Page 16

While beingwith my in-laws isn’t how I envisioned spending my secret non-honeymoon, there are definitely worse ways.

Every time we’re alone, we’re practically glued to each other, and while it’s not often, I commit every touch to memory. And our actual first night as a married couple? Well, needless to say, I’m in awe of Sammy’s ass.

That man is the most persistent SOB I’ve ever known, because yes, he totally had his way and fell asleep with my cock snug inside him.

Was the night full of passion and loud monkey sex? That’s a definite no considering his family’s close proximity, but it was sweet and gentle and perfect all the same.

Today, though, I’ve barely managed a second alone with him.

But that’s okay, since his extended family are entertaining as hell.

Laughter, loud and genuine, fills the table as we stuff our faces with our Thanksgiving meal. There are at least four conversations going on, and I love every moment.

This is the second Thanksgiving I’ve spent with Sammy. It makes me hopeful that this is what all our future Thanksgivings will look like. Hopefully with my folks joining us too. Not that I know where we’re going to live after college.

We’ll be together no matter what. A subject we haven’t broached, but there’s time for that.

“That was incredible. Thanks, Mom, Dad.” Sammy pats his stomach as he places his cutlery on his empty plate. “I’m stuffed. I totally wore the right pants.”

He’s wearing gray sweats because he’s an asshole who likes to torture me. When he moves his leg just so, it shows the perfect outline of his dick. Admittedly, his tee is long enough to cover his crotch, but we’ve already established that my husband is an asshole who lifts his T-shirt whenever I’m looking.

“You too stuffed for dessert? We have pumpkin pie and a pecan pie too,” his dad asks.

My stomach aches at the thought of any more food. And tomorrow’s morning run is going to kick my ass.

“Maybe later for me. That means I can have a slice of each,” Sammy answers.

There’s agreement around the table from his family. There are a lot of folks here. We’re spread over three tables, and I’m loving every minute.

Thanksgiving at home is always quiet, just me and my parents. The rest of my relatives live in California, so it’s rare that we all get together. It makes the volume in the Hardy house crazy loud, and honestly, I’ve never felt more at ease.

The whole family is so accepting.

Sammy leans in close, whispering, “You stuffed too?”

My lips twitch. He’s as subtle as a sledgehammer. “I can wait for dessert. It’ll make me appreciate it more,” I answer with an arched brow.

He snorts and stands. “We’re on kitchen duty.”

I join him and start gathering plates as he tells his brothers to get off their asses to help. They do so, grumbling, but we clear everything away as the rest of his family—his cousins excluded, as they help us in the kitchen—move to the sitting room. A moment later, the TV is turned on for the football game.

While his brothers load the dishwasher and his cousins tidy away the leftovers, I wash up the pots that can’t fit into the dishwasher. I pass Sammy a saucepan for him to hand dry.

“What time do you need to call your parents?”

“After football.” Dad will be glued to the TV.

He bobs his head before asking, “Are they still heading over for the game next month after Christmas?”

“Yeah.” I shoot him a smile, one which he mirrors. “It’s the easiest time for them to travel with their work schedules.” I study Sammy when he focuses a little too hard on the tray he’s drying. “What’s up?”

His single-shouldered shrug is not as nonchalant as he’s likely aiming for. He casts a look around the kitchen, and I do the same. Everyone’s getting on with their tasks, so they aren’t paying attention to us.

“Seriously, you okay?” I keep my voice low and just for him.

“Just thinking, is all.” What he doesn’t say with his words, he says with his eyes.

Realization hits me, and I don’t know whether to smile because he’s being adorable even though he doesn’t mean to be or throw him a bone and tell him he’s got nothing to worry about.

While I don’t really know how my folks will react to our news when we finally tell them, I’m confident they’ll support me. Will they be surprised? Not any more than I was when my feelings for Sammy grew in a way I never predicted. But they love me without strings, without barriers or restrictions, of that I am certain.

I’m so lucky. I feel that acutely, especially since learning the truth from Sammy. Hell, even now, my gut aches and my heart legit hurts at all he’s been through. The last thing I want to do is put pressure on him, but we do need to sit down and talk for real.

“You’ve gone quiet on me.”

I startle at his words and quickly reassure him. “Shit, no. Nothing bad. I was just thinking about my folks.” My smile is fast to form. “They’ll always be supportive.” I raise my brows for emphasis, obviously unable to say more.

When he leans in close, I inhale his cologne. There’s a warmth to the scent, reminding me of sun-kissed woods and smoky fires. But it’s more than that. It’s balanced with a touch of freshness, like a cool breeze cutting through the humidity of a forest.

How fucking odd does that sound? But hell if I don’t love how it smells on Sammy.

“You think when we’ve finished up here, we can go to our room and have a talk?”

Surprise has my heart lurching. I search his gaze, his expression, and see nothing that makes me worry. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good, yeah.” He nods and pulls away, out of my space. “Thanks.”

Nerves weave through his voice, and a faint blush sits high on his cheeks.

I have no idea what it is he wants to talk about, but I pick up the pace washing the dishes. While I don’t think it’s anything bad, I don’t think he’s making an excuse to steal me away to get hot and heavy with me.

“Done,” Denzel says with flourish, closing the dishwasher and turning it on.

“Are you going to watch the game?” Sammy peers over at his brother.

“Yeah. Family tradition and all that.” Denzel rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look put out.

The rest of the younger members of his family—Sammy is by far the eldest—take that as their cue to abandon their posts and race to the sitting room. No doubt to claim some floorspace for good viewing.

“Don’t mind us,” Sammy hollers after them. “We’ll finish up.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Never a quiet moment, huh?”

“Or a job that gets finished.” He grins.

“It’s almost done.” The abandoned tasks aren’t too bad. There are some unwrapped leftovers, and the kitchen counters are a mess and need wiping down. The bin’s also overflowing and needs taking out.

After unplugging the sink, I set about cleaning it out and then start wiping down the countertops with some disinfectant spray.

“Thanks for this.” Sammy’s at the trash can across the room from me, pulling out the bag.

“You don’t need to thank me for pulling my weight. You know I enjoy being here.”

His nod is slow, his gaze assessing. He finally settles on “I know you do. Sometimes it’s like wrangling hyenas when the whole family’s here, yet you take it in stride.”

Heat blooms in my chest at the compliment. With no idea what to say, I simply smile and shrug. He bobs his head, then makes quick work of tying a knot in the trash bag before he crams the leftovers into the refrigerator.

“I’m going to head outside to dump this. You good here?”

A low chuckle escapes. “Yeah, I’m good here.”

I don’t know what it is about my answer that warrants his beaming smile, but I’ll take it.

The back door opens, then closes behind him as I rinse the cloth.

“Hey, Bentley.”

I peer over my shoulder at Nova. “Hey. We’re almost done.”

Stepping farther into the quiet kitchen, she smiles and heads my way. “Thanks for tidying up. I saw the kids make a run for it, so I wanted to make sure they hadn’t abandoned you with too much mess.”

“It’s all good. Sammy’s taking the trash out, and I just have this surface to do.”

“I appreciate it.”

I return her smile, feeling fresh heat in my chest, which races up my neck and touches my cheeks. Nova’s awesome, but she’s also my mother-in-law and doesn’t have a clue. Between that and me never really being alone with her before, I feel super awkward and guilty.

“You mind if I talk to you about Sammy?”

My muscles turn rigid at her request, though I nod. It’s hardly like I can say no.

“It’s really about Trevin. Sammy didn’t say much after his last visit.”

Wide-eyed, I stare at her.

Fuck, doesn’t she know that he was successful at getting a parole hearing? Christ knows how that happened, but it’s happening soon.

“I know Trevin’s hearing is coming up,” she’s quick to say, and my breath whooshes out of me. Her chuckle is light. “I figured that’s what the look on your face was. He told me that and let me know Trevin has a date for his hearing.”

“Okay.” Relieved, I nod. “Yeah, that’s good. Well, not good.” My brows shoot high. “You know what I mean.”

The smile she sends me is soft, kind. “I do. And I agree, it’s not good that he’s got a hearing date. I have to be honest, with this being Sammy’s senior year, I’m worried how he’s going to handle everything if Trevin’s successful.”

A lead weight forms in my gut, feeling heavy and uncomfortable. I’m concerned too. Aware Sammy’s been gone a while and not wanting him to walk in with us talking about him—even though I’ll tell him everything about this conversation later—I peer out the window.

It’s still light out. Even though the sky is blue overhead, it looks cold. We’re at the back of the house, so if I can’t see Sammy, then it means he’s still out front.

Turning back to Nova, I promise her, “He’ll be fine, whatever happens. I’ll make sure he is. Sammy’s shaken up about Trevin possibly being released early, but he’s also not exactly eager for it to happen three years from now either. But he’s got me, and I won’t let Trevin hurt Sammy again.”

Panic grips my chest when tears well in Nova’s eyes. Fuck. I’ve made her cry.

“Thank you, Bentley. He was hurt so badly when it happened, and not just physically.” She sniffs, and thank God, a tear hasn’t spilled yet.

“I know.”

She steps closer to me, right into my space, and cups my cheek. “I know you do. I suspect you keep all his secrets.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The panic’s turned into a tsunami of fear as my flight instincts kick in.

“Thank you for being there for him. For loving him.”

Retreat. Retreat.

I’m struck mute, which is probably a good thing. What I can’t do is deny how much I love him. I can’t lie to Sammy’s mom.

“Will you promise to call me if you need anything? If Sammy needs anything?”

My nod is slow, almost wooden. “Yeah,” I croak. After clearing my throat, I try again. “Of course I will.”

A soft smile remains on her face, and while her eyes are watery, she still hasn’t cried. Dropping her hand, she rests it on my forearm and squeezes lightly. “Right.” She steps back. “I best grab the drinks I promised everyone.”

I work hard at controlling the rush of relieved breath. “Let me help.”

She shakes her head. “Why don’t you go see if Sammy needs saving from one of the neighbors? They all watch your games anytime they’re aired. They like to talk about every play. And if it’s Tomas, he’ll keep Sammy talking for hours if he’s not rescued.”

I cling to her offer of escape immediately. Throwing the cloth on the draining board, I get the hell out of there. The cool air is a relief on my heated skin.

Fuck it all to hell.I inhale deeply before exhaling.

What on earth was that?

Does Nova know? Suspect? When she said I love him, did she mean as a friend? Everyone who knows us is aware of how close we are. That’s always been the case.

Have we behaved differently this visit compared to last year?

The questions buzz around my mind as I head down the short path and open the gate that leads me to the front yard. Sammy’s back is to me. He’s just wearing a T-shirt, so he must be cold. Goose bumps broke free on my arms the moment I stepped outside, so given the five or so minutes he’s been out here, I suspect he’s feeling it.

The scrape of my sneakers on a small pebble on the concrete footpath alerts Sammy. He angles my way, his grin quick to form as his eyes drink me in. It’s impossible to not return his smile. The flutter of wings in my stomach, the speed of my pulse—every damn time I lay eyes on the man, my whole body comes alive. So does my soul.

Fucking hell.

My smile slips, as does his when he tracks my expression.

Of course his mom’s figured something out. How could she not when every time I’m with her son, all I see are love hearts and a future that makes me giddy.

“They ready for me?” Sammy asks pointedly.

“Yep, I was sent out to get you.”

He bobs his head and turns back to the old man he’s been talking to. “Good to see you, Tomas. You have a great Thanksgiving, you hear?”

“Will do, Sammy.”

They shake hands before they head their separate ways.

“You good?” Sammy asks as soon as he’s at my side.

“Yeah, but you want to head out back now?” I have to tell him about his mom. There’s a chance I’m reading into the conversation, but he still needs to know.

“Sure. Let’s go through the gate rather than the front door.”

We veer off the footpath and go straight to the converted shed. Once inside, I sigh at the blast of heating.

Rubbing his hands together, Sammy does a whole-body shudder.

“You need help warming up over there?” While I might be freaking out a little about his mom, I’ve had to go all day without touching him. It’s harder than I expected.

“If you’re offering, I won’t say no.” The right side of his lips quirks, and I step into his space, wrapping my arms around him.

At the contact, my shoulders relax as I exhale. His skin is cold, and his hands trigger goose bumps as his palms settle on my back.

“Hmm, you’re warm and toasty.” His hold on me tightens.

“That’s me, a walking, talking heater.”

His chuckle is quiet next to my ear. “Just another reason why I married the right guy.”

My heart flips before pounding heavily. It does every time he mentions our marriage. I angle away, wanting to see his face. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that.”

His smile is soft. “I won’t get tired of saying it either.”

This man, he seriously is the sweetest. I swear no one would believe it. Between his off-topic chats, his loud conversations, and his ridiculous jokes, there’s a whole other version of Sammy that no one gets to witness.

No one but me.

The knowledge is heady, as is his trust in me.

The thought is sobering. His mom’s words are loud in my head.

A small frown appears between his brows. I’ve gone quiet, my own smile slipping, so I understand why.

“Let’s talk on the bed.” Usually, that would not be the safe option. But there’s nowhere else for us to sit together, and standing in the middle of the room while talking this out isn’t ideal.

When he nods, I kick off my shoes, and he does the same. Once we’re on the bed—my back to the headboard and Sammy in front of me—the furrow between his brows has deepened.

“You’re kinda freaking me out.”

“Shit, sorry, I don’t mean to,” I say. “When you were out front, your mom talked to me.”

He tilts his head and studies my face. “Saying what?”

Heat flushes my skin. His eyes dip, following its path before he makes eye contact.

“She’s worried about you. Spoke a little about Trevin.”

Sammy clenches his jaw. Every single time Trevin’s name is mentioned, he always does. I’m not even sure he’s aware of it.

I swallow hard, a little embarrassed by what I’m about to share. “When I told her that I have your back, that I’ll never let Trevin hurt you, she seemed happy, grateful even.” Sammy’s gaze softens, his jaw unclenching. “She then thanked me for being there for you.” Fuck, here it goes. “Thanked me for loving you.”

His eyes go comically wide, and in any other situation, I’d laugh. Silently, he stares at me. Honestly, his eyes glaze over a little, and I’m not convinced he’s really seeing me.

When he asks, “And what did you say?” I almost jump, having lost myself in the silence.

I shrug, the movement awkward and far from nonchalant as I admit, “I, uhm… I didn’t actually say anything. I didn’t want to lie to your mom outright. I just promised to call her if we needed her when she asked me to. Then I came to you.”

Try as I might, I can’t keep the heat out of my cheeks. That and my pulse races through me so fast, it’s likely I’ll pass out if I don’t sort my shit out.

I kind of want to go back in time and kick my fourteen-year-old self. What a fool I’d been, so desperate to grow up and be an adult.

But fuck if loving Sammy isn’t worth all this adulting bullshit.

“Okay.” He nods… and nods some more, repeating “Okay” enough times that I’m starting to get worried.

“Okay?” I don’t hold back my concern or my confusion.

“Tomorrow morning, when everyone’s gone and it’s just my folks, I think we should tell them.”

My body has a mind of its own as it does this jerking thing. From surprise or excitement, perhaps a little “holy shit” anxiety, I struggle to catch my breath.

“Shit, we don’t have to.” Sammy reaches for me. Panic flares in his gaze, his expression filling with concern. “It’s a lot. Fuck, there’s your parents, too, and I don’t even know if you want to tell them about us. And if you do, like….” He trails off and shakes his head, his brows shooting high. “Shit, forget it. It’s too much pressure. I don’t want you to feel like you have to come out. Fuck, this whole time, I’m the one who’s said we have to keep this secret because of…” He hesitates but continues with “Trevin and what happened.”

Even though he winces, he’s on a roll, his words tumbling out as all his thoughts seem to be spilling out in whatever order they wish.

“No, you’re right. We shouldn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking. Nothing’s actually changed. When he’s released, he’ll cause shit if we’re together and out. And if he tries to hurt you—” He blanches, effectively cutting himself off as his expression morphs from fear to anger to whatever other emotion he’s juggling.

I need to speak, need to calm him down, but I have no idea what to say or do. What’s the best thing in this situation? There’s no “right” thing, or at least I don’t think so. So it has to be about us and what we’re happy and comfortable with.

“But I also hate this. We’ve been married for less than forty-eight hours, and I fucking hate not touching you, loving you the way I want to.”

My heart squeezes, and I’m lost in his desperation and confusion. “Which is how?” The question falls out unplanned, but I need to know. Maybe this will be the answer to cut through all the noise. Maybe this will help me decide what I want to do.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching mine for reassurance before he speaks. “I want to hold you until the stars grow jealous of how much brighter you shine in my arms. I want to kiss every inch of your skin until it knows the taste of my love by heart. I want to whisper promises into your soul until it sings with the certainty of our forever. I want to cherish you in a way that makes every moment feel like an eternity, because, Bentley, eternity isn’t long enough to spend with you.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Speechless, I stare at him, taking in this man before me. Sammy, my husband who, sure, talks a good talk, but a poet he’s not.

Until he is. And apparently, it’s this very second that I barely recognize him.

Any moment now, my heart’s going to explode. It’s filling too fast. How much can one heart handle before it expires from loving someone so completely, irrevocably?

“Fuck.” It’s all I can manage and is the only warning I give Sammy before I launch at him. I need his mouth, his heat, his body, his goddamn soul. I need it all more than I need to draw another breath.

Our lips collide in a desperate, hungry kiss, igniting a fire that threatens to consume us. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, trying to merge our bodies into one. He can’t say things like that to me, blow me away with promises and words that addle my brain, and not know how much he rocks my world.

The sighs between us are soft as the kiss slows. A few feet away, there’s a houseful of people. Somehow the knowledge wedges itself into my brain, and with one, two, and a final gentle kiss, I pull away. Our breaths mingle as we peer at each other.

Certainty, warm and reassuring, rolls through me. “I can’t tell my parents about us over the phone.” Technically, I know I can, but I don’t want to. This news is big and life-changing. Not telling them in person doesn’t feel right.

While he nods, his gaze dances over mine. “I get it. We can wait.”

He’s not as good as he thinks he is at keeping his emotions under wraps. My heart squeezes as I think about what else he needs to tell his parents. Since he shared with me—and I’m so grateful that he trusts me so implicitly—I can only imagine how the secret still eats at him.

“Let’s figure this out,” I say. “Together.”

He tilts his head to the right, brow furrowing. “As in?”

I don’t hold back. “If we talk to your parents tomorrow and tell them everything, I’ll want my parents to know ASAP. It doesn’t feel right not sharing this news with them.”

His eyes flare wide, and a small, tentative smile forms. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “We need to think of how to get my folks over without me freaking them out. And we need to decide if they’re the only people we tell.” Nerves flutter in my chest.

We’re really doing this.

My skin heats. How will people react? I shouldn’t care, and in some ways, I don’t. No single reaction from anyone will change how I feel about Sammy, but still, potentially dealing with bullshit on a daily basis is a battle I need to prepare for.

That I know that’s par for the course sucks. That I accept it so easily says so much about my expectations of society in general. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t give me warm fuzzies.

“Are you thinking about our housemates? The team?” he asks.

Honestly, at this point, I have no idea.

Everything has happened at breakneck speed, especially after giving in to the slow buildup of us hooking up while burying our heads in the sand.

I twist my mouth in thought while shrugging. “These are decisions I never in my life thought I’d have to make.”

Worry furrows his brow. “We don’t have to decide anything yet. Tomorrow with my parents doesn’t even have to happen. Hell, I’m freaking the fuck out about Trevin.”

I know it takes a lot for him to admit as much, so I wait patiently for him to finish.

“I just want to know what’s happening with his early parole. He’ll obviously get out at some point, but maybe I’m a fool thinking that three years from now, I won’t give a flying fuck and this… concern I have now won’t even be on my radar.”

My heart hurts for him, and I want to offer him all the reassurance in the world. Is that even the right thing to do? The last thing I want is to discount his fears.

“What?”

“Huh?” My eyebrows shoot high, and I release my top lip, not having realized I’d latched on.

“You want to say something.” He gives me an up-nod. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Words flutter around my mind, and I try to grasp on to the right ones to share. I snatch hold of those I think are the truest. To me, anyway.

“There’s no way I can understand or even relate to your worry, Sammy. What you went through makes me so goddamn mad. If I think too hard, I could lose my shit. Hell, I’m so close to calling Ty and making sure Trevin is on his shit list when he becomes a fed.”

Sammy’s lips twitch, and I relax a little, reaching out and resting my palm on his thigh.

“Honestly, I’ve thought about it and haven’t completely disregarded the idea. It has serious merit.”

God, I love him. Even now, Sammy’s found a reason to smile.

“Well, maybe we should stick a pin in that and circle back to it.” I’m not completely joking.

There’s little doubt in my mind that Tyron will be successful in joining the FBI and will be a kick-ass agent. Once he finds out about Trevin and his history with Sammy, I suspect we won’t even need to ask him to add Trevin’s name to his shit list.

“What I don’t want is for you to stop living and us from having a life together,” I say, barely managing to keep the tremble from my voice.

This here is some serious grown-up, married-couple shit we’re diving into. I am so unprepared for it. Knowing Sammy feels the same way is the only reason I’m not freaking out.

“Fuck, Sammy, I have no idea if I’m gay, or bi, or pan, or another letter of the rainbow. Maybe one day I’ll get my head around it, but at the moment, all I am is your husband.”

His gaze softens. “That’s not all you are,” he corrects immediately. “You’re a kick-ass college basketball player, and a man who’s going to make an incredible landscaper sometime soon.”

My smile is instant, and my heart is full. “Obviously, all that goes without saying.” I release a soft exhale and a snicker. “But do you get what I’m saying? My sexuality status currently sits in the married-to-Sammy-Hardy category, and I’m more than okay with that.”

As I say the words, rightness settles somewhere deep inside me. I really am okay with that. For now, at least.

“I’m ready to tell people whenever you are. If that’s now or in a week, a month, or a year, whenever it is, we’ll make it work.” Even if it’s difficult, we’ll figure it out. “As for Trevin, who knows if he’s going to say or do anything, but at the moment—I hate to say this, Sammy—you’re giving him power that he doesn’t really have, and he certainly doesn’t deserve it.”

It’s minuscule, but I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches.

“Whenever he’s released, we take out a restraining order if we have to. We make sure he doesn’t know where we live, and you don’t see him again.” The latter may be impossible, but at least if Sammy doesn’t visit him again, it’s a start. “Even if we tell our families and our friends, we never have to tell anyone else. Next year, no one’s going to care anyway. It’s not like we’re Kieran with League plans. At the end of college, we’ll just be us. Married and happy. Hopefully not too broke and pissing each other off about whose turn it is to take the trash out.”

A glimmer of emotion crosses his gaze. This time I keep my mouth shut. I’ve spent a long time talking at him. Hell, my voice is a little scratchy, unused to monologuing. I’ve had my chance to share my piece. It’s now up to Sammy to decide how he wants to handle everything.

I’ve already made it clear: I’ll follow his lead.