Page 102 of Ballad of Nightmares

ANA COULDN’T SLEEP.

She tried to.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.

There was something different about that night, about the way Sam touched and kissed her, even the way he looked at her. She wondered if she had been the same. If she had kissed him as though it were her last night with him, as it felt like he was doing too.

Even after he’d taken his time devouring every inch of her. Made her explode with the deliberate tease of his tongue, raking over every part of her and making her beg. After he’d fucked her on the bed, the couch, in the shower after she’d spilled beer all over herself. Even after she’d curled up naked in fresh sheets, spent from every orgasm, and he entwined himself in the bed with her.

She couldn’t close her eyes.

She’d laid on her side and stared out the window to the castle in the distance, at the singular amber glow that seemed to radiate at all hours of the day and night. And every time Sam shifted behind her, she tried to bring herself back to the present and not think about all the things she’d done to get to that exact moment.

About all the things she was about to do.

“Ana?”

“Hm?” she said, breaking free of her daze.

Sam sat up on his elbow at her side and pulled her onto her back, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he asked.

She swallowed at the concern in his eyes and shook her head, sighing as she rubbed his forearm. “Just about the gallery,” she lied. “I have that meeting in Castle Corvus next week with the King’s Hand. Getting nervous about it.”

“Take a camera,” he said. “Make sure you get all the photos to sell to some greedy magazine. You’ll be rich.”

Ana almost smiled. Almost.

Sam’s alarm buzzed then, and he groaned heavily, his forehead landing on her chest. Ana’s heart skipped. Panic flooded her body.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She almost choked as she tried to stifle a sob.

How the fuck was she supposed to do this?

“Don’t go,” she said. “Stay,” she whispered…pleaded… as her hand tightened around his arm.

Sam pushed up and kissed her nose. “You know I can’t,” he said, holding her face a moment longer. “I’d rather spend every day like the other day…” He leaned down, his lips landing on her collar, nibbling on her skin. “Holding you. Kissing you…”

Ana’s eyes fluttered at his kisses. She didn’t understand how every time he touched her, she still got butterflies in her stomach.

Not that it mattered the moment he left that bed.

His kisses moved down to the tattoo between her breasts, his tongue licking every swirled flower line, making her back arch up off the bed as her fingers wreathed in his hair. He trailed down and down, taking his time to kiss her soft stomach, leaving behind the cool wetness from his tongue.

“Sam,” she moaned his name, eliciting his smile against her skin. “Don’t go,” she whispered again.

He straightened over her again, jaw ticked, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Why don’t you want me to go?”

She looked at him one last time, her thumb brushing over his cheek, memorizing how he looked at her there, how he’d looked at her the day of the tattoo, and how he’d held her. His laugh… shit, that fucking laugh. She wished she could hear it one more time.

“I like waking up with you,” she whispered.

Sam gave her a half-smile, and he kissed her lips, making her surrender to the softness of this one, his hand wrapping around her waist, tongue sweeping against hers. And even as he started to pull away, she held him tighter.

His brows lifted when he finally managed to straighten over her, and that damn smirk crooked his lips. He squeezed her ass and gave it a smack. “Hang on to that for later,” he said.