his knuckles stroke my cheeks. My chest aches with the sweetness of it, and I press myself closer to him. Wanting his heat, his touch, his protection.
I’m still upset about how he acted in the pub…I think. I don’t know. I remember I was angry. I mean, that’s why I brought him out here in the first place.
I’m glad I got angry. I got to see him jealous. I got to taste his own anger and frustration.
Because no matter how much he infuriated me tonight, I’d be a fool not to recognize that the man kissing me right now would ride headfirst into battle with me. For me, he’d cut people down with his words. Scorch them with his glare. Humiliate them with his directness. And after everything this past month has done to me, has turned my life upside down, I am longing for him in a completely unfamiliar way.
I grip his silver chain and press down on his leg. If I could crawl right into his lap and have him pet me like a fucking cat, I would. I’d purr for him.
The kiss slows, and I can sense his retreat before it’s even happened.
“Wait… please don’t stop,” I beg.
He looks at me and grins. “I did say we should probably stop. ”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to.” It’s a pathetic plea. Where’s my pride around this man? He’s making me feel like a desperate teenage girl right now.
He takes his hands off my face and props them on the wall behind me before dropping his head to the crook of my neck. My hands roam gently over the back of his head as he dusts kisses across the top of my shoulder, making my body break out in gooseflesh.
“I should,” he says.
“You shouldn’t,” I insist, raking my fingers through his hair like I’ve seen him do so many times before.
“I must. You know this isn’t okay.”
I frown. “Huh?”
His head turns to face me now, and he stares at me. My body trembles under the weight of it, like it always does, and his eyes narrow like he’s noticed. He doesn’t miss a single thing.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. “What do you mean, this isn’t okay?”
His hands remain propped above me, and I’m practically riding his leg. He’s caged me in, and I’m happy to stay right where I am. Even with his menacing, dark gaze boring into me.
“Sam, I told you to make sure you were single the next time you asked me that.”
I’m still lost. I really don’t understand what he means. I’m single now, after all.
O h, wait. He doesn’t know yet.
Now his attitude makes sense. And the way he behaved in the pub.
“He doesn’t deserve you. ”
“Huh?”
“Mr. Nice Guy in oil and gas doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better.”
Stan, you childish man-baby. He’s jealous of my ex?
It’s comical, and I don’t want to ruin the moment. But at the same time, I’m fighting the urge to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he demands. My smirk hasn’t gone unnoticed by him.
“I’m single, Stan,” I tell him.
“What?” He pushes off the wall and takes a step back.
“I didn’t even think about you not knowing yet. That’s why George had a bad day. We broke up.”
Stan winces and rakes both hands through his hair. Yet, every hint of frustration is blended with obvious relief. He only stops when he’s gripping the back of his head, elbows still up in the air. His lips are turned down into a frown, and his eyes are tortured.
“I didn’t…” he stammers. “Damn, I had no idea.”
“And it’s funny you think about me being single now when you already went ahead and kissed me while assuming I belonged to someone else.” The impish smile on my face grows as I watch Stan wince again in shame. “Why did you kiss me?”
He sighs. “I don’t know.”
“Are you finally sorry?”
“No,” he says with no hesitation. “I have no reason to be now.”
But no sooner has he finished saying that than he turns and starts walking away.
“Where are you going?” I call out.
“To apologize to the oil and gas tech bro,” he calls back over his shoulder.
“Why? I thought I had to make you apologize.”
He pauses, considering, his hand pressed against the corner of the building. His eyes slice back to mine almost violently. My entire body tingles.
“Yeah, well, things are different now, and I was almost dumb enough to blow it with you when you’re finally free. The least I can do is apologize.”
“Are you going to come back after?” I hate asking that, hate hearing the desperation in my voice.
Stan finally drops his gaze as if there’s something terribly interesting about his boots. “That’s the thing, Sam. You’re single now, but I’ve gone and made you my employee, and I know you need this job. There is still nothing free and clear about us.”
Then his fingers rap against the vinyl, and he’s gone. Leaving me more confused about him than ever.