Page 47

Chapter Seven

Samantha had scurried out of the house before he’d gotten out of bed the next morning. And she wasn’t home when he got in from working the next afternoon.

It was so fricking cold outside he felt like his balls had been on ice all day, which, all things considered, was kind of helpful.

Especially since he’d spent the whole night trying to ignore the hard-on from hell that seemed to be inextricably linked to a shame wave that threatened to wash him away the minute he wrapped his hand around himself.

He’d been awake most of the night, horny and unable to do anything about it. Because he was hard for Sam, and that was something he was ashamed about. Vicious cycle set on repeat.

Thankfully, punishing physical labor in weather that was pushing the negative numbers on the thermometer was helpful for that state. If he couldn’t tame his nether regions he’d freeze them off.

He poured himself some coffee, needing the warmth in spite of the fact that it was past five in the evening, and added just a little bit of booze. To warm himself up. And to make the image of Samantha’s breasts a little less clear in his mind.

He froze at the kitchen counter, his hand wrapped tight around the hot mug. Perfect, pale breasts with little pink nipples. So hard. So delicious. One taste and he craved more with everything in him.

He craved her flavor. Not just her mouth or her breasts. He wanted to bury his face between her thighs and...

Poppy barked and Jace jumped, sloshing his coffee and alcohol mixture over the edge of his cup.

He turned and looked at the dog. “You can read my mind, can’t you?” he said, his tone hostile. Poppy looked confused by what she’d done to earn his anger, but he had no doubt that she knew. That bark was too well timed.

“I can have fantasies,” he said. “It’s my right as a man.”

Poppy tilted her head to the side. Silently judging.

“Clearly you wouldn’t understand. I guess you’ve never met another mutt who lit your fire. It’s probably better in the end. This is all a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

The front door slammed shut and Poppy jingled over to the entryway. He looked out the window and saw Sam’s van parked out front, covered in snow. Oh, so that was why she’d been barking. Fair enough.

He stayed at the counter in the kitchen, cursing his own cowardice.

He was avoiding her for the next thirty seconds.

It seemed the thing to do. And if that made him chicken shit, then fine.

He was. He owned it. But he was extending the moment between now and the awkward silence for as long as possible.

Then Sam walked into the kitchen, holding a cake and wearing a huge grin on her face. “Hi! How was your day? Have cheese sandwiches for lunch? ”

“Leftover chili,” he said, feeling a little stunned.

“Oh. Well, you know, ’cuz of the nostalgia and whatever.” She laughed, a weird, high-pitched sound, and set the cake on the little table by the window. “I brought cake!”

“You’re going to make me fat. It’s going to go straight to my hips,” he said, his tone dry.

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Ha!” Her fake laugh was as overenthusiastic as her fake smile. “Funny. Jace, that’s...funny. Because you’re a man and things don’t uh...they don’t go to your hips.”

“Yeah, Sam, that was the joke. Thanks for explaining it.”

“I’m going to make dinner.”

“What the hell, Sam?”

“What the hell what?”

“You’re fluttering around here chattering like a deranged chipmunk and trying to pretend everything is okay when you know damn well things aren’t okay. You’re trying so hard to act like everything is normal that you’re acting like a nut job.”

“I...I’m not.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, then fidgeted and cocked her hip out to the side, uncrossing her arms and putting a hand on her hip instead. “I’m...fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because of last night.”

“What?” she said, her voice reaching heights that were almost only audible to Poppy. “That was...nothing. We made out.”

He crossed his arms in return. “We made out?”

“Yeah, we kissed. So...so what? No big deal. I’ve kissed guys that I’ve only known for, like, twenty minutes. It’s really only surprising that we’ve never kissed before. We’ve known each other forever. Not really a huge shock that we’d test the waters. Ha. Waters. See what I did there?”

He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him. “Stop,” he said, anger pooling in his gut. “Stop making it a joke.”

“We kissed, Jace. Stop making a huge deal out of it. We don’t need a postmortem. There’s not even a body.”

“Just a kiss?”

“Yeah.”

He swore and released his hold on her, pushing his fingers through his hair. “Just a kiss? That’s what that was to you? That’s why you were digging your nails into my back like that? Do you kiss all your dates that way, baby? Because if so, I’ve been missing out.”

Her whole face turned red. “Stop it.”

“Why? You’re determined to act like nothing happened! You’re lying about it, to me, to yourself...”

“Because this is the alternative!” she shouted.

“Screaming about it and freaking out about it because...because suddenly this bomb went off between us and neither of us could do anything about it. Because it scares the hell out of me, Jace. Because we went from best friends to having a mutual orgasm in a bathtub in about three minutes flat.”

“Actually, Sam, it took fourteen years to get into the bathtub, but I get your point.”

“Aren’t you freaked out?”

“Hell yes.”

“Then why talk about it?”

“Because it happened.”

“But we can pretend it didn’t,” she said, her eyes shining. “Please, Jace, can we pretend it didn’t?”

“How? ”

“By not talking about it,” she said. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” He knew why he was embarrassed. Because, in his estimation, it was pretty obvious why it had been so easy for him to go from friend to bathtub buddy. It uncovered the fact that he had some serious not-so-latent lust where she was concerned.

“Because I...climbed all over you like a...hoochie mama.”

He laughed, in spite of the situation and his own horror at it; he just couldn’t help it. “Sam, that wasn’t what I thought about you.”

“Well, gosh, I don’t know what you thought. I attacked you. I’m horrified. I literally have no excuse except...obviously—” she took a breath “—obviously I’m attracted to you, but the thing is, it’s not really worth doing anything about.”

He felt like he’d been sucker punched. “You’re attracted to me?”

“No, Jace, I think you’re a flipping ogre, that’s why the minute you touched me I had a violent orgasm.”

Heat streaked over his skin and his face got hot, not from embarrassment but from that same dangerous arousal that had overtaken common sense yesterday. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of something to say.

“Obviously it’s mutual,” he said. “I sort of felt like I attacked you.”

“I think I embedded a fingernail in your shoulder.”

“I knew you...liked it,” he said. “But I felt like I must have taken advantage of you and...”

“No. I felt like I jumped you. But it looks like we both sort of feel like the sexual predator and neither of us feel...preyed upon, so that’s...good. And now we can move on. Hopefully we’re both a little less...hair trigger now. ”

He laughed because the alternative was to say: no, no I’m not, if you touched me right now I’d come on contact.

“I know we avoid talking about this stuff, but it’s been...a while for me. Since before the bakery. Since David...so...a long time.”

“Right,” he said, not sure he liked the explaining-it-away thing she was doing. But what was the other option? There wasn’t one. Not really. The other option was to say it meant something. But...he didn’t think he could have it mean something. He was sure she didn’t want it to mean anything.

Burning attraction to your best friend only worked if you were also hopelessly in love with them. Which he was not.

And she definitely wasn’t.

They were just, apparently, mutually hot for each other and in a mutual dry spell. So that explained things. That was the perk of explaining things away, he guessed.

“It’s been a while for me too.” Not that long, but a few months...like...eight now that he thought about it, which was actually a very long time.

“So see? There. Glad we talked.” She patted his arm, then drew back quickly. “This was good. Now we can...be normal.”

“As normal as we are.”

“Yeah, well, normal for us. It will be enough.” She smiled, but the smile still rang false. He smiled back, and he knew his was fake. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Seriously, you don’t have to.”

“Hey, I want to. I like this. I like being here with you.”

The silence stretched between them, not really awkward but full. Of desire on his end, questions. A deep ache that he couldn’t quite define. He wanted more. He wanted something else. Right in that moment he felt like he might want it all.

But there was a reason he was thirty and not anywhere close to being married. He liked his control too much. He liked his space the way he liked it too much.

It wouldn’t make any sense to pursue something more with Sam. Not when it would ruin what they had. Because it would ruin it. Because he would go nuts about Poppy’s fur. Because he didn’t know how to live with someone. He didn’t know how to share his space.

And then he would be left with the burned-out remains of the most important relationship he’d ever had. All because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

No. The longing and aching were just going to have to keep on longing and aching. Because he wasn’t acting on it.

He and Sam were going back to normal.

“I’m going to go wash up then,” he said. “Thank you.”

She looked at him, the expression in her eyes unreadable. “You’re welcome.”

“Movie and popcorn after dinner?”

“Sure. As long as it doesn’t star Bruce Willis.”

“I’ll let you pick.”

“Then we have a deal. And I brought movies with me, so don’t think you’re getting off easy.”