Page 21

Samantha

I lie in bed, my body still while my mind races and my heart thuds out of control; my skin is both hot and cold, my lips feel like they’re on fire, the rest of me wants to shiver with each stray draft that brushes against my perspiration-covered skin. I can still taste him, every smoky, bourbon-flavored bit of him. When I rest my head against the pillow and close my eyes, that kiss replays on the inside of my eyelids and I have to bite my lip to keep back the moan that burns to escape my flushed chest.

How can I sleep?

How can just lie here when the man who did that to me sits on the other side of the room, bourbon in front of him, sketchpad and pen in his hand, and a look on his handsome face that’s both unreadable and so enthralling that all I can think about is just how he’d look when I’m kissing his neck, his chest, his abs, and lower still?

How?

I open my eyes and look at him, catch him looking back at me.

“Sleep, Samantha,” he says quietly. “I’m going to be awake for a while, but you need to get rest when you can. We don’t know what chances we’ll have to sleep in the future. And if you even think about telling me I should take the bed because I’m hurt and need my rest, yes, you’re right, and I’ll take it soon enough. But only when I’m ready to sleep. When that time comes, I’ll wake you — but for now, you take it.”

I nod, but even as I close my eyes again, sleep remains elusive.

The thoughts of Diesel, of his kiss, of the intense connection between us, refuse to quiet.

After a few more restless minutes, I sit up and look over at him.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" I whisper.

He glances up from his sketchpad and resignation flickers across his handsome features.

"Don't feel like it," he replies with a small shrug. "Our conversation earlier, it's still got me in my head. Drawing helps clear my thoughts."

I chew my lower lip while the seeds of an idea germinate in my head. Before I can second guess myself, I slip out from under the covers and pad barefoot across the room to where he sits.

Diesel watches my approach with one eyebrow arched.

"Will you draw something for me?" I say as I sit beside him.

Surprise flashes in his eyes, followed by a hint of amusement.

"Alright," he says after a moment. "I'll draw whatever you want, if it'll finally get you to go to sleep."

I hesitate, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. The intense emotions swirling inside me threaten to burst free at any moment—the desperate longing, the all-consuming lust for this man who is so much more than just a pretty face and skilled hands. When Diesel opened up to me earlier, baring the painful roots of his soul, I felt like I was seeing a side of him he keeps locked away, hidden from the rest of the world. And in that raw vulnerability, the magnetic pull between us only intensified into an irresistible force.

I ache for him with an intensity that borders on painful; I crave so much more than the searing kiss we shared; I want to feel his powerful hands roam every inch of my body; I want to taste the salt on his skin while I trail my tongue along the hard muscles of his chest and abs; I want to discover what other sounds I can coax from him besides that sinful groan while I wrap my lips around him. I'm drawn to him like a moth to flame, and I'll ecstatically let his heat consume me.

"Me," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper but still ringing with bold certainty.

Holding Diesel's penetrating gaze, I reach for the hem of my shirt and peel it over my head. His eyes widen and darken as I let the garment fall forgotten to the floor. Inch by inch, I shed the rest of my clothing until I'm standing bare before him, exposed in a way that feels just as naked and vulnerable as he was with me earlier.

“Are you sure?”

“I want this.”

The atmosphere shifts, thickens with a tension so palpable I can almost taste it on my tongue. Diesel rises from his seat and takes a step towards me, his smoldering gaze never leaving mine.

“You want this?”

My breath catches in my throat as he reaches for me and his calloused hands gently cup my face. His touch is electric and jolts of white-hot desire race through my veins. I lean into his palm, savoring the rough warmth of his skin against mine. This is everything.

“I want it.”

“I’ll give it to you.”

“Please.”

Diesel leans in, his breath hot against my parted lips, and then, in an instant, he's kissing me, consuming me with a kiss that steals the air from my lungs. It's deep and passionate, pouring gasoline on the flames that have been smoldering inside me all night. I moan into the kiss, and tangle my hands in his hair to tug him even closer.

Diesel grabs me by my bare waist and pulls my body flush to his chest. I melt into him, savor the addictive taste and feel of his kiss upon my eager lips, while a breathy moan escapes me. His tongue caresses mine, each sensual stroke sends bolts of liquid fire straight to my core.

Shaking, I cling to his broad shoulders, my nails digging in, anchoring myself lest I fly apart from the sheer intensity of giving myself to this man.

“I don’t think you want me to draw you,” Diesel murmurs, smirking.

“Maybe I don’t,” I whisper, stopping only to kiss him. The taste and feel of him against my tongue is more intoxicating than anything in that bottle of bourbon. “You remember that argument we had earlier about who gets the bed?”

“I do.”

“What if we share it?”