My stomach threatened to fill with cement.
But Sam wasn’t an asshole. I knew that for certain. I’d stake my life on it.
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then, finally, he looked back at me. When he did, his eyes were like blue flames. “Ellie. Not a fucking second goes by when Idon’tthink about it.”
Heat rocketed through me. It blurred my senses, burning away any hope at thinking rationally. All I could see was Sam’seyes, searing holes into me, his pupils broadening so wide the blue was only a thin, almost minuscule ring.
“I’m thinking about it right now,” he husked. “I remember—” He swallowed. “I remember how youtaste, Ellie.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t know what to say.
So I didn’t speak. I reached for him, grasping his shirt in my hand, and pulled him toward me.
CHAPTER 23
A Taste
SAM
Icame willingly. Fuck, I practically jumped on her.
But we were in an awkward position, with her against the wall and me leaning forward, my t-shirt bunched in her fist. I still wasn’t clear if she really knew what she was doing. Maybe she was going to shake me and try to throw me onto the ground for telling her the truth. I’d let her. I’d let her stomp all over me.
But I was too far gone to stop this now, not unless she told me to.
Ellie was touching me. I could hardly believe it. I didn’t try to. She was clinging to me. Her breath fanned over my lips in short little bursts. Her chest rose and fell like she was hyperventilating. “Sam.”
I could hear the strain in her voice. The heaviness. I wanted to make this easier for her. I wanted to take the weight off her, like I’d been trying to do with the kids. So I gripped her by the waist, lifting her as I took her place, then pulled her down on my lap, her knees on either side of my legs.
Except, fuck, this felt too good. Ellie straddled me, her thick, luscious thighs hugging mine. That alone had my cocksurging dangerously. I was so hard. Harder still as the seam of her jeans brushed against me.
“I’m going to squish you,” she whispered.
She was still supporting herself with her knee on the mattress, her other leg on the floor.
“You won’t.” I didn’t want her to argue, so I gently pushed her knee out from under her, causing her to land heavily on my lap.
I groaned.
She gasped. “Ididsquish you!”
“That’s not pain, sweetheart.” I clamped my arms on her thighs, pressing her down harder. I let myself rock my hips once, justonce.It was enough to nearly send me over the edge.
I breathed long and slow, trying to calm my body down. “I’m—” I pressed my forehead to her collarbone. I think I was trying to say I’m fine.
But I didn’t say that. I tipped my head up, meeting her eyes, and said, “I’m fucking crazy about you, Ellie. You’re all I think about. You and the boys. But you…” I couldn’t finish. I’d probably scared her enough, and I was scaring myself with the intensity of my feelings and words, now that I’d opened the gate. But crazy didn’t begin to describe it. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was sweet and funny and kind. She loved her boys so fiercely. When she ate something she liked, she closed her eyes and smiled. When she was thinking, she bit her lip. She was brave and strong and had handled my parents with care but understood like I’m not sure anyone else would have how deep they’d cut with their strange versions of love.
As I thought all of this, Ellie’s eyes swam with something that looked almost like anger.
I couldn’t tell her the extent of how I really felt. I knew that. And that fucking hurt.
But with her hand still bunching my t-shirt, she pulled me toward her and crashed her lips into mine.
For a half-second, I was too stunned by the heat rocking through me at her touch. But then it hit me: theelationit was to feel those lips against mine again. It was a fucking revelation.
I recovered in an instant, my left hand reaching up to glide into her hair, grasping it in my fist and tipping her back so she moaned.
“More,” I growled.
