But there’s a little bit of dread mixed in there too.
I haven’t spoken to Stacey since she dropped the bomb on me, and part of me wants to ignore it and pretend it never happened. I’m a logical person, though, and it’s not like me at all to hope getting something out of sight will also get it out of mind. I have to tell Chloe and hope it’s not a dealbreaker for her.
I remind myself what Archer and I discussed: I didn’t do anything wrong, not really. Stacey and I hooked up way before I even saw Chloe again. Our relationship was clear cut the whole time, and we both slept together knowing it was nothing more than a hookup. Plus, Stacey and I talked the next morning and mutually agreed we’re not fit for long-term dating, and I’m still not convinced Stacey wasn’t sleeping with anyone else at the time.
The biggest reason I couldn’t commit to any more before was because I was still in love with Chloe, even when I didn’t want to admit it to myself. Dating Stacey more than once was the closest I got to a real relationship, and the one time I decided to try and give it a real go, she cheated on me, claiming our previous open relationship confused her after a night of drinking.
It’s my fault for calling her that night. If I could go back and undo it all, I would. Because then everything would be perfect.
I love Chloe.
And she loves me.
We spent too many years apart, too many years yearning and waiting in heartache. She’s all I need to make my life complete, and I want so fucking bad to be all she needs too.
Exhaling heavily, I close my eyes in a long blink. My heart lurches when I open them and see a small crowd of people coming down toward the baggage claim. I stand, lips curving into a smile, and spot Chloe among them. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles broadly.
Her dark auburn hair cascades over her shoulder in messy waves and her eyes light up the whole damn place. A slight flush covers her cheeks, reminding me of how she looks when we’ve just finished making love. My dick stirs at the thought, and everything else goes out the window. There’s no nerves, no dread. I want to get lost in her over and over, feeling nothing but pleasure.
I move closer, pulse picking up speed the closer she gets.
“Sam,” she breathes, sidestepping around a slow-moving couple, and comes to me. With my heart in my throat I throw my arms around her, crushing her against me. Fuck, it feels so good to have her back in my arms. I break away just enough to put my lips to hers, kissing her with no care that we’re surrounded by hundreds of people. I run a hand through her messy hair and slip my tongue in her mouth. Sweeping my other hand down her back, I pull her closer to me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should stop, but it’s easy to get carried away when it comes to Chloe. Her carry-on bag slips from her shoulder, yanking her arm down and forcing us to stop kissing.
“Hello to you too,” she breathes, hiking her bag back up. I reach out and take it from her, surprised at how heavy it is.
“What do you have in here?” I ask, working hard to resist the urge to kiss her again, and hook the bag over my shoulder.
“Books and my laptop. I brought the whole Nightfall series with me to flip through on the plane. I purposely set up a lot of loose ends throughout the series and needed to double-check some things before I get too far into what I’m writing.”
“Don’t you have them all in digital format?” I ask with a laugh.
“Oh, I do, but there’s something about flipping through my notes that’s just easier for me. And I like the feel of a nice, thick book in my hands.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I’m all the more tempted to find an empty closet and fuck her senseless. “But there’s another thick thing I’d like in my hand even more.”
Goddamn, this woman is going to kill me.
“Do you want to know what it is—”
“Are you Chloe Fisher?” a young woman rushes out, coming over to Chloe. She’s clutching a worn copy of Nightfall in her hands. “Oh my God. You are, aren’t you? Oh my God! I just love you and your series and—oh, I’m so sorry. You probably don’t want to be bothered!”
Chloe beams. “I am, and it’s fine. I see you’re a fan of Marcus and Kellie.”
“I’ve read it probably a hundred times. Maybe more!” the woman says with a nervous high-pitched laugh. “And I’ve seen every episode at least twice. I totally imaged Kellie to look like you when I read it and then when you and Charles started dated it was like—oh my God—Kellie and Marcus are real! But then you guys broke up and…” She trails off, eyes going to me.
“Would you like me to sign your book?” Chloe asks and the woman jumps up and down with excitement. We step off to the side and Chloe writes a nice little note in the book and takes a few selfies with the woman before coming back to me.
“I thought you said getting recognized only happens in Silver Ridge,” I tease, lacing my fingers through hers.
“It happens from time to time, and never did until the show started and I started doing talk shows. Those things are nerve wracking, by the way. I kind of hate doing them, to be honest.”
“I don’t think I’d like it either.” We slow at the baggage carousel, waiting for the suitcases to start coming around. “I’ve never sat and watched a whole interview through,” I admit. “Seeing you reminded me of how much I fucked up.”
Chloe squeezes my hand. “You’re more than welcome to continue to make it up to me in the form of back rubs and multiple orgasms.”
“Fuck,” I mutter and pull her close, burying my face in her neck. Chloe slips her arms around my waist, fingers inching up my shirt.
“I cannot wait to strip you down and put your cock in my mouth,” she whispers, and I just about lose it. Groaning, I put my lips to her neck and she shivers, sliding her hand around to my chest. Inhaling deep, I straighten up and press a kiss against her forehead.
“How was the flight?” I ask, needing to shift my attention away from the thought of Chloe’s naked body.
“Other than being late, not too bad. I got a row to myself, which was nice. There was a group of college kids coming to Chicago for someone’s party or something and they maxed out on the amount of drinks you can order on a flight. It’s one per hour, by the way.”
“You knew that before, didn’t you?”
She laughs. “I might have maxed out drinks before too, but only because it was a short flight and the wine they bring is so less than an actual glass and probably watered down. I ordered one glass on the way here and it was not good.”
“I picked up some wine for you, though I’m not sure if it’s any good. I’m not a wine person.”
She looks up and smiles. “I’ll turn you into one, and thank you. That was really sweet of you.”
“If you’re going to draw all the blinds and sit in the dark writing all day, you might as well drink too, right?”
“You know me well,” she laughs. “Oh, there’s my suitcase!”
I grab it for her, and we start the long walk to my car, holding tight to Chloe’s hand the whole way. It’s late and the airport isn’t as crowded as it normally is. Chloe and I are the only ones around as we enter the parking garage. The air has taken a bit of a chill to it, reminding us that fall is on the horizon, and gone will be the long, hot days of summer.
My car comes into view and my heart flutters with anticipation. We’re one step closer to getting home and getting naked. My cock jumps again, and I lose my battle with keeping my hands off of Chloe as soon as I get her suitcase in the trunk of the car.
The carry-on bag falls from my shoulder and I pull Chloe in, pinning her between the car and myself. She hooks her arms around my neck and I step in, pressing myself against her.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I pant and put my lips to hers. She slides one hand up to the back of my head, kissing me with fervor. Running my hands down her body, I slowly inch up the hem of her dress. My cock hardens from the feel of her warm, soft skin against my fingertips, and Chloe moans softly, slipping one hand down to cup
my balls.
“Have you been reading my books?” she whispers, voice all breathy with want.
“No, should I have been?” I kiss her again before she can answer.
Her lips curve into a smile. “No, but I love gray sweatpants. It’s kind of a weakness.”
I flick my eyes down at the pants I have on. I changed after work, wanting to wear something comfortable. “Really?”
“Yeah, because of this.” She moves her hand up, feeling my erection through the pants. “I want you, Sam. How long does it take to get to your place from here?”
“Too long,” I say gruffly and open the rear passenger door to my BMW. Chloe gets a devilish glint in her eyes, looks around at the empty parking garage, and pulls me into the car with her. I grab the carry-on bag and toss it in and close the door behind us.
We fall together onto the seat, struggling to find room and not be too cramped, but mostly not caring about anything else other than each other. I’m on top of Chloe and she inches my pants down as I desperately pull her dress up, needing to see her. Touch her. Taste her.
My fingers sweep over her clit, and I can feel how wet and warm she is already. My cock is so hard it hurts, and I need to bury it inside of her. Now.
Chloe pulls my pants and my boxers down to my thighs, and I sit back, bringing her into my lap so she’s straddling me. In a less graceful move, I get her underwear off and bunch her dress up around her waist. She’s on her knees, pussy hovering just inches from my cock. Pale yellow light from the dimly lit parking garage filters through my tinted windows, lighting Chloe’s face up just enough for me to admire how fucking beautiful she is.
My hands fasten around her waist and I kiss her as I bring her down onto me, cock pushing into her tight, hot entrance.
“Ohhh,” she moans, sinking down. Her eyes fall shut and her lips part. She looks so fucking hot and being inside of her feels so good, I could come right now. I slide my hands up to the curve of her waist and rock her hips forward. Slowly, she drags her hands up my chest, hooking them around my neck, and starts to pump up and down.
I sweep my hand across her stomach and circle my thumb against her clit. Her breathing quickens as she gets closer to coming. I’m already right there, fighting it off, not wanting to come until she does. Her head falls forward, resting against mine, and I feel her entire body tighten just seconds before she comes, pussy spasming around my cock. I can’t resist her any longer and grip her waist, pushing her against me as I come as well.
“Oh, fuck,” Chloe pants, arching her back and speeding up her movements. She circles her hips and a second orgasm rolls over her, making her whole body shudder. She lets out a final deep sigh and falls against me. I run my hands up her back, holding her tight in my embrace.
“How…how do we get up without making a mess?” She lifts her head off my shoulder and looks at me shyly.
“Hang on,” I say, keeping one hand on her back as I lean over and feel for her underwear on the ground. She takes it and holds it against herself as she moves off me. The blanket I keep in my backseat for naps at work is on the floor, under her carry-on bag, and it takes a bit of maneuvering to free it. I pull up my pants and we settle in the seat together, covered up with the blanket.
“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she starts, taking my hand and putting it up against hers. “And it also makes homecoming sex really amazing.”
“It does.” I kiss the back of her head. “Though I’m very confident our sex will always be amazing. I want to fuck you and make you come every single day.”
She looks at me, cheeks still a little flushed. “I’d like that, and I do like having a big bed to have sex in,” she adds with a slight laugh.
“I haven’t had sex in a car since…shit, my freshman year of college.”
“I’ve never had sex in a car.”
“Never?”
Chloe shakes her head, pushing her dark red hair back over her shoulder. “I also didn’t lose my virginity when I was fifteen, you whore.”
“How did you know that?” I ask, mind flashing back to my first time. I’d been dating Amanda Stillwell for a few months when we decided we didn’t want to be virgins anymore. Our first time was nothing to brag about, and I think I came in under three minutes. I never kept secrets from Chloe, but she was only thirteen at the time and our age difference started to bother me. I wanted her then, and I remember her starting to look more and more mature each day, making it harder for me to resist her. That’s when I started telling myself she was more like a sister to me. It was a futile attempt to safeguard her, to put her one zone further than the friend zone.
Obviously, it didn’t work.
“I knew a lot about you back then. I was low-key stalking your every move since I was hopelessly in love with you,” Chloe says so seriously I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. “I hid a digital voice recorder in your room and bribed Mason to bring it to me every morning before school by letting him see my boobs.”
I laugh. “Sadly, that would have worked.” I hold her tighter against me. “But you didn’t show him your boobs, did you?”
“No,” she chuckles. “You’re the only Harris to have seen them. Well, I think Rory’s seen them. I know we’ve changed in front of each other before. You’re the only Harris who’s touched them, that’s for sure.”
“As long as it stays that way.”
She tips her head up, biting her lip. I’ve come to notice she does it as a nervous habit, not because she’s trying to look seductive. “I hope you’re the only one from now on who gets to touch them.”
“I plan on it,” I tell her, fully meaning it. I’ve loved Chloe for so long. Now that she’s mine, I will do anything to keep it that way.
Anything.
6
Chloe
“Are you hungry?” Sam fishes the keys to his apartment from his pocket.
“Starving,” I say as he unlocks the door and pushes it open wide, motioning for me to step in first.
“Good, because I might have made dinner. Well, not dinner, but something to eat.”
Smiling, I turn and am struck all over again by just how handsome Sam is. Thick brown hair, striking blue eyes, a sharp stubble-covered jaw and full lips. He’s exactly the type of man I’d write about…or maybe the men I write about look the way they do because of Sam.
He’s so much more than his good looks, though. He’s smart and kind and—most importantly—he’s my boyfriend now.
“You cooked for me?”
“Cooked is relative,” he chuckles and wheels my suitcase into the foyer, and then closes and locks the door behind us. The apartment is dark, and light from the city below illuminates the corner windows. “So if it’s terrible, don’t hold it against me.”
“As much as my dad likes to joke that I’m all prissy, I promise I’m not a picky eater. You put food in front of me, and unless it’s just garbage, I’m gonna eat it.” I lean over, undoing the straps to my sandals. I wanted to dress up more than I normally would for a plane ride, wanting to look good for Sam. But I draw the line at wearing heels on a plane. My flats are designer, not that Sam, or really anyone else for that matter, even cares. “Which probably is something I shouldn’t tell too many people.”
“Eating is one of my favorite things to do,” he says back, and I wiggle my eyebrows. We both laugh and Sam comes over, closing the distance between us. My eyes flutter shut when his arms go around me, and I let out a sigh of relief to be back here with him.
“Let’s eat,” I say, knowing he has to work in the morning. He plants a kiss on my forehead and takes my hand, leading me to the kitchen. I sit at the island counter and he opens the oven.
“It’s still warm,” he says, mostly to himself. “I just turned the oven off before I left and hoped it would retain the heat.” He pulls out a casserole dish and I immediately recognize what he made. My face lights up and my heart swells. “But I can reheat it if you want it warmer.” He sets the artichoke dip on
the counter and gets a bowl of cut-up apple slices from the fridge.
“Is this your mom’s recipe?” I ask, looking up at Sam.
“Yeah. I called her and got it from her. She wants a report from you in the morning. Tell her she makes it better.” He puts the bowl of apple slices down and takes a seat next to me. “Even though I know mine is the best.”
“Thanks, Sam.” I grab an apple slice and stick it in the dip. “That was really sweet.”
“I can be sweet from time to time.” He playfully nudges me, watching as I take a bite. “Well?”
“It’s good!” I say once I’m done chewing. “It tastes exactly like I remember, but better since you made it.”
“Just don’t set the bar too high,” he jokes. “I can cook, but I usually make the same things over and over.”
“About three years ago, I decided that once a week I was going to try and cook a really good dinner. That lasted a few months, actually, which was longer than I thought I’d last. But then I went on tour and it threw off the routine. I like cooking,” I start and get another apple slice to scoop up more dip. “But going through all that trouble just for myself doesn’t seem worth it. Plus, I have no one to help me do dishes.”
“You don’t have servants?” Sam teases.
“I do have a housekeeper, but I’m guessing you do too?”
“Yeah,” he admits. “They come every other week. I feel like I don’t use the space enough to warrant anything more.” He turns his head, looking at me.
“I get it. And for the weeks when I’m traveling, my house is pretty much empty.”
“I’m kind of surprised you don’t have pets. Other than the horse.”
“Remember Salem?” I ask.
Sam nods. “The black cat you got in high school.”
Desperate Times (Silver Ridge Series Book 2) Page 4
