Page 44

I knocked once.

The door opened almost immediately.

Sam stood on the other side of it, in basketball shorts and a black T-shirt, barefoot, smirking.

"I knew you were coming," he said. "I ordered you ribs and a spiked strawberry lemonade from your favorite spot."

I didn’t say anything.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom like I owned him. I finally understood I had a right to want more and e would give it to me.

I pulled him into the bathroom.

He didn’t say anything.

Just leaned back against the sink and watched me as I worked.

The shower steamed up quick, hot enough to fog the mirror in seconds.

I peeled off my shirt, tossing it somewhere behind me.

Kicked off my boots, shimmied out of my leggings—

not looking at him, because if I looked, I might lose my nerve.

He didn’t say a word.

I could feel him—his eyes heavy as fingertips tracing my flesh.

When I finally turned, he was already pulling his shirt off, and I mapped out the places I wanted to kiss.

His eyes were heavy, he looked almost pained.

We stepped into the shower together, the spray washing over our dirty skin, plastering my hair to my back.

His hands found my waist first.

Then my hips.

He slid his fingers over my stomach, up to my breasts, cupping them like he needed to memorize me.

I kissed him this time.

Pressed my mouth to his.

He groaned low in his throat, grabbing the back of my neck, deepening the kiss.

His mouth tasted like Hennessy. The water beat down on us, but I only felt him.

His tongue sliding against mine.

His hands everywhere.

His dick pressing against my thigh, hard and ready.

When he finally lined himself up, rubbing the head between my slick folds, I whimpered.

He pulled back just enough to look me dead in the eye.