Samson

by Marie James

“Thank you,” she whispers before once again tilting the beer up and swallowing almost half of it in one go.

  Surprise must register on my face, because she chuckles at me.

  “Did I really call you mommy?”

  She nods. “Several times, but usually only when you had bad nightmares.”

  I fight the feelings of shame that urge me to shut down this conversation, but the memories of her being there for me countless times when I woke up from bad dreams are stronger than the embarrassment of hitting on a woman I saw in such a parental role when I was a young kid.

  “Samson?”

  “Huh?” I look down to see her hand on my arm.

  “I asked if you still have bad nightmares?”

  I open my mouth to confess that the worst nightmare I had in the last six months was when I was so drunk, I didn’t know my own name. I don’t think she’d be very impressed to know it was torture in my dream where I had to pee so bad, I ran around looking for a bathroom, only to find one in my dream and piss on myself in real life.

  “Not really. I had one about getting my degree and then being unable to find work,” I confess. That dream rocked me to my core more than I’d like to admit. “I ended up driving a trash truck.”

  She smiles, and it’s softer now. “Driving a trash truck is honest work.”

  “It is,” I agree. “But a hard pill to swallow after how much my parents have paid for college.”

  “You’re afraid to disappoint them.”

  “What?” Her response confuses me.

  “That dream tells me you’re afraid to disappoint them.”

  I nod in agreement. If they knew the things I did in Denver rather than going to class, my dads would stomp a hole in my ass.

  “I used to dream that I showed up for the biggest surgery of the year completely naked,” she shares.

  “If you want me to act like a gentleman, you’re going to have to keep thoughts of you naked out of my head,” I warn.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  She lifts her beer to her mouth once again.

  Is she flirting with me?

  Chapter 10

  Camryn

  “Sounds like you had an amazing time.”

  Samson shrugs as if having an internship with the richest man in Denver isn’t a big deal at all.

  “I learned so much.”

  His admission hits me right in the gut, mainly because education is so important to me. I’m always striving to learn new things, and it seems he’s the same way.

  “Will you keep working for him when you go back in the fall?”

  He’s been boisterous this evening, growing more tolerable with each beer I drink, but my question causes his face to drop for the first time since he approached me earlier.

  “I’m not going back in the fall.”

  I cut my eyes away from him, giving him a minute to get his thoughts together. He doesn’t seem happy about this fact, and since I personally hate it when people stare at me and begin to ask a million questions about something that’s ultimately none of their business, I give him the respect he deserves.

  “Doing online classes to wrap up my final year is best for me.”

  “I hope you’re better than me,” I tell him with as much humor as I can manage. It doesn’t match the sudden coldness in the conversation, so I’m trying to move on to a different subject. “I failed the one online class I took. I’m not cut out for getting work done in a class I don’t have to show up for regularly.”

  “You’re lying. Dr. Camryn Nicole Davison did not fail a class.”

  He looks down at me, and the tilt of my head is telling of just how close we’re standing to each other. Over the last hour or so, we’ve gotten closer and closer. I blame the energy of the groups around us and not being able to hear well for the first few steps, but I have no excuse for why we’re standing this close, or why he has his hand on my hip. More importantly, I haven’t had the urge to step away or remove his touch.

  “I did,” I confirm.

  The nod I add with my confession makes my head swim, and I become well aware of just how tipsy I am. Actually, I’ve crossed over from tipsy to just this side of drunk, and immediately I decide I’ve had my last beer, all the while praying Charli has stayed sober so she can drive us home.

  “What did your dad say about it?” His grin is wide, and I feel my lips do the same.

  “He didn’t know about it. It was a class I took during the summer. I was able to add it to my schedule the next semester, and I took it in an actual classroom. I made an A the second time around.”

  “How are your parents?”

  My head swims with the abrupt change in subject, so it takes me a minute to refocus. “They’re good. Dad has been tossing around the word retirement, but Mom says it’ll never happen.”

  “Let’s go,” Samson says, grabbing my hand.

  “Wh-where are we going?” Even though I don’t have a clue what’s about to happen, my feet move to follow him.

  “The fireworks are about to start. I know the best place to watch them.”

  “Fireworks?” It isn’t until I’m not making eye contact with Samson that I realize just how much time has passed. The sky has turned from bright to dark. I missed the entire span of time where the colors of the rainbow blend together for dusk.

  There must’ve been some form of announcement because everyone is moving away from the lights of the patio further into the fields behind the half-dozen or so houses. The air is charged with excitement as families and other townsfolk make their way down a small slope.

  “This is beautiful,” I whisper, taking in the darkness. “Is it always so peaceful out here?”

  “Peaceful?” Samson says with a grunt as he lifts his arm to keep someone from running us over. “Tonight is thinly controlled chaos. You should come over when there isn’t anyone else around. Then it’s peaceful.”

  Something clicks in my brain before I open my mouth to tell him I think that’s a great idea. I once again blame the beer and pull my eyes from his handsome face toward the same direction everyone else is looking.

  He’s beside me, and when the first blast lights up the sky, I feel him grip my hand even tighter. It startles me because I didn’t realize he was still holding my hand.

  A blanket of oohs and aahs filter through the crowd as their excitement grows. I’m jostled by another couple when they push past us to get closer as if they can’t see from two feet further back. I want to snap at them for being rude because honestly, the activity is in the sky not on the ground.

  Without missing a beat, Samson stands at my back. At first, I can tell he’s several inches behind me like he’s trying to form some type of barrier between the excited crowd and me, but the longer I look up, the more unsteady my feet are. Eventually, I’m leaning against the front of his body, feeling protected since my tilted head only reaches to the center of his chest. When an overeager teen hits his back, he wraps an arm around me, and the bolt of electricity when his huge hand settles on my stomach nearly makes me moan.

  Bright greens and blues and reds light up the land as the noise of the firework explosions melt into the air.

  I’m flushed and confused but at the same time somehow content when Samson leans a little closer and rests his chin on the top of my head.

  “Could a kid do this?” he asks, and I don’t have to see his face to hear the smile in his voice.

  Ignoring his question, I smile wider. “This is amazing. I haven’t been in years. I’d forgotten just how much effort the club puts into this holiday.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” His chin is no longer resting on my head, and I feel the warmth of his breath on my shoulder.

  His fingers dig into my belly. It’s just a slight flex of his fingers, but the sensations it causes to roll over my body aren’t ignorable. As if answering an unspoken demand, I turn in his arms. He’s looking down at me, but rather than the cocky smirk he usually has, his lips are parted, and his
breaths are coming out uneven.

  Swallowing thickly when I realize I’m doing exactly the same thing, I almost lose my mind when his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip. I feel a groan rumble through his chest at my attention on his mouth, and I want to laugh because my reaction is nearly the same.

  I don’t laugh, though. I do what I told myself I’d never do. I lift up on my toes and inch my mouth closer to his.

  “Cam,” he pants a half of a second before our lips meet.

  He wastes no time running his tongue over mine, as both of his arms cage around me and drags me as close as possible without being connected to him.

  A shameful whimper rumbles in my own throat when he angles his head to lick into me deeper. I must be dreaming because even with my eyes closed, I see the explosions and feel the electricity we’re exchanging. It nearly sets my body on fire. Samson is having much the same reaction if I go by what’s hitting me in the belly.

  I’m mere moments away from jumping up and wrapping my legs around his waist when a loud roar pulls us apart. I suddenly realize where I am. We’re not alone, or in a position to take this any further like I’d let myself fantasize. I’m half-drunk standing in a damn field surrounded by a hundred people. The light that drifted through my eyelids while his mouth was on mine wasn’t some form of otherworld connection. It was the damn fireworks that no doubt lit up the entire sky enough so all the people of the community could see me sucking face with Samson Donovan.

  “Damn, baby.” Samson’s hand reaches up to cup my jaw just as his lips lower to mine again.

  “Don’t,” I hiss, aware that the people surrounding us are having to split like the Red Sea to get around us because they’re heading back to their vehicles to leave and we’re just standing here like teenagers who can’t control themselves in public.

  “Cam?” The nickname, just like the baby he uses, is like ice water tossed on me.

  What am I doing? This isn’t how a grown woman acts.

  “Cam, don’t. Get out of your head.” There it is again.

  “It’s Dr. Davison.”

  His face falls the second the words are out of my mouth, and all the imagined magic disappears in a blink. Thankfully, he doesn’t follow me when I shove away and step around him.

  The ten minutes it takes to find Charli are the longest in my life, but I eventually spot her sitting on the lap of one of the Cerberus guys by the pool.

  “We need to go,” I urge her with my hand out for her to take. “Like now.”

  “Later, doll,” the guy says when she climbs off his lap.

  Charli chuckles before turning back to the man, brushing a kiss on his cheek, and whispering something in his ear. She giggles like a sex-crazed schoolgirl when he says something back.

  “Are you drunk?” I ask as we walk away, confused by her reaction to that man.

  “Nope. Didn’t drink a drop,” she answers. “Are you going to tell me why we’re hauling ass out of here?”

  “Not on your life,” I mutter as we round the side of the clubhouse and walk toward her car.

  Chapter 11

  Samson

  “Ouch.”

  I nearly knock Cannon’s head off when he walks up and places his arm around my shoulders.

  “That had to have hurt.”

  Pissed as I watch Camryn find her friend, I shake him off me. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I watched you two instead of the fireworks. She was into you.” He chuckles. “Until she wasn’t. Did you eat onions for dinner or something?”

  “Fuck off,” I grumble, but raise my hand to my mouth and blow just in case.

  Cannon follows me toward the pool, laughing the entire time and ribbing me about finally kissing the girl only to be rejected again. I keep my eyes on Camryn’s back until they disappear around the corner of the clubhouse. I should be chasing after her, insisting that she give me some sort of explanation for bolting, but another blow to my ego tonight would be unbearable.

  Plus, at least I have the memory of that kiss. Closing my eyes as I settle into one of the loungers by the pool, I relive that very moment, and cold chills rush over my arms when I get to the part where she whimpers and tugs on my shirt.

  “What are you dreaming about?” My eyes snap open when someone kicks my shoe, finding Griffin smiling down at me.

  “Did you miss the kiss between him and Camryn Davison?” Cannon asks.

  “You didn’t,” Ivy gasps.

  A wide smile tugs at both corners of my mouth, but I don’t open it to brag. I’ve spent the last three years bragging to my frat brothers about how far I’ve gotten with a girl, seldom ever having to enhance the story with lies. I won’t do that to Cam. She’s different from any other chick I’ve had my lips on.

  “He sure did. Then she pushed him away and stormed out of here. I imagine it’s his nasty-ass breath.” Cannon laughs like he’s just told the funniest joke in the world.

  One look at the anger building in my eyes, Griffin addresses his brother. “Didn’t I see the girl of your dreams sitting on Scooter’s lap earlier?”

  Cannon snaps his jaw shut, which draws a chuckle from the ever-growing crowd.

  “That redhead is the doctor he hasn’t shut up about for weeks?” Gigi asks as Hound sits down and draws her onto his lap.

  “The very same,” Griffin answers.

  “She’s pretty,” Ivy adds.

  “You think everyone is pretty,” Gigi chides, but there’s a smile on her lips. Gigi has always been a wild card, but she usually draws the line at being intentionally mean. Her history is painted more with selfishness and a touch of narcissism.

  “There’s something pretty about everyone,” Ivy throws back at her.

  “I think you’re pretty,” Griffin mumbles against his girl’s neck.

  “And your ass is going to be red and pretty if you don’t stop giving everyone a hard time,” Hound warns Gigi, who just giggles at the prospect.

  “So that makes the third time she’s shot you down?” Cannon asks, not one to give up on anything easily.

  I snap my head in Griffin’s direction. “You told him?”

  Griffin frowns at his brother before addressing me. “I didn’t tell him shit. He overheard a conversation I was having with Ivy.”

  “You were gossiping about me to your girlfriend?” I hiss back at him. Somehow that seems even worse.

  Ivy has the courtesy to at least look a little ashamed if I go by the pink tinting her cheeks.

  “We don’t have secrets,” Griffin continues. “I can’t help that he always has his ear to my bedroom wall.”

  “That’s because you guys are fuc—”

  “I will snap your neck,” Griffin growls.

  Realizing he’s taken things a little too far, Cannon holds his hands up and apologizes to Ivy. She’s too busy burying her head in Griffin’s chest to acknowledge him though.

  “I’m going to the bar,” I tell them as I stand from the lounger.

  “Drinking your anger away is a bad idea,” Hound says before I can get two feet away.

  “I have to agree,” Griffin adds.

  I’m seconds away from telling them to fuck off and mind their own business, but something in the back of my brain reminds me of the hell both of these men have been through, so I sit right back down.

  “Plus,” Gigi pipes up, “you’ve already been drinking tonight.”

  I nod in agreement and stay in my chair.

  “That was wild,” Tug says as he sits down on the other side of Hound. “Is it always like this on the Fourth?”

  “There’s usually more,” Cannon says.

  “Really?” Scooter asks as he pulls a chair up. Rocker does the same and completes the circle we’ve been forming on the patio.

  “Yeah,” Rocker adds. “Don’t you remember last year? We were out of town, but Kincaid said there were over three hundred people here.”

  “Last year was a blast.”

  “You almost got y
our butt kicked,” Ivy reminds Cannon. “Dad had to intervene before Mr. Long killed you.”

  “I missed that.” Gigi leans closer to her sister. “What happened?”

  “This idiot,” Ivy points at Cannon, “was hitting on Shirley after sneaking a case of beer and drinking it in the garage. When Mr. Long politely tried to remind him that she was a happily married woman, and he needed to find someone his own age, Cannon told the man that he heard he wasn’t that long after all, and his wife wouldn’t be happy until she got a good… you know…”

  “A good what?” Gigi asks with confusion, but I can tell from the sparkle in her eyes that she knows exactly what Ivy is insinuating.

  “Dicking is the word I think I used,” Cannon cuts it when Ivy begins to turn as red as a tomato.

  Her innocence must drive Griffin up the wall. I see her as mostly a sister, and I can’t even begin to describe how freaking cute she is right now. Twenty-one and that innocent? It has to be something.

  “That!” Ivy says, pointing at Cannon with relief that she doesn’t have to say it out loud herself. “Well, Dad grabbed Mr. Long’s arm before his fist hit Cannon in the nose. They didn’t come back this year.”

  A round of laughs echo out from the Cerberus guys, but Griffin glares at his brother. Hound doesn’t seem so happy about it either.

  “You shouldn’t talk to women that way,” Gigi’s man warns.

  “Are you kidding me?” Gigi spins around on his lap to stare at him. “The first time we met—”

  He smothers her mouth with a hard kiss to shut her up, and that gains another round of laughs.

  “So, I guess your charms always fail, huh?” I ask Cannon.

  He’s grinning like a fool when he looks over at me.

  “What do you mean? I pull tons of women.”

  “You pull easy women,” I argue.

  “Hey,” Ivy hisses. “We don’t slut-shame.”

  I feel like shit because until she spoke up, I’d forgotten that her friend Melissa jumped on Cannon’s cock within 36 hours of arriving on the property. My statement was also shitty because I, too, have spent my fair share of time with women who didn’t have a problem putting out on the first date. I was all for it then, and I really don’t have an opinion about it now. I just have a deep urge to knock Cannon down a peg or two because of the way he taunted me after Camryn kissed me then ran away.