The Unforgettable Kind

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The Unforgettable Kind Page 20

by Melanie Munton


  “You like him?”

  I didn’t know if I could handle hearing the answer.

  “Sure. He’s funny and we have a lot of things in common. Besides, he’s super hot. What’s not to like?”

  I swallowed, the words hitting me like a ton of bricks. “Hot, huh?”

  She made an appreciative humming sound in her throat. “Oh, yeah. Tattoos all over his arms. Has that whole badass thing going for him. And he drives a motorcycle.”

  I hated this fucker already.

  Like, really hated him.

  The last thing in the world I wanted to see was Sam on the back of some random dude’s bike.

  “Doesn’t sound like your style.”

  I grabbed a few chips from our shared bag in hopes of hiding my dark expression. I could feel her eyes on me, but I kept mine glued to the television.

  “And how would you know what my style is? You’ve only ever seen me with Trent.”

  “Exactly. He wasn’t really the tattoos and motorcycle type.”

  “This coming from the guy who has several tattoos himself, and who once told me he’s always dreamed of owning a Harley.”

  I had to admit I liked the idea of her thinking tattoos were hot. I’d gotten inked several times since coming to college, though it wasn’t like I had sleeves. I kind of wanted to strip off my shirt right now just to witness her reaction at seeing them all up close and personal.

  I cleared my throat. “Just looking out for you.”

  “Are you and Drake working together now? Because he seems to think I need his stamp of approval before I date anyone. And I’m sorry, but a girl’s got to get laid somehow.”

  I choked on the chips in my mouth, sending me into a coughing fit.

  She just giggled.

  “Jesus Christ, Sam. Overshare much?”

  Was she actually trying to kill me? Girlfriend or not, I couldn’t take hearing about her getting laid. I chugged the rest of my Gatorade to wash out the horrible taste that left in my mouth.

  She looked supremely satisfied that she’d gotten a rise out of me. “Just saying.”

  “Well, don’t say.”

  “What? You said I could talk to you about anything.”

  “Not that. I may not be your brother, but I still don’t want to hear that shit.” For a much different reason that had nothing to do with brotherly overprotectiveness. Just possessiveness. “Date all the bad boys you want,” or not, “but don’t tell me about it.”

  She was silent for a moment. Then, “Someone once accused me of having a thing for bad boys.”

  My eyes flew to hers, confirming that, yes, I had heard her correctly. My emotions did a drastic one-eighty as heat infused my chest and quickly headed south.

  She watched me intently, her voice almost challenging when she added, “Maybe he was right.”

  Holy. Shit.

  I’d said that to her. Me. After my fight with Trent, right before she’d received the call about his mom. Admit it. You totally go for the whole bad boy vibe.

  My dick hardened in my jeans. Like bait meant to trap and destroy, her words dangled over our heads as our gazes connected and clashed. A million words were said as green battled hazel, our breaths mingling together.

  “Do you consider me a bad boy, Sam?”

  I shouldn’t have said it. I knew I shouldn’t have said it. We were hovering too close over that line we could never cross.

  I certainly didn’t expect her to answer in kind.

  “I consider you the worst kind of boy.”

  Those pools of green pierced through me, pinning me in place.

  “What kind is that?”

  We needed to stop whatever the fuck was going on here. You couldn’t shove words back into your mouth. Once they were out, they were out, and you had to deal with the consequences.

  “The unforgettable kind,” she whispered.

  Her gaze dipped to my mouth. My fingers tingled with the urge to pull her close and kiss the hell out of her. If someone had told me that we were the only two people on the planet right then, I would have believed them. It was as if a veil had suddenly dropped, shielding us from the rest of the world. I couldn’t hear the TV in the background or even recall what sport we were watching.

  Nothing existed except Sam and the fact that she’d just admitted she couldn’t forget me.

  What did that mean? I had to find out. Needed to.

  Robyn, Robyn, Robyn!

  Fuck.

  Yeah, this was bad.

  Another whistle on the TV cut through the silence, breaking the thick tension.

  The sound jolted Sam backward on the couch until there was enough distance between us to once again be considered appropriate. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned the volume up on the game, needing the distraction in order to get my unruly dick under control. For the rest of the evening, I sat there seething with a mountain of confusing questions.

  It had always been a merry-go-round with Sam ever since I met her. Just when I felt like something was finally going to happen between us, reality swooped in and smacked me in the face. But something truly pivotal happened there on that couch. Whether it was misplaced lust guiding me or a resurfacing of feelings that had never been buried in the first place, my brain was struck by a lightning bolt of sharp clarity.

  I couldn’t let her date this guy.

  Heath. The tattooed, motorcycle-riding bad boy.

  Something told me I had to stop it.

  And I knew what that meant.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Love Hurts”

  by Nazareth

  Sam

  The one thing I hated about college?

  No bathtubs.

  After a long-ass day of classes, followed by a long-ass shift at the bar, all I wanted to do was take a long-ass bath. Instead, I had to settle for a fifteen minute shower in my designated shower shoes, with disappointing water pressure, and water temperature that randomly switched between lukewarm, cold, and scalding hot without warning.

  Jasmine was at the library with her study group, allowing me to enjoy towel-drying my hair in blissful nakedness while I searched for my extra-comfy pjs. I realized how desperately I needed to do laundry when I found them at the bottom of my hamper. Frustrated, I was about to drag on a pair of ratty sweatpants when someone knocked on the door. Figuring it was just our female RA, I wrapped the towel around my middle and opened the door.

  Well, shit.

  “Kade?”

  There he stood in front of my door in all of his faded jeans and snug T-shirt glory. His brown hair was a little mussed on top, and his five o’clock shadow had grown into more of a ten o’clock half-beard.

  And those blazing hazel eyes of his? They were staring directly at my breasts.

  He scrunched his forehead and groaned without looking away from them. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why does this shit keep happening to me?”

  I tightened the towel around me. “What are you doing here?”

  He finally met my eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

  Without waiting for an invitation, he shoved past me, careful to keep all his parts a good distance away from mine. I wouldn’t have locked him out, but it would have been nice to slip on those sweatpants and an ill-fitting hoodie first. Definitely nothing tight or revealing. My traitorous body was still reeling from our intense conversation last week at his apartment. It wasn’t a great time to be naked in front of Kade.

  Yet here I am.

  I closed the door but stayed on my side of the room, far away from where he was furiously pacing back and forth.

  “Okay. What about?”

  He glanced over at my bed, then at me in my towel, and finally down at the floor. “I broke up with Robyn.”

  Um, what now?

  I was so shocked by his proclamation, I didn’t realize I’d moved until I was standing right in front of him. “Why?”

  His intense eyes seared right through me. “You know why.”

  H
e couldn’t mean what I thought. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that conversation.

  “No. I don’t know.”

  He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. To me, it looked like a move of restraint. Or hunger.

  “I can’t be that guy. I told you once I’d never cross that line.”

  “What are you talking about?” He wasn’t making sense.

  He took one step toward me. “I won’t cheat. You cheat once and you’re forever labeled as a cheater. So, I broke up with her before that could ever happen.”

  He took another step.

  I retreated backward. “Okay…”

  “But I wanted to.”

  Another step. Like a predator stalking its prey, Kade was slowly stalking me around the room.

  “That was when I knew I had a problem. I thought about doing it. I knew I had to do something when I was actually imagining cheating on her,” my back hit the wall, “with you.”

  My breathing was too loud, too shallow.

  So was his.

  His chest was heaving up and down as his eyes traveled over my face, roving down the length of me. I couldn’t process my thoughts, couldn’t come up with the words to respond, to tell him what I thought or how hearing that made me feel. His arms rose to cage me in against the wall, bringing our bodies even closer.

  “Kade, I—”

  “Don’t,” he cut me off. “Don’t tell me we can’t or that what I’m feeling is wrong. And don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the exact same thing the other night. This has been here for a long time. It’s time we finally do something about it.”

  His arm lowered until his hand gripped my waist. His fingers squeezed, his thumb rubbing across my belly. I could feel the heat of his touch even through my terry cloth towel, the warmth reaching all the way down to my toes. My heart was beating so hard, he could probably hear it pounding inside my chest.

  He leaned down, inhaled deeply, and exhaled on a sigh. “Fucking cherries.”

  When his lips grazed the skin beneath my ear, my hands flew up to his chest in pure reflex. His mouth lifted and slid along my jawline, not leaving kisses but merely breathing hotly against my flesh. Without conscious effort, my eyes drifted closed as I luxuriated in this long-awaited moment with him.

  Ever since our make-out session in high school, I’d fantasized about his kisses, remembering how skilled he’d been with his tongue and hands. Even through my drunken haze I could still clearly recall how desperate he’d been, how frantic to take as much as he could from me.

  That brief moment hadn’t been enough.

  Not even close.

  But I’d pushed that yearning to the back of my mind for the last few months. While not forgotten, that desire had simply been ignored ever since I found out about Robyn.

  Now, it was flaring back to life, as blindingly white hot as ever.

  “Kade.”

  “Sam,” he whispered against my throat.

  His hand caressed downward, electrifying my senses with every inch he covered. When he reached the curve of my ass, I sucked in a strangled gasp of air.

  Squeezing my cheek, he groaned again. “This ass. I’ve seen it in a cheerleading skirt and in skintight jeans. I’ve seen it in those thin yoga pants and those fucking short shorts you wear at the bar. But I’ve never seen it bare. Naked. Now, it’s finally right here with nothing between it and my hand but this damn towel.”

  Just when I thought he would stop there…he didn’t.

  His hand crept underneath the towel, slowly pushing the material up. I kept my eyes shut, unable to look at his face while he did something I shouldn’t have been allowing. His hand finally reached the bare flesh of my cheek, cupping it with his strong fingers.

  “Fuck,” he breathed. “That feels right, doesn’t it? So damn perfect. I don’t even have to see this from the back to know that it’s a gorgeous fucking sight. Your ass in my hand.”

  The harder he kneaded, the more light-headed I became. What I would have given to do the same with my hands. Go exploring underneath his T-shirt. Let my fingers glide over the rigid muscles of his six-pack. But…

  The word popped into my head when I felt the pressure on my butt ease as he moved toward my inner thighs.

  “Y-you just broke up with Robyn.”

  “For you, Sam. I had to do it…so I could have you.”

  Did that make me his second choice? Or did the fact that he broke up with his girlfriend make me his first choice? Did it even matter?

  “I’m sort of dating Heath now.”

  “Dump him,” he growled.

  I pushed him back. “Why should I? He’s a good guy, Kade. Do you really expect me to break up with him the second you become single again just because you demand it? How is that fair?”

  “I’m not saying anything about this is fair. I’m saying we both want it, and we’ve had these feelings for years. Tell me I’m wrong.” I said nothing, which he apparently took as an answer. “It’s not right to string other people along when we feel this way.”

  “Who says I feel anything? Who says I want this?”

  He scowled. “Don’t insult me, Sam. I know you better than anyone. I know you’ve wanted me ever since you were with Trent, and I know you want me now. You liked how I was touching you. You want me to touch you in other places, too, don’t you?”

  I didn’t appreciate him taunting me with my own temptation.

  Fine. Let him hear the truth.

  “You think you know me, huh? I’ve wanted you ever since Trent, right? Well, did you know that I was ready to tell you how I felt that first day in the coffee shop? Then I found out about Robyn.”

  He straightened, his face hardening. “I’m sorry. I should have broken up with her the second I realized I still wanted you. But she’s gone now, so you can lose Heath.”

  I laughed mirthlessly. “What, you think I said yes to a date with him just because I was annoyed about you and Robyn?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  Oh, that pissed me off. “You never considered the fact that I might actually like him?”

  His nostrils flared. “Do you?”

  When I took too long to answer, he bit out, “Do you really like him? Enough to say no to me right now?”

  “It’s not like I’m choosing him over you. That’s not what this is. I’m already dating him.”

  His hands stabbed through the air. “And staying with him is the same fucking thing as saying no to me! If you don’t break up with him for me, you’re choosing one of us. Is he your choice?”

  I wrapped my arms protectively around myself, feeling even more exposed than I had a minute ago. “You can’t just come in here and say all of these things out of nowhere. You have no right to demand anything from me.”

  He dropped his arms to his sides, his gaze burning with ferocity. “Is. He. Your. Fucking. Choice?”

  I was near tears and struggled to keep my voice from cracking. “Maybe this isn’t supposed to happen.”

  His expression blanked. “What isn’t supposed to happen?”

  “Us.”

  His features slackened, his face losing some of its color.

  “Have you ever wondered why these other people keep coming into our lives? Or why these things that keep us apart continue to happen? Maybe we’re just meant to stay friends.”

  It took him a moment to respond. “You really believe that?”

  I honestly didn’t know. I couldn’t think clearly when he stood there looking so tormented.

  “Every time we try to take the next step, it just seems like there’s all these roadblocks preventing that from happening. Like the universe is trying to stop us.”

  “I’ve told you before I don’t believe in fate,” he grated out. “Shit happens. That’s life. No one makes our choices or controls our actions but us. If you don’t want to be with me, Sam, don’t fucking blame it on something like fate. It’s a cop-out.”

  “I never said I was blaming anything—”

  “But
that’s what you mean. You want to use fate and the universe as a crutch? Fine. You want to be with another guy? Fine. Just know that I won’t be doing this again. I’m not going to crawl on my knees and beg you. I’m done.”

  He spun around and marched for the door.

  My heart hammered against my ribs. His words rang with finality, sending me into a panic.

  “What are you saying? You don’t even want to be friends anymore?”

  He whirled around to face me, his eyes wild. “I’m so sick of that motherfucking word. Friends. I can’t be your friend anymore. I’m way beyond that. I don’t want to be your cutesy little best friend who helps you with your problems while you keep me at a distance. I want more than that.”

  “And if I don’t want more, that’s it? We’re done? Our entire relationship is over?”

  He paused. “Yes.”

  A tear leaked out of the corner of my eye. He watched in stony silence as it trickled down my cheek.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s selfish of you, knowing how I feel, to expect me to be okay with that,” he rasped, his voice shaking. “I realized I was being selfish with Robyn, so I ended it before I made the situation any worse. It doesn’t matter how many guys you date, Sam. If you feel anything at all for me, you’re going to hurt them. At least I’ve finally figured that out.”

  With that final punch to my gut, he swung open the door and walked out.

  He wasn’t there when I opened the floodgates and let the rest of the tears fall.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “No More Tears”

  by Ozzy Osbourne

  Sam

  I hadn’t seen my dad in four years.

  Now, I was suddenly standing at his front door.

  Yes, he’d made his many attempts to contact me over the years, but I’d always resisted. He’d made sure I knew where he lived and how I could get in touch with him if I ever wanted to talk.

  Which, apparently, was today.

  After my unsuccessful attempts at sleeping following my fight with Kade, I left my dorm room in the middle of the night and drove all the way to a small town in northern Georgia.

 

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