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As much as I felt like this had been a mistake, I also didn’t want him to “get going.” I felt as if the evening were just starting. Like we were poised with our fingers on the floor at the starting line, just waiting for the blare of the horn to go off. I had to make a choice. Did I push and see where this night would take us, or did I let him walk away?
“If you want to go somewhere quieter,” I said as we stood from our chairs, “my place isn’t too far from here.”
Why did I want him to say yes so bad? My phone had already buzzed with a message from a hookup that wanted to meet later. I could have let Sam go; I could have gone on with the rest of my night just fine without him.
So why was I dreading the next words that came out of his mouth?
“Sorry, Rocky, I can’t.”
I couldn’t stop my eyebrows from jolting up halfway across my forehead.
“Right, well.” That was new. Not many people declined an invite over, not that I liked gloating about shit like that. But still, for some stupid fucking reason, I expected Sam to say yes. As if he hadn’t just had a huge public brawl only hours before. All he probably wanted to do was get into his bed and go to sleep, even though all I wanted to do was get him in my bed and forget all about sleep.
Outside, we awkwardly stood underneath a streetlamp. It felt like neither of us were sure on how to end the night. Instinct made me reach out for his hand. I wasn’t exactly sure where that instinct had even come from, but it was loud and powerful. I reached out.
Sam pulled his hand back, slipping them into the pockets of his pants.
“Thanks again for tonight, and for earlier. For saving my life, basically.” Sam looked up at me, his gray-blue eyes glittering like diamonds underneath the yellow streetlamp. The smile on his face softened the hurt from the rejection I’d just felt.
“Let’s do it again. Not the almost-getting-beaten-to-a-bloody-pulp part, though.”
I nodded, finding myself smiling even though I was internally berating myself for reaching for Sam’s hand.
“Sounds good to me.”
“Good.”
Fuck. I wanted to kiss him so bad. I wanted to pick him up, carry him to my car, and take him right there in my back seat until we could write an entire goddamn essay on the fogged-up windows. I wanted Sam Clark, and I wanted him in a way that surprised me.
“Well… have a good night.” Sam offered a weak wave. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was.
We said our goodbyes and started walking in separate directions, my mind whirling in a thousand different directions but always managing to land on one particular subject:
Sam.
I wondered when the next time I’d see him would be. I had no idea it would be so soon, and under even worse circumstances than how I’d found him today.
9
Sam Clark
Walking away from Rocky Hudson was one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life. Not only because his stare, his lips, his arms, his face, his entire gah damn body, was enough to make me want to drop everything and join the church of Rocky, but also because I reaaaally didn’t want to go back to my place. I had a feeling Jesse was home, and I wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react to me walking in after the day we’d just had. The last thing I wanted was more confrontation, but then again, I couldn’t stay away from my apartment forever. I’d have to go back at some point. I definitely wasn’t sleeping tonight, but maybe I could at least blow some steam by getting lost in a game.
Damn it.
Spending the night with Rocky sounded like something out of my wildest fantasies. I could tell, just from his gaze, that the man could turn me inside out with his tongue alone, forget about whatever he was packing down between those sexy legs of his, the muscular thighs filling out the dark jeans he was wearing.
And then he’d touched me. He reached out for my hand and I freaked. I snatched my hand back like I had touched a hot stove.
Why even bother with fantasies? That’s all they’ll ever be.
I freaked the hell out, and I bolted down the street. As badly as my body wanted Rocky’s, my mind threw up a miles-long spike trap, one I couldn’t get over.
I had baggage, and I wasn’t about to unload it all on the detective. So, instead of taking my virgin ass straight to Rocky’s bedroom, I walked it toward mine, every step filled with more what-ifs, as though they were multiplying like rabbits inside my head.
