Chapter 27 Sam
SAM
All I’ve been thinking about tonight is getting her home and peeling my favorite shirt off of her body while I kiss every inch of her silky skin underneath it.
When we pull up into the driveway, it’s already dark. I follow her inside the house and into the kitchen. She pours herself a glass of iced water, turning to look at me with big doe eyes.
“Do you wanna watch Twilight?” she blurts out.
I blink at her for a moment, wondering if she’s getting nervous about our next lesson and the proximity of us being here … alone. I rub my sweaty hands over the tops of my jeans.
“I’ve never seen it, but sure.”
Her mouth gapes open. “You’ve never seen Twilight?” she shrieks. “What about New Moon?”
I shake my head. “Is that the one about the shirtless wolf guys?”
She clasps her hand over her mouth before walking over to me and grabbing my hand to pull me into the living room.
“I cannot believe I’ve been living here all this time—during hoa hoa hoa season, no less—and you didn’t tell me you haven’t seen the greatest movie series ever made!
We need popcorn and a cheese board and red wine and cozy blankets. ”
“What’s hoa hoa hoa season?”
“You’ll learn soon enough, Sam Seymour.”
She pushes me down on the sofa and grabs the remote. “I’m about to change your life—forever.”
I grab her around the waist and pull her down next to me before she dares to try and sit on the end or in the chair on the other side of the room.
She lets out an adorable giggle before scooting away from me. “I need to go make the food and grab the wine. A Twilight virginity ceremony deserves snackies.”
“I’ll do it. Sit and pull up your movie.” I peck her cheek with a kiss, internally trying to talk myself out of pinning her down on the sofa before she has a chance to search for the movie.
She bats her thick lashes at me before leaning back against the sofa. “Do you know how to make a cheese board?”
“Can’t be that hard. I did graduate high school.”
She purses her lips, but doesn’t move to stop me. I stand up and go into the kitchen to figure out exactly what a cheese board is.
Ten minutes later, I walk back out to the living room, balancing all her requested “snackies” in my hands.
I decided to use my grandmother’s large wooden serving board she usually pulled out during the holidays to hold everything.
On one end, I have a bottle of cabernet wine I grabbed from the Seymour wine collection—it’s not a cheap one—and I have two copper wineglasses with it.
In the middle, I have a big bowl of popcorn I popped over the gas stove with melted butter and salt sprinkled over it.
On the other side of the board, I arranged cut-up Colby jack and Gouda cheese, piled the turkey and salami deli meat next to it, along with crackers, some strawberries, a slab of butter and mayo and mustard.
I’ve never made a cheese board, but it sounds like fancy adult Lunchables, so that’s what I went with.
Dolly sits up, nibbling on her bottom lip as I set the serving board down on the wooden coffee table in front of her.
“Your snackies, my lady.” I dip my head dramatically, drawing another giggle from the back of her throat.
I am on dangerous ground right now.
I clear my throat as I take the space next to her. “Um, hope this cheese board is worthy of your standards.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
She swipes a piece of cheese, pops it in her mouth, and presses play on the remote.
Her body squishes closer up to mine. I lean forward, grabbing the bottle of wine I opened in the kitchen.
I pour her a glass and hand it to her. Her fingers brush mine when she takes it from me, sending sparks of awareness through me.
I crave the feeling of her skin.
Now that I’ve tasted her and felt her come undone for me, I only want more of her.
What we’re doing now feels intimate in a way that not even hooking up could feel.
Sitting close to her at dinner and now cuddling up with her on my couch—it isn’t something I can justify as being for her safety or that I’m just helping her gain sexual experience for the next guy who comes along.
Okay, so I’m doing it because it fucking feels right and I can’t stop myself. Maybe indulging in something less bruising than a fight is what I need right now.
Since my grandfather’s death, this is the first time I’ve felt truly content, like maybe the world isn’t a massively fucked-up place I’m being forced to live in all alone.
Dolly leans forward to grab the bowl of popcorn and a few strawberries. I kick my boots off before leaning down to tug off her sneakers. She watches me while licking salt off her lips.
“Thanks.”
“Can’t enjoy a movie with shoes on, Dollface.”
She pushes the popcorn bowl toward me. I grab a handful and finally look back at the screen.
“Why is there, like, a green tint over it?”
She shakes her head. “No one knows.”
“What’s this girl’s name?”
“Bella.”
We watch in silence for a few more minutes. I’m starting to get into the storyline, but I have so many questions.
“Why doesn’t he like her?”
Dolly pauses the movie. “Are you one of those people who talks and asks questions the entire time?”
“This is confusing. He’s acting like she has BO or something.”
“So, if you’d read the book, you’d already know this, but he can read minds. But he can’t read Bella’s mind, and she’s the first person he’s ever met whose mind he can’t read.” She takes a sip of her wine.
I grab the bottle and top her off. “So, Edward is the vampire, right?”
She nods. “Oh, and Bella’s blood smells better to him than anyone else, so he’s trying to resist her.”
“Doesn’t he kill people when he drinks them? So he’s just dying to rip her throat out?”
She shakes her head. “No, they can feed without killing. But he only feeds on animals. And her blood just makes him really, really hungry, so he’s just sitting next to the juiciest, perfect steak, and he hasn’t eaten in a week, but he can’t have it.”
Now, that I can relate to.
“All right, play it. I’ll shut up now.”
She presses play, leaning into my shoulder and pulling her feet up under her. “I don’t care if you ask questions, Sammy.”
My body goes rigid. Only my mother ever called me Sammy. I try to relax again, adjusting my position on the couch.
She seems to notice the change in me and peers up at my face through her lashes. “Is everything okay?”
I exhale slowly. My instinct is to pull away back into my familiar, isolated shell. But for the first time, I feel the urge to stick my head out and give someone else a chance to see me.
“My mom called me Sammy.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I liked hearing it again.”
I realize when I say it out loud that it’s true. I do love hearing it, specifically from her.
She lays her head back on my shoulder and looks over at the TV. “What was she like?”
I lift my arm to wrap it around her shoulders and pull her to my chest. I pause for several beats, releasing a few steady inhales before speaking again.
“She was always on the move. She didn’t like sitting in one place or being with the same people for very long.
I know now she was running from drug dealers or pimps she owed money to.
But when I was a kid, she always tried to make it an adventure.
She’d tell me that we were exploring the world, finding all the coolest spots to hang out in.
We collected postcards from gas stations.
We lived in an old camper van that was falling apart.
But we drove that damn thing all over the country together. ”
The faded memories are starting to filter in.
I usually block them out, but I try just letting one or two slip through.
Us at an old gas station, waiting for her “friend” to come by and bring her some cash for us to fill up with gas.
Us eating greasy curly fries at a food truck in the rain, right off the coast of Oregon.
As a kid, it was equal parts scary and exciting.
“The worst part was the nights she would disappear and leave me in the camper van alone. I would sleep with her gun under my pillow, jumping at every whistle from the wind.”
I’ll never tell her the real worst part, which was when she’d bring home her customers. Or when they’d get done with her and some of them wanted to try something new. I’ll never tell a soul about those times.
“That sounds really scary. I can’t imagine going through that, especially so young.”
The tightness in my chest is making me want to change the subject, to stop the memories. I wrap my hand around the side of her hip, squeezing gently.
“That’s why I loved Moonlight Ranch from day one. This place is a haven. It’s safe and secure, a solid foundation that never moves. Only an F5 tornado could destroy this place.”
“It’s hard to picture you that way, so young and afraid. I bet your grandparents were so thankful to get custody and be able to take care of you here.”
I take a long swig of my wine before answering, “Yeah, they were.”
She watches the movie in silence, but her fingers reach out and start tracing circles over the top of my thigh. I squeeze her hip again, realizing that I’m getting more addicted to her being here than I ever wanted to allow myself. She fits here. She fits me.
“What happened to her?” Her voice is so soft and sweet, even though the question feels like having a rock thrown at my chest.
“She overdosed with one of her pimps. The coke was laced with something. I found them in the morning. I had to go out in a snowstorm and look for help. I was so cold that my body went numb, everywhere except my stomach. It had been days since I’d eaten anything.”
“Sam …” Dolly’s voice trails off, echoing with shock and grief.
I look down at her. Tears are streaking down her cheeks.
She blinks, searching my face. “I had no idea,” she whispers.
My fingers tangle in her hair at the nape of her neck, loving the warmth from her body seeping into mine. I always crave body heat, like there’s still a small part of me that’s a frozen seven-year-old boy, completely alone in the snow, desperately searching for comfort.
My lips press a kiss to her cheek, and I taste the salty tears. “Don’t cry for me, Baby Red. I’m okay now. I made it to safety. Some park ranger picked me up. Turned out, we were in Yellowstone.”
I don’t tell her about the months I spent in foster care while the authorities tried to find my closest relative. I didn’t know their names, and my mother had made herself into a ghost. No one knew anything about my father. He abandoned us a few weeks after I was born.
She grabs the front of my shirt, turning her face toward my lips and capturing them with hers.
For a moment, we just hold each other there, sharing a slow, heated kiss.
She presses her body into mine, like she’s trying to share the burden of my sadness, to make sure I feel her in as many places as possible, to know I’m not alone.
I tighten my fingers around her hip, squeezing her harder.
She pushes up off the couch, stretching her leg over my lap and settling herself on top of me.
Her arms wrap around the back of my neck, her fingers interlacing.
My tongue moves against her lips, asking to move in farther.
She opens for me, letting me taste her. The strawberries and wine she was nibbling on gave her a delicious, addictive flavor.
I groan into her, blood rushing down to my groin.
I don’t know how much longer I can resist going all the way with her. As if reading my mind, she brings her hips down and grinds against my erection. Pleasure erupts over me, threatening to spill out way too damn early. I grip the back of her neck, squeezing her and pulling her back.
“You’re gonna need to slow down, Dollface. I need a minute.”
Her lips are swollen, and her eyes are so full of lust that I have to shut mine.
“I don’t want to slow down. I want more. I want it all.” She starts peppering wet kisses along my throat and neck, still grinding her hips over the erection tenting my jeans.
“Dolly, we can’t. I can’t take your virginity.” I’m partially trying to convince myself. Maybe if I say it out loud, it’ll start to sink in.
She presses another kiss just below my earlobe, sucking my skin into her mouth and nibbling with her teeth.
“How is it taking if I’m giving it up to you? Virginity is a stupid, pointless word. I’ve been trying to find a guy to gain experience with, and Ropes promised me that.”
I barely lift my hips, pressing into her more. She moans, shuddering on top of me.
“That feels so, so good.” She’s panting into my ear.
She smells like a campfire, like sex, like home, like everything I’ve ever wanted and denied myself.
Finally, she pulls back from me, fingers still intertwined behind my neck. My eyes bore into hers, checking to see if there’s any hesitation. But all I can detect is shining determination and pure, heady lust.
I press my thumb up against where I know her clit is through her leggings, rubbing in a slow circle. She shudders, letting out a whimper.
“Are you on birth control?”