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What a liar she'd become. Worst of all, she'd been lying to herself.
All this time, Josie had been pretending to be this brassy, ballsy chick when in reality she'd been hiding in plain sight, becoming just as emotionally closed off and controlling as the man in front of her. If he could break loose a little, so could she.
“Forget it. Just be back here in two hours.” He'd pulled back from her, his flirting demeanor replaced by a tension that stiffened his muscles and put a bit of a snarl to his mouth.
Suddenly jittery, Josie swallowed past her nerves. “If it's okay, I'd like to stay.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sam flipped the switch above the kitchen sink and the small florescent bulb blinked twice and then buzzed to life. Obsessed with her. Whatever possessed him to say that? Intrigued, a bit confused maybe, but he wasn't obsessed. Old man Freud laughed at him from the grave.
“Here, let me get the mugs.” Josie's shoulder brushed his as she opened a cabinet.
Caught off guard by her nearness, he fumbled the bag of coffee. It hit the floor with a thump and dark beans rolled across the beige tiles. They crouched down to grab the beans. Sam's head cracked against Josie's, knocking them both back.
He rubbed his cheekbone, now intimately aware of what he'd be in for if he ever switched places with a gong. Impressive, Layton. Way to wow her with your amazing skills.
“Are you okay?”
She snorted and massaged the top of her head. “I'll live. Man, and I thought I had a hard head.”
“You do.” Sitting back on his heels to put some distance between them, he fought the urge to push her hands aside so he could check her for injury. Oh fuck it. “Here, let me look.”
His fingers slid through her smooth curls. Right away he realized she wasn't hurt, but he kept parting her hair and pretending to examine her head while he inhaled her amber perfume. The woman sent his blood flowing south and turned him into a bumbling idiot without even trying. The smart move would be to stay the hell away from her, but his brain had lost the fight the moment she’d walked into his lecture hall.
“What do you think would have happened if we'd met here in Dry Creek instead of Vegas? If no one had ever found that map?”
Sam's gaze locked on the tile beneath his knees. Bland. Colorless. Beige. That's what his life would be like without Josie. He'd flirted his way out of his comfort zone in Vegas, drawn in at first by her bombshell looks but held tight by the intelligence and courage behind the pretty face. He never would have had the balls to even approach her in Dry Creek.
“I don't know.”
Her gray eyes didn't betray any reaction to his words. “Well, we'll never know anyway. I'll live, so let’s get that coffee made.” She brushed his hand from her head and stood up, cupping a handful of coffee beans in her palm.
“Josie…” Sam rose to his feet, bringing his body in line with hers from toes to lips.
He had so much to say to her, to explain that in Dry Creek he'd been playing the same role for so long it was nearly impossible to change. Meeting her in Vegas had been like getting struck by lightning, a one in a million chance to find a part of himself that he thought had died along with Michael. The part willing to take a risk, that wasn't afraid to stand out in the crowd.
But despite his PhD and Scrabble-worthy vocabulary, his mouth couldn't form the words.
Instead, he lowered his lips to hers, trying to tell her everything he couldn't utter out loud. His hands found her hips and he drew her closer, eliminating any space between them until her T-shirt-covered breasts caressed his bare chest.
The coffee beans spilled from her hand, pinging across the tile floor, and she wound her arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. She moaned against him and Sam took full advantage, slipping his tongue between her lips to curl around hers.
He couldn't feel enough of her, taste enough of her, have enough of her. God, would he ever be able to?
He smoothed his hands down her hips, the denim of her jeans barring him from feeling the soft flesh of her curves. The thick material frustrated him while at the same time the can't-touch-me factor heightened his need. Curling his fingers around her inner thighs, he spread her legs as he lifted her higher until her long limbs wrapped around his waist. Her hot pussy pressed against the hard cock still shrouded by the thin cotton of his pajama bottoms.
Needing to taste more of her, Sam broke the kiss and trailed his lips across her jaw, stopping only once he reached her earlobe, eliciting another moan.
She arched her neck to provide him with better access and undulated against his dick, precum already moistening the tip. The things this woman did to him. Not just with her body, but she seemed to know him almost better than he knew himself. He loved seeing the challenge in her gray eyes whenever she called him on his bullshit. Josie pushed him, made him want to be more, be better.
Her short fingernails scraped against his chest, bringing him back to the matter at hand: showing her what he couldn't put into words. She flicked his flat nipple, circling it with her thumb. Impatience vibrated off her heated skin. Wanting to stoke the flames, he abandoned her earlobe for the creamy flesh of her long neck, nibbling his way down the long column as he lowered her feet back to the ground.
Electricity sparked ac
ross his skin when her pink tongue lapped at his nipple, the normally sedate nub coming to life under her wicked mouth. He grasped the soft material at the bottom of her thin T-shirt, holding on to it as she slithered down to her knees until his hands were left holding an empty black shirt. Her mouth closed over his prick where it tented the material of his pajama pants and the world lost focus. He arched against her even as his brain tried to resist her siren's lure.
It took every last bit of sanity still in his grasp to step back and recall his purpose.
