Page 96 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

TRUMAN

I didn’t stop at that. “Does this mean something to you the way it does to me? Does it… can it mean we’re together?”

It was one of the bravest things I’d ever done, asking Sam to define our relationship.

Sam’s intense gaze, which was often intimidating, was as affectionate and loving as I’ve ever seen it. Granted, I hadn’t known him for very long, but I could tell he cared about me.

And I was having more feelings than I could ever admit, no matter how brave I felt. Sam was the first person who made me feel like… me. He made me feel like I was exactly who I was meant to be and that maybe that person was amazing.

I’d spent plenty of time having sex with myself.

In fact, I loved the freedom to express myself sexually when I knew there was no one around to judge me.

In a way, my solo sex life was like my little secret.

I could be as experimental or edgy as I wanted without having to worry about what anyone else thought.

I’d never expected to be able to share it with anyone. It was another reason I’d resisted getting physical with Barney.

But Sam didn’t make me feel dirty or strange for wanting sex the way I wanted it. And I knew without even asking that he would be up for whatever experimenting I wanted to do with him in the future.

If there was a future. I was terrified of his answer.

“I would love it to mean we’re together, Truman,” Sam said softly.

“I want to tell everyone in town that Truman Sweet is my boyfriend.” He rolled toward me and lay on his side, reaching out and brushing the curls out of my face.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you I’m moving here, to Aster Valley, but I… ”

As his voice trailed off, my stomach began to knot. Did that mean he’d ultimately decided not to? “But you?”

“But I didn’t want to pressure you. We’ve known each other a hot second. I don’t ever want you to feel obligated or pushed. I want whatever you’re willing to give. Nothing more.”

My heart almost shoved its way out of my chest to dance happily on the bed between us and then smack kisses all over Sam’s body.

“I’m willing to give you head,” I said with a straight face, trying so hard not to throw myself bodily at his person and beg for him to glue me there like some kind of strange appendage.

It took him a minute to get that I was joking, and then his reaction was hysterical.

“Did you… did you just make a sex joke?” Sam’s voice almost reached a Trumanesque squeaking pitch.

“Did you just hit puberty?” I teased.

“Oh my god,” he said with a laugh, rolling over to squash me after all. “I can’t believe who’s suddenly mister jokester.”

I was so happy, I felt almost manic.

“Now that I know the key to making Sam Rigby beg, I feel like the king of the world,” I admitted with a smirk.

He reached around to pinch my ass. “Insubordinate punk. I didn’t beg.”

I laughed. “Are you kidding? You had a constant stream of chatter going under your breath. Things about how my body felt, how you were going to have to build a sex dungeon and name it after me, and how you would beg me to get back inside of my body if you had to.”

Sam stared at me in disbelief, but his cheeks turned pink. Clearly part of him believed the truth I spoke. His words had empowered me. They’d made me feel high and free.

It was amazing what having sex with a man who respected and appreciated me felt like.

I was full of mixed emotions. Gratitude for Sam’s patient, steadfast regard.

Resentment at all the years I’d thought I hadn’t deserved someone like him.

Joy at finally learning how it felt to have a man inside me, thrusting into me and shifting around until my body sang in just the right way.

And hope. If Sam Rigby was moving to Aster Valley, my life had the potential to crack wide open like a spring rain cloud succumbing to a burst of summer sun.

“Okay, it’s true,” Sam finally admitted. “All of those things are true. Except the chalet I’m going to move into at the lodge doesn’t have room for a dungeon. So I’ll have to make do with sex handcuffs.”

I nodded agreeably. “You may use mine.”

His eyes bugged out again. This was getting fun.

“I’m joking. I only have solo toys,” I admitted. “But you’re kind of fun to tease. And I’m clearly the much better liar between the two of us.”

“Little Truman Sweet. You have anal sex one time and suddenly you’re a tiger.” Sam looked at me like inspecting a new species. “The Truman Tiger.”

“Rawr,” I deadpanned. “Now hush and let me pretend like I don’t have things dripping from… places.”

He laughed loud and deep before pressing another kiss to my lips and hauling himself up to get a cloth from the bathroom.

I let myself lie there and bask in the role of pampered one even though it darned near killed me.

When he returned from the bathroom, he reached out to wipe me down, murmuring something about being surprised I hadn’t followed him to the bathroom and insisted on cleaning my own self thank you very much.

“I’m trying to keep you guessing,” I said as my face ignited with embarrassment. I’d never had another man wipe me down before, and when the cloth got close to my private parts, I snatched it out of his grip and took over. Apparently, my ability to withstand pampering had hard limits.

Once we were both cleaned up, Sam spooned me under the covers again. “You feeling okay from the sex?” he asked after a few minutes of snuggling.

“I’m feeling boneless and giddy after the sex,” I admitted. “And relaxed enough to doze off.”

“Mm. I thought we came back here because you needed to work. Orders to fill and whatnot? It turns out… you just wanted to seduce me.”

Sam’s voice was deep and languid, the perfect backdrop to the floaty way I was feeling. “You found me out.”

We drifted for a little while, fingertips brushing softly against each other’s skin until my body began to react more strongly and I wanted him again.

I let out a little whimper of need without realizing it.

“You’re killing me,” Sam murmured against my ear. “Please let me have you again. Are you sore? It’s okay. I can do other things.” He proceeded to do lots of other things while my brain scrambled to put thoughts into words.

“Have me again,” I managed. “Please.”

This time it started off slow and breathtakingly sweet.

No frantic rush of desperation like before.

He treated me like I was the most valuable treasure on earth, and I wallowed in it.

No one had ever made me feel so beautiful and sensual.

He ran his hands over my body like he wanted to learn every inch.

His mouth sipped at my skin like he was thirsting for it, and his murmured endearments sent the drunken hummingbirds flapping wildly around my stomach.

As soon as he pressed inside again, this time from behind, I could tell he was holding way back. He was afraid of hurting me.

“Move,” I said. “More.”

“S’okay. Good like this.”

But I wanted it harder, and somehow I found the guts to tell him so. “Harder. Faster. Fuck me.”

My words made him groan, and his body responded immediately. The slap of his hips against my ass was so hot, it made me even harder. Listening to his grunts and feeling his hard body tense and flex behind me made me feel hot and sexy, powerful and masculine. Desired. Appreciated.

I felt like I was flying.

Sam’s hand came down and wrapped around me, stroking in time with his thrusts until I was crying out my release.

Was this really my life?

I collapsed face-first into the mattress and grinned like a loon.

“Get up, lazyass,” Sam murmured as he kissed me awake. “If you’re not going to pack orders, then we’re going for a ride on the motorcycle.”

He was so excited about it, I agreed happily and washed up before getting dressed in clean clothes.

Sam drove us back over to Rockley Lodge and ran inside to grab the extra helmet he had.

When it was finally time to climb onto the bike, I was having second thoughts.

“Maybe it makes more sense for me to—” I began, but Sam cut me off by lifting me up and plonking me on the back of the seat and slipping his leather jacket over my shoulders. I nodded. “Okay. We’re doing this. It’s happening. Yes. I am riding a motorcycle.”

Sam grinned as he leaned in to kiss me on the lips. His movements slowed as his mouth met mine, and he kissed me as if we had all the time in the world and he wanted to savor the very taste of me.

He finally rested his forehead against mine. “I have to tell you I’m having some feelings.”

My heart jumped around like a puppy catching sight of his leash. “What, um, what kind of feelings?”

His normally stoic face turned soft, but his mossy-green eyes were just as intense as they always were when they met mine.

“Positive feelings. About you. Possessive feelings.” His hand moved from my cheek to my hair as he brushed my messy mop out of the way and slid the helmet on my head.

“I don’t want to rush things, Truman. But I really like you, and I hope you’ll give me a chance to spend more time getting to know you.

I’m really happy you asked if we could define what this is between us. I like that. You and me.”

I nodded, noticing my head felt heavier with the helmet on it. “Me too,” I said with as much courage as I could rustle up. “I’m having feelings, too. Strong feelings.”

Sam’s grin was as bright as the midday sun, and it gave me permission to trust his words. He really meant it.

Sam Rigby was having feelings for me. Truman Sweet. The guy who was nothing very special and about as sexy as a toilet brush. What in the world had I done to attract him?

When Sam threw his leg over the bike and knocked back the kickstand, the bike tilted precariously to one side.

I yelped and wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I dared.

The low rumble of his chuckle vibrated against my chest, and I decided I might be okay with risking my life if it meant spending a few minutes plastered to this big warm body.

When he started the engine, it added a completely new rumble, and we set off down the driveway.

I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and focused on breathing.

This was obviously not his usual bike, but he rode it like it was.

His body was loose and easy as he leaned into the turns.

Mine, on the other hand, was a tight ball of strained elastic band on the verge of snapping.

The cold mountain air was mostly buffeted by Sam’s much larger body, and I eventually noticed the warmth of the sun on my back through the thick jacket.

We rode away from the town and up into the mountains, slowly rounding the curves and catching glimpses of the valley far below until finally stopping at an overlook. Sam parked the bike and helped me off.

“This is gorgeous,” I said, referring to the view of Aster Valley below. I could barely make out the meadow behind my property across the valley. It was a tiny bare patch among the trees. I recognized the small white farmhouse and tidy grids of my farm plots.

I squatted down to investigate a patch of small pinky-purple blooms. The air was crisp and clean, and there was a special kind of hush around us, only interrupted by the gentle mountain breeze and faint trickle of snowmelt somewhere.

“ Phlox subulata ,” I murmured. “Did you know the roots of this plant were used to make an eyewash in early native tribes? The Cheyenne also used it to treat body numbness. Like a kind of stimulant. They’d make it into a bodywash.

I actually use Phlox in my eczema mixture.

There’s an edible version of Phlox , but it’s not this.

This is the wild creeping Phlox subulata . Definitely not edible.”

I stood back up and glanced over at Sam, wondering if my sudden burst of plant knowledge had turned him off. He stood right next to me, pointing his phone at the small flowers and taking a picture. Then he pointed it at me and took another one.

I blinked in surprise, moving a hand up to uncrush my overgrown hair. “I must look awful. Helmet hair and whatnot.”

Sam’s fingers took over and brushed through my curls. “Love your hair. And you never look awful.”

“You’re one to talk,” I muttered, trying not to preen under his attention.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually taken a selfie, but can we take a picture together? Maybe commemorate our first ride together?”

Sam looked adorably unsure of himself, a state he was probably completely unfamiliar with.

“Only if you can make my hair look decent,” I said, knowing it was impossible.

He got a devious look on his face. “What if I can make it so you don’t care what your hair looks like?”

Within seconds, he was kissing me with full tongue and sneaky hands.

Somehow he had octopus hands because he managed to get his phone out at the same time and snap a picture the minute he stopped kissing me.

I sputtered and flapped my hands, demanding to see the photo so I could delete it into oblivion.

But it was amazing. One of those magical shots no one could ever capture on purpose.

My eyes were closed as if I was savoring the moment, and Sam’s gaze was riveted on me with a combination of affection and self-conscious awareness. As if he cared about whether or not I was okay with what he’d done.

The entire valley was laid out behind us in a swath of golden sun.

I clutched his phone to my chest and looked at him. “Cripes,” I breathed.

“Is it good? Let me see.”

First, I texted it to myself in case I accidentally deleted it somehow. The day Sam Rigby changed my life . Then I showed it to him and watched the smile take over his face. “I’ve never seen myself look that way before,” Sam said.

“Like what?” Did I even want to know?

“Like I had everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of me.”

I sucked in a breath and met his eyes again.

And that’s when I heard the squealing of tires as a familiar vehicle came barreling toward us.