Desperate Times (Silver Ridge Series Book 2)

by Emily Goodwin

“I took him with me. He lived to be nineteen. After he died, I was too sad to get another cat, but I kinda want to now. Cats are fairly easy, and I can have my P.A. come by to take care of them when I’m out. She gets my mail and makes it look like someone is home when I’m away for work.”

  “P.A.?” Sam questions.

  “Oh, right. I forget people don’t know what I’m talking about sometimes. Personal assistant.”

  “Sounds fancy.”

  I laugh. “It sounds fancier than it is. She mostly manages my social media and emails but helps with other things too.”

  “Now I’m imagining you being a jerk boss like Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada.”

  I laugh. “I’m not at all, and you’ve seen that movie?”

  “I have, and I like it. Mean Girls is good too.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “What about The Notebook?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t see how it’s a love story.”

  “I said the same thing! And as much as I hate using this term, but I’m surprised you watch chick flicks.”

  “I do have a sister,” he reminds me, nudging me with his arm.

  “A sister who’s seen my boobs.”

  “Way to ruin the moment,” he says with a frown, and I laugh. “Do you want anything more than dip? I have leftover chicken in the fridge, or I could order something. I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow night, just so you know.”

  “The dip is perfect, and I’m excited for dinner. I brought a dress I’ve never worn before just for date-night.”

  “It’s supposed to be warm tomorrow night too. We could walk along the river after dinner, if you want.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” I reach for another apple slice, looking at Sam again. He yawns, and I remember again we have a two-hour time difference and he’s not used to staying up late like I am. “I need to take a shower. Want to join me?”

  Sam gives me a smirk. “You really have to ask?”

  “You have to leave already?” I grumble, eyes fluttering open for just a second. It’s still dark out, and Sam just hit the snooze on his alarm. “One more minute?”

  “One more,” he says back, sounding just as tired as I feel. We had amazing sex—again—before going to sleep, and Sam spent a considerable amount of time with his head between my legs. I was exhausted from coming three times in a row. He has to be exhausted as well.

  I roll over, sliding my hand up Sam’s back, and run my fingertips up and down his shoulder. He moves closer, draping his arm around me. I swear only thirty seconds pass before the alarm goes off again. Sam hits snooze and takes me in his arms, pressing my body against his.

  I’m warm and comfy and don’t want him to leave. This weekend cannot come fast enough when we can lounge around in bed, having lazy morning sex followed by something way more invigorating later.

  When his alarm goes off for the third time, he slowly forces himself away from me. “I need to get up or I’ll be late,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

  “I’ll get up with you,” I say, but make no attempt to move. I am not a morning person. At all.

  “Stay in bed.” He kisses me and then disappears out of the room. I tell myself I’m going to get up in just a minute, but I think at least ten have passed by the time I drag my ass out of bed. I’m a little stuffy and my throat hurts, so even though I plan to go back to sleep, warm coffee sounds good.

  Yawning, I sit up and run my fingers through my messy hair. There’s no point in trying to tame it now; it would take way too long. It was wet when I fell asleep and is a tangled mess of unruly waves. My suitcase is open on the floor next to the bed, and I grab a black satin robe. I have nothing on underneath and plan to keep it that way.

  I make a quick trip to the bathroom, making sure I got all my mascara off last night so I didn’t wake up looking like Alice Cooper, and use the toilet before going into the kitchen to find Sam.

  “Morning,” I say, smile coming to my lips as soon as I see him.

  He looks up from his phone and smiles back. “Morning. I thought you were going to sleep in.”

  I sniffle, assuming the change in climates and air quality is making my allergies flare up, and go over to Sam. “I’ll go back to bed after you leave. For now, I want coffee.”

  He twists in the barstool, setting his phone on the counter, and pulls me into his embrace. I hook my arms around his shoulders and close my eyes, resting my forehead against his. “I wish you could stay home with me.”

  “I do too,” he says back. “Though you wouldn’t get any work done. I’d keep you busy all day.” He lifts his head, giving me his trademark grin. It sends a rush through me, turning me on in an instant. Sam's phone buzzes, and I flick my eyes to the counter. Someone named Archer sent him a text.

  We break apart so I can get coffee and Sam can reply to the text. “My friend Archer and his wife Quinn are coming into the city for work,” Sam starts. “They want to double-date tonight. We already had plans to go out just the two of us, so if you don’t want to, don’t feel bad.”

  “Oh, that’d be fun!” I fill a mug up halfway with coffee. “I’d like to meet your friends.” There’s so much history between Sam and I that I sometimes forget we had years to build separate lives. Meeting Sam’s friends is another step in our relationship.

  “Quinn is excited to meet you. She’s Rory’s sister-in-law, so she knows about you already. Sorry,” he adds with a half-smile.

  “You said you introduced Rory to her husband, so if Quinn is her sister-in-law, then she’s related to Dean…somehow?”

  “I kind of introduced them, though I will take credit if I can. Archer is Quinn’s husband. He’s a surgeon and we worked and roomed together during our residency,” he reminds me. “And Archer and Dean were friends before that. When Rory was looking for a new job as an OR nurse, I told her to apply at the hospital were Archer works because I knew they were looking for new nurses. So yeah.” He takes a drink of coffee, looking smug. “I orchestrated the whole thing. I’m a matchmaker.”

  I let out a snort of laughter. “Sounds like it.” I take a sip of coffee, and it feels so good against my scratchy throat. “I think I need to take notes. Quinn and Dean are siblings?”

  “Yeah, he’s her older brother.”

  “And you and Archer were friends from med school?”

  “Residency. It’s different than med school.”

  “Okay, residency. So, you met Dean through being friends with Archer, who’s married to Dean’s sister, and your sister is married to Dean.”

  “Yeah, it sounds complicated, but it’s not.”

  “I think it’s neat how you guys are all friends.” I bring my coffee over and sit next to Sam. “You were always close with your siblings. It’s nice how you guys still talk and hang out.”

  “We don’t as much as we used to,” he admits.

  “It’s harder when you don’t live in the same house anymore, let alone the same town. But you do go home every once in a while.”

  “We do, not always at the same time, but Mom makes sure of it.” He tucks my unruly hair behind my ear. “Though it never felt the same without you.” Pain reflects in his crystal blue eyes and he furrows his brows. “I wish I could go back,” he says softly. “Then everything would be…would be how it should have been from the start.”

  “Me too,” I say just as quiet. “Though I like to believe things happen for a reason, and everything that happened before makes us who we are today. The good…the bad…it was all meant to be in some weird, confusing, and sometimes very unfair reason.”

  “Like destiny?” He pulls me onto his lap, leaning back in the high-back barstool.

  “I suppose, but I also think we can create our own destiny, which contradicts what I just said, I know.” I shrug. “I’m no philosopher, but enough bad shit has happened I have to believe it’s for a reason.” My mind goes to my mom and how she was taken away too soon. “But a lot of good stuff happened too, and it wasn’t by some
stroke of luck. It was hard work and determination.”

  “I think I know what you mean,” he says and runs his fingers through my hair again. “We can control a lot of what goes on around us, but at the same time, have no control over just as much.”

  I slowly bob my head up and down. “I think it comes down to how you choose to look at it. Your attitude makes a big difference, that’s why I chose to see it as things happening to make me who I am today. If I wasn’t such a weirdo, I wouldn’t have been ostracized in school, which wouldn’t have led me to live in my own little fantasy world, which drove me to create my Nightfall series.”

  “Things happen for a reason,” he replies and gently cups my face in his large hands.

  “Like us finally finding each other.”

  He diverts his eyes for a moment, and then looks back with a smile. “Just like that.” He kisses me and rests his head against my breasts. We stay like that for a minute, and then Sam begrudgingly gets up to go to work.

  “You look nice,” I tell him, openly checking him out. He’s wearing dress pants with a button-up shirt tucked in and a black leather belt tying it all together. “I thought you’d get to wear sweats or something to work since you change when you get to the hospital, right?”

  “I do change right way, and it’s hospital policy,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Physicians have to—quote—look like physicians—when we enter or leave the facility. I’m pretty sure the only other people who see me this early are the other doctors who walk in with me.”

  “Well, I like it, but if you want to come home wearing only a lab coat, I wouldn’t object either.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a wink. Before he leaves for work, he makes sure I have keys and know the code to get into the apartment, and then gives me a very good kiss goodbye. I take my time finishing my coffee and then grab my computer and go back to bed. I make myself write an entire chapter before allowing any sort of social media usage, and three hours later, I’m ready for a nap. My throat hurts again, annoying me more than anything. I don’t have time for a cold, and getting sick as soon as I get to Sam’s is not what I had in mind.

  Nevertheless, I push on with my writing. I’m not behind but not ahead, and if I can get another few chapters written today, then I’ll be able to enjoy the weekend with Sam, which is pretty damn motivating. Still, the fact that I’m technically not behind makes me want to slack off and spend too much time mindlessly scrolling through social media.

  Think about the weekend, Chloe, I remind myself. Sleeping in, lounging naked in bed next to Sam without a care or worry...I close my eyes and inhale, trying to hype myself up.

  It works, and I’ve written so much by the time that Sam gets home my wrists hurt.

  “Hey, babe,” I say, looking up from my laptop, blinking. I moved to the living room couch halfway through the day, needing to get out of bed or risk falling asleep. “How was work?”

  “Busy,” he says, going to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “I’m glad to be home.”

  I double-check that I’ve saved and backed up my progress and go over to him. He quickly dries his hands and takes me in his arms. My heart flutters in my chest and I know I’m getting a little ahead of myself imaging this is our new routine, though I don’t see the harm in thinking of the future. Sam is my end game. I just know it.

  “And I’m glad you’re home.” I stand on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kiss him. He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck, nipping and sucking at my skin. “Mmmm,” I groan, ignoring the little voice in the back of my head that reminds me I need to get dressed for dinner. Sam texted me earlier, letting me know he got us a reservation for eight-thirty…which is only an hour from now. The place is close to his apartment at least, and we can get an Uber and be there in twenty to thirty minutes assuming traffic isn’t terrible.

  I looked the restaurant up online. It’s expensive but not stuffy, and the dark blue dress I brought will be perfect for it. I already curled my hair this afternoon and just need to run my fingers through it to break up the spirals, letting my hair fall into more manageable waves than what naturally occur when I let my hair air dry.

  “Are we meeting your friends at the restaurant?” I ask, closing my eyes and rolling my neck to the side so Sam can keep kissing me. Right now, I don’t really care who we’re meeting or when or where we’re supposed to meet.

  “Yeah,” Sam breathes, breath warm on my neck.

  “I should…should get changed then.”

  “You should.” He sweeps his hands down to my ass and gives it a good squeeze. “I can help you with that.”

  “Can you?”

  He lifts his head and looks at me hungrily. “You have to take this off before you can get dressed.”

  “Yes.” I take my bottom lip between my teeth and suck in a quick breath. “I do. And this t-shirt is pretty difficult to remove. I need your doctor-brain to figure out how to remove it.”

  “Doctor-brain?” he chuckles.

  I purse my lips, stepping in a little closer. “I told you, I’m not good with dirty talk on the fly.”

  “You were good with it last night.”

  “I rehearsed it.”

  Sam laughs and then realizes I’m serious. “With who?”

  “The old guy sitting next to me on the plane. He got up to use the bathroom when we were done, and I don’t think he actually had to go, if you know what I mean.” I give him a big wink, hold a straight face for just a few seconds, and then burst out laughing. “I did in my head, though I was a littler dirtier in here.” I tap my temple and Sam’s eyebrows go up. “I had this whole thing planned to tell you how wet I get when I think about you, but I’ll save it for another day.”

  “Are you thinking about me now?” His grip on me tightens, and he puts his lips to my neck again, making heat flash through me.

  “I…I think you should find out.” My eyes fall shut and I toss my head back, parting my lips. Sam’s teeth nip at my skin as he slowly inches his fingers down the front of my pajama pants

  “Fuck,” he groans, sweeping his fingers over my entrance, finding me wet for him already. I whimper as his deft fingers play with my clit. I rest my head against him, widening my stance to give him better access to my core. He takes his time, teasing me with his fingers, stroking me only to stop again, getting me so revved up I’m desperate for more.

  I slide one hand down his firm chest, fingers running over every button on his dress shirt. The metal buckle on his belt is cool to the touch, and I slowly pull at it, too distracted by what Sam’s doing to me to concentrate on anything more than how fucking good this feels.

  He pushes two fingers inside me, going right to that sweet spot that weakens my knees. I bring my hands back up, needing to hold onto him for support. His fingers pulse inside of me, rubbing and stroking me in a way he knows is going to make me come. We’ve known each other for so long, but being together in a romantic sense is still new to us. Yet there’s no second-guessing anything when it comes to him pleasuring me. It was like my body was made for him to play, and his knows the song by heart.

  I untuck his shirt and start undoing the buttons, fingers moving as fast as they can while I still struggle to hold myself up. Sam kisses me hard and pulls his hand from between my legs so I can strip him. His button-up falls to the ground, and I pull his white undershirt over his head, adding it to the pile of clothing on the floor.

  I run my hands over his firm chest, down to the V-cut muscles above his hips. Sam advances, taking me in his arms and lifting me onto the kitchen counter. My legs curl around him, feeling his cock hardening through his pants. He cups my chin, turning my face up to his, and kisses me as he slides his hand to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my thick hair.

  “I missed you today,” he pants between kisses.

  “I can tell,” I say as I undo his belt, feeling his cock pressing against my hand. Slowly, I pop the bottom on his pants, flicking my eyes down
to see the wet tip of his cock sticking out over the top of his boxers. I push my hand down, wrapping my fingers around his cock. Fuck, he’s so big it’s still a wonder I can fit all of him inside me.

  Sam lets out a soft moan, resting his head against mine as I pump my hand up and down, thumb circling over the tip of his dick, spreading the precum down his shaft. His lips meet mine again, kissing me once more before pulling my hand from his boxers. He eases me back on the counter and takes off my pajama pants.

  “And I missed your tight, wet pussy.” His words send another jolt through me and he dives between my legs, mouth hovering over my core, teasing me with his hot breath. I buck my hips, needing to feel him against me, but he turns his head, gently kissing the inside of my thigh. I’m impatient, desperate to come, but I know Sam will make it well worth my while when I’m writhing with pleasure against him.

  More than once. Because when it comes to Sam, I know he’ll always make me come at least twice. And with the distance between us and not being able to do this as often as we liked, I know tonight will be just as good if not better than before.

  Why the hell did we wait so long to finally get together?

  He turns his head, kissing my other thigh, and slowly licks his way to my center, tongue hovering above my clit, enjoying the second of hesitation way too much.

  “Sam,” I moan, and he slides his hands under my ass, lifting me off the counter and to his face. With no warning, his tongue lashes out against me. My pulse pounds through me, and I glance down, watching Sam eat me out. The counter bites into my elbows, but the discomfort barely registers in my mind. I’m fairly certain the sky could be falling and I wouldn’t notice right now.

  Sam licks and sucks at me, working his tongue like magic. My muscles tense as I press one hand against the cool quartz counter and reach for Sam’s hair, fingers slipping through his dark locks.

  “Don’t. You. Dare. Stop,” I pant, and Sam looks up, catching me watching him. He flashes a smirk and gets back to work, not stopping until I’m coming against his face, entire body humming from the orgasm.