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“Nope.”
That was my chance. I’d been waiting to talk with her alone for damn near three fucking weeks. Levi—shockingly enough—had this time with her. I knew Luke had talked with her for a while in that damn hallway. I wanted some time with Sam now.
“Could I come in and talk with you if your parents aren’t here?” I asked.
“Are you going to try and convince me to come home?” Sam asked.
“On my life, I won’t. But I do want to talk to you.”
“Fine,” she said with a grunt as she opened the car door. “Come on in.”
She looked back at me as she opened the door, like she was hesitant to let me come in after all. I jammed my hands into my jeans, trying to keep control of my raging emotions. I wanted to shove her into the house and crash my lips against hers. Take her upstairs and remind her of the beauty we’d experienced together in Vegas. Some
thing that felt that good and that right couldn’t possibly be as wrong as she thought it was.
Maybe she needed a reminder.
She stepped into the house, and I really thought she was going to close the damn door in my face. But instead, she nodded for me to come inside. I stepped in, and she locked the door behind me.
“So if you’re not going to ask me how I’m doing, and if you’re not going to try and convince me to go back to Bakersfield with you then what is it that you want to talk about Logan?” she asked, cocking her hip against the doorframe to the spacious kitchen. “We’re worried about you, and I’ve seen you stressed. This isn’t stress. It’s something else.”
“Logan, please. Don’t do this to me tonight.”
“Come on Sam, I’m only trying to help.”
“Stop it.”
“Sam, talk to me. I’m worried as hell over you.”
“It’s not your job to worry about me,” she said.
“But it is my job Sam, because I care about you. A lot.”
Her eyes whipped up to mine, and my stomach clenched. Those dazzling blue eyes. That long blonde hair piled in a bun on her head. The perfect size for my palm. The silence hung heavily between us, and I watched her eyes fall to my lips. Watching as my teeth raked over my bottom lip. Fuck me. That night in Vegas shot through my mind. Her lips around my cock. How she moaned and tightened that sweet little pussy around me.
I wanted her.
Bad.
“Logan?”
Sam’s voice stopped my mind in its track.
“Yes?” I asked.
“I’m afraid,” she said.
“Of what sweetheart?”
“Of how I feel. Of what it means. I’m afraid of – of,” she trailed off
She took a step toward me and placed her hand on my chest. Right above my heart, and it slammed against her palm, threatening to crack my sternum and fall out onto the floor. Her eyes panned back up to mine, and I crooked my fingers underneath her chin and slid my thumb along her lower lip.
I watched her tongue dart out to catch it.
I leaned in to kiss her, and she fell into my body, collapsed against me as her lips parted for my tongue. I pulled her against me and felt her mold automatically to my body. Our tongues collided as fire shot down to my toes, and I picked her up effortlessly in my arms.
I carried her up the stairs and walked her into her bedroom. I put her down on her feet and released her hair from the bun. I watched it cascade down over her shoulders and slid my fingers through the silky strands. She stood up on her tiptoes and I kissed her forehead before she turned her eyes up to mine and I was completely done for.
