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“They might actually like that. Remember how they would stuff them inside their shirts and play?”
“Probably because they wanted to keep this close to their heart.” Sam holds up two pictures I hadn’t seen in over a decade. They’re protected between two panes of glass with a chain hooked on top, turning them into handmade open lockets.
Holding them in my hands, I look at one photo of me and another of my sister. We’re soaking wet, my hair a mess on the side of my head, and hers slicked back from her face. We’re so young, standing next to the lake we would race through on our property.
I can’t find my words. A lump of emotion lodged in my throat. “Where did you?” A tear falls and Sam wipes it away, settling next to me and kissing my cheek.
“It was one picture,” he explains, taking the pieces and putting them next to each other. The edges of the glass click into place, perfectly carved to be two halves of one whole. “I made the choice to separate them, and the boys can swap them out if they want to wear them. They’re waterproofed, but I wouldn’t test it.”
“I gave them this before we even left our house. After the third storm,” I say. We look so young — so happy. “I miss her so much.”
Sam pulls me closer. “I really wish I could have met her.”
“Where did you find this, you said?” I ask.
Sam laughs, his chest rumbling against my side. “Inside the ducks.”
I tilt my head and close my fists over the photos, holding them against my chest. “What?”
“Yeah,” he says. “They had put it in a baseball card sleeve. I only saw it because it was coming apart, stuffing falling everywhere, and I saw something didn’t look right.”
“It’s such a sweet gift. They’ll love it.” I kiss him, sinking into his embrace.
Sam takes the pictures from me and sets them on the table. “They deserve the world, but some nice memories will do.”
I tilt his chin down to look at me. “You gave them the world. Look around.”
When I meet Sam’s gaze, he isn’t looking anywhere but at me. His eyes give the stare I’m all too familiar with, the one that tells me I’m seconds away from being taken.
“Are you happy?” he asks.
“You know I am,” I answer.
His lips meet mine, soft at first and then harder, begging me to open. I do like always, because when Sam caresses my tongue with his, the perfect butterflies form in my stomach. We never tire of each other, even after all these years. He still makes me blush and giggle. He’s insatiable, pushing me past my limits and making me feel things I never thought possible.
My feet lift from the ground, and he breaks the kiss, walking us to our room. Our front door opens with Luke about to bust in, but Sam gives him one look. He’s slamming the door right back, offering a, “Sorry!” as his footsteps run away.
I’m laughing when Sam throws me onto the bed, kicking the door shut behind him. “Are we that obvious?” I ask.
“I’m so hard, I’m sure he saw the tent in my pants. Take off your clothes.”
I’m already shuffling out of my clothing and taking my hair down to feel more… I don’t know. I want to be beautiful for Sam every day, even though he makes love to me after I’ve been cleaning fish or tending to the animals. Sometimes he can’t wait, jumping in the bathtub with me while I try to wash, and I give in.
Every time I let Sam take me because every time it makes me feel good and special.
He would understand if I said no, but I can never make the words come out. Every part of my being craves Sam Lawson and has since the first time we were together.
“You still have too many clothes on,” Sam smirks. He’s standing naked at the edge of the bed, his hand stroking his cock that drips from the tip.
I get my pants off of my ankles and he hits his knees, wrapping his arms around my thighs and yanking me to the edge of the bed. His tongue finds my center before I’m able to gasp, and I moan instead, arching my back from the feel of his mouth.
The man drinks me up in the way he’s done so many times before, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure to make my nipples harden and my legs shake.
“Yes, Sam. Fuck!” I’m controlling my volume, unsure when another visitor might barge inside. Everyone knows better than to enter our room, but this house isn’t soundproof.
“Don’t stop,” I beg. “Don’t stop.”
He pulls away with a grin.
