AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I glance her way, nodding. “Disgusting,” I say, sticking my tongue out.
But I’d eat it. For her.
Samira follows Saoirse into the room, and I can’t help the way my gaze instantly falls to her, trailing until she reaches the couch opposite me. My sister sits, but she doesn’t. Instead, she glances toward me, then back to Saoirse.
“I’m going to head out. I’ve got dinner plans.”
Heat prickles at the base of my neck at the thought of her out to eat with another man, but I force away any potential feelings of jealousy. There’s no room for love or anything else remotely puke worthy. Attraction only blurs anything I want from the mysterious woman standing before me. Lust does not equal love. I wipe my hands against my pants, then stand.
“I should get going, too.” I head for Saoirse to give her a hug.
“You just got here, Dec. Stay a bit,” Saoirse says, standing to embrace me. She squeezes my neck. “You’ve been drinking,” she whispers low enough that only I can hear. “Please let Scotty take you home.”
“I’ll be fine,” I lie and press a kiss to her cheek. Pulling away, I then make eye contact with Samira. “I can walk you out,” I say.
She narrows her gaze at me. “I’m just in the driveway,” she says. “Not a far walk.”
“Still.” I shrug, placing my hand at the small of her back. “Can never be too safe around here.”
She snorts. “In Back Bay? This is the safest area in Boston.”
“Riddled with Irish cronies.”
Sammy’s laughter grows as we leave Saoirse’s townhome. Her car is parked in front of mine in the double wide driveway that can easily fit eight cars. We walk in silence now, my hand never leaving her back.
“You didn’t bring my purse,” she says when we get to the driver’s side door.
She’s so close, her scent coursing through my veins, her heat burning my palm at her back. I rest my hand on the door and when she finally unlocks it, I tug it open for her.
“It’s at the hotel. In the penthouse. You can follow me there,” I say.
Her eyes roll in annoyance, yet there’s a twinkle of amusement. “Hard pass.”
“Why?” I ask, allowing my gaze to roam her body. She’s curvy in all the perfect places—a handful of ass for me to squeeze while she rides me until we’re both delirious with pleasure, and in dire need of rehydration. “You were so into me the other night.” I lick my bottom lip. “Now you can’t be bothered?”
She shakes her head as she climbs into her vehicle. Long legs poke out while she sets her purse on the passenger seat, and then a flash of a red bottom heel when she climbs all the way in before pressing the push button to start the engine. I duck my head into the car and tug at her seatbelt.
“What are you doing?” she asks when I lean across her to fasten the seatbelt.
I smooth the restraint, my hand gliding down her chest. “Making sure you’re secure,” I tell her. I don’t miss the sharp intake of breath, the way her cleavage poking from the satin button shirt she’s in brightens with a red hue. “Safety first. Always.”
“Declan.” She sighs, eyes squeezed tight. “You have to stop. This is inappropriate.”
I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “Why… is it, Samira? Because you say so?”
Her eyes snap open, fight flashing in them. “Because, Declan. Saoirse is a client. And this will inevitably end.” She waves a hand between us. “You’ll grow attached, want more than I can give you, and when it ends, I’ll be out a verysecure,high-paying job, out of my friendship with your sister, and my reputation as an event planner will be overshadowed by my inability to keep business and pleasure separate.”
She spoke so fast; I don’t have time to even wonder if she’s able to breathe before she inhales sharply.
“Cute,” I say when she slams the door. I raise my voice so she can hear me through the glass. “That you think you’re the one who will break my heart.”
She lets out a laugh. I wait patiently, one hand on the roof of the car until she rolls down the window. “My heart is un-fucking-breakable,” she declares, a hand on her chest.
When Sammy peers up at me again, there’s ice where the warmth had been, and I shiver at the thought of her being cruel and manipulative; the way she’s coming off now. I’m the one who is supposed to tear her apart, not the other way around.
She rolls the window back up, never glancing back at me when she starts up the car.
“Third time is fate, Samira,” I call over the roar of the engine coming to life.
