Page 93 of Allegiant

He doesn’t believe me, but lets me leave the house eventually, driving me to the studio. He watches me the entire time, his arms still folded across his chest, that leather jacket pulled tightly across his shoulders, his brow furrowed in displeasure.

He looks way too hot right now.

Sinful, really.

It’s hell on my concentration. I never thought I’d want someone like this, but damn, I do. Maybe because it’s so different from what I’m used to, from what I’ve come to expect. He keeps me on my toes, keeps me guessing.

I need that. It’s a distraction, yes, but it’s thrilling in ways I’m really starting to enjoy.

Fuck, I think I’ve been enjoying it for far longer than I’m prepared to admit. At a much deeper level, too.

When I finally finish, I’m exhausted and starving, my stomach grumbling loudly.

“You didn’t eat enough today,” Samson says, placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me to the locker room where my stuff is stowed.

“I didn’t feel good this morning, so no, I didn’t. But I’ll make up for it, don’t worry.”

He frowns. “We’re going to get you something good to eat. Now.”

“I need to meet with⁠—”

“It can wait. You’re about to keel over.”

It’s a little bit dramatic, but I do lean into his side as Marcy and Clay come up and ask me out for drinks. My stomach clenches at that, so I decline, turning toward Samson. Marcy catches my gaze and winks at me.

I feel my cheeks heat.

Yeah, I’d rather go home with Samson than out for drinks. Sue me.

I wave them goodbye and let Samson guide me to his car. He opens the door for me, and I slide in.

“Such a gentleman,” I tease.

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

Samson shuts the door, but I see that small smile on his lips as he gets into the driver’s seat. He ignites the engine, a low rumble under my seat, and he pulls out of the parking spot. “How tired are you?”

I shrug. “I’m okay. Just hungry.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“I can just eat at home—” I flush, catching myself. “I mean…your place. I still have two more days.”

Samson smirks. “Yeah, you fucking do. But I’ve got something different in mind for tonight before we go home. All I need from you is what sounds good food-wise.”

I’m intrigued. Just what does Samson have planned for us? “Um…” I tap my finger against my lips and sigh. “Honestly, I’d kill for a salad.”

He side-eyes me. “Fuck a salad.”

“I’d rather not. I’d rather fuck you.”

He shoots me a look so heated that it has my toes curling. I bite back a smile as he takes a corner too fast, the tires squealing. “How about Nature’s Delight? It’s right up here.”

I perk up at the sound of that. “I’ve never heard of it, but it sounds like my kind of food.”

“It’s vegan. It’s new. Has salads.”

The way he’s speaking, like this is offending him, is making something inside of me twirl in delight. “Do you know every place in town?”