AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Fourteen
Freedom
Night has fallen when I slowly open my eyes and blink. It takes me a few long seconds to get my bearings, but when I do, I relax. I know where I am. The familiar scent of Samuel’s detergent tickles my senses and brings a warm and comforting sensation to my already overly sensitive body.
I realize I’m wrapped around his back, my leg thrown over his and my arm around his chest. His hair—which is still longer than I’ve ever seen it—prickles my nose, but that doesn’t cause me to move. Oh no, I don’t want to move.
Ever.
There’s a soreness between my legs that makes me smile and want to slide against him like a cat in heat. We’re both as naked as the day we were born, and all I can feel is the heat of his skin pressed against mine. It’s tantalizing. Intoxicating. Hormone-inducing. Because all I want to do is hump him.
Again.
And maybe again after that.
My stomach growls, reminding me we didn’t eat dinner before arguing over my use of his living room for massage clients, and I’m regretting that now. Not the sex. Oh, no. Never the sex. I’m regretting not fueling our bodies beforehand for round two.
“Was that your stomach?” he whispers, his voice like whiskey and sex.
“’Fraid so, Sammy. You didn’t feed me before you plundered me with your summer sausage.”
He goes completely rigid in my arms. “Seriously, Freedom?” he asks with a deep exhale, slowly turning in my arms. This time, I let him.
His blue-green eyes are a little hesitant as he faces me, and when they finally do, I see a whole plethora of emotion. Guilt—probably still from his fingermarkings on my hips—desire, and even shyness. That last one’s my favorite.
“I’m starving. What time is it?” I ask through a yawn.
“After eleven,” he replies, stretching his arms and treating me to a delicious view of his chest. The blanket dips down and I spy a peek of something else down below the waist. It’s big and hard and raring to go for that round two I’ve been thinking about. My lady parts start to weep with joy. Samuel notices where my eyes have fallen and slowly puts his arms down, covering up his impressive hard-on. I mean, seriously. Some guys have been just blessed in that department, and Samuel is one of them. How he hasn’t had a line of waiting women a mile long is beyond me.
“I don’t usually eat after seven o’clock. Studies show it increases the risk of heart attack and stroke and keeps your body from winding down,” he states, and the truth smacks me upside the head. Samuel is very black and white. There are rules that must be followed, or it doesn’t add up to him. I’ve known this, pretty much my entire adult life, but seeing it now, in the dark of night and while lying in his bed, is a stark reminder of how very different we really are.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Live a little, Sammy. I’ll make you some eggs.”
His stomach growls like mine, and that’s probably the only reason he relents. “Fine, thank you. I think I’m going to grab a shower,” he says, standing up and trying to hide his erection from me as he practically runs from the room.
A snicker bubbles from my chest as I slip from the bed and look for my clothes. They’re a wadded up mess on the floor, which usually doesn’t bother me in the least, but I opt for another piece of discarded clothing. I slip on his button-down and secure most of the buttons. The shirt is huge, but it smells absolutely delicious, like woodsy cologne and fresh deodorant.
I head to the kitchen and pull out the carton of eggs. The bread is in the pantry and I’m able to find the toaster in one of the cabinets. In the fridge, I spy a small carton of fresh mushrooms and a brick of white cheddar cheese. As the skillet heats up, I pop a few slices of wheat bread into the toaster and slice up the mushrooms.
When the skillet is ready, I scramble half a dozen eggs and add the chopped shrooms, stirring it occasionally to keep the eggs from scorching. When the mixture starts to fluff, I drop the bread and add the cheese and a lid to the skillet, all while humming whatever tune is stuck in my head.
“Something smells amazing,” he says behind me.
Spinning around, I find Samuel standing in the doorway, his shorts hanging low on his hips and a bright white T-shirt molded to his torso. His eyes meet mine, then suddenly drop, right along with his mouth. He slowly takes in my appearance from my bare feet, up my legs, and to the large shirt hanging loosely on my petite frame, the sleeves rolled up a bit, so they don’t hang in the food.
“I hope you don’t mind, I borrowed your shirt,” I tell him, spinning back around as the toast pop up to slather yogurt butter on the top.
“Uhh, no. Not at all,” he answers. I can picture him running a hand through his hair, which makes me smile.
I feel his presence beside me as he grabs a pair of plates for the eggs and takes them to the table. He sets out a fork and napkin for each place setting, making sure they’re properly positioned on the placemat. I join him, flopping the pan down in the center of the table, much to his dismay. Samuel quickly grabs a potholder and places it correctly beneath the pan of eggs.
“Smells delicious,” he says as he takes a seat across from me.
“Right? I’m so hungry I could eat the ass end out of a cow,” I state bluntly, scooping up a forkful of fluffy eggs.
Samuel chokes. I glance across the table and witness him pulling his fork out of his mouth and trying to swallow the food he just inhaled. “Jesus, Freedom.”
“What?” I ask, reaching over and banging on his back a few times.
