by Jenna Jacob
I opened my mouth to rail on him, but he quickly covered my lips with his finger. “Search your heart, baby. Do you really want what we have to end?”
No, I didn’t. But I couldn’t tell him that, at least not yet. Not until I stopped waffling and made up my mind, because this indecision was driving me batshit crazy.
“I don’t know, Sam. I’m just confused right now,” I confessed on a sigh of resignation.
“I know you are, baby. But shutting me out isn’t the answer. Give me a chance to peel back the layers of the woman hiding inside you. Let me grant you a taste of freedom you’ve never known.”
“How?” I asked. My voice cracked with trepidation.
“Trust me. Trust me unconditionally with your heart, mind, body, and soul.”
Trust him? Unconditionally? Right. He might as well be asking me to scale Mt. Everest in a bikini while mixing Mai Tais.
“I…I’m not good at that, Sam.”
“I knew that the second you accused me of sleeping with Destiny. What I don’t know is why?” Settling a finger under my chin, Sam tilted my head back. “Tell me, Allisinda. Tell me who broke your heart.”
Humiliation and apprehension congealed in a ball at my throat. Liz was the only person, besides my parents, who knew my humiliating secret. If I told Sam what had been done to me, he’d only shower me with pity. The sordid details needed to stay in the past, where they belonged.
“Sam, it’s—”
“Important. Important for me to know everything about you,” he interrupted as he stroked his thumb across my bottom lip. “I need to know your secrets, your fears, and your fantasies. Along with all your hopes and dreams so I can take care of you the way I should…the way I need to.”
“You already take care of me…good care of me,” I whispered, unable to tear my gaze from his.
A slow smile slid over his lips. “But I want to do much more…take all this to a deeper level.” Turning sober, he frowned. “Stop stalling. Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Exhaling a ragged breath, I worried I wouldn’t be able to push the words past my lips. Closing my eyes, I blocked out Sam’s face. I couldn’t stomach watching his reaction when I revealed my ugly past.
“Four and a half years ago, my father walked me down the aisle of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York,” I began, speaking softly. “It was a big wedding…very big. My dress alone cost over a quarter of a million dollars.” I felt and heard Sam’s astonished intake—I kept my eyes shut. “Waiting for me at the altar was my fiancé, the prodigal neurosurgeon Dr. Darnell Willingham Edmonton the third.”
Even saying his name aloud left a bitter taste on my tongue.
“Edmonton? Fuck,” Sam whispered. Obviously he knew or had heard of my former fiancé.
“When we announced our engagement, the Times called our impending nuptials the event of the year. Thousands of guests crammed into the massive cathedral to witness the children of two revered physicians exchange vows. When I was getting dressed, Mother informed me that several members of Britain’s royal family were in attendance. Of course, so was the cream of the social elite from New York and other US cities.”
“Noland…Rufus Noland? Is he your father?” Sam’s question was rife with awe and shock.
“Yes,” I confessed.
“And you’ve kept that little secret from me…why?”
“I didn’t want any preferential treatment or someone deciding to advance my career simply because of my father. My reputation is my own, good or bad, thank you very much.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.” Sam chuckled. “Go on.”
“As soon as my father led me up the steps to the altar, the smile on Darnell’s face faltered. He grew as stiff as a board. His skin turned an ashy grey. Fear danced in his eyes like some kind of caged animal. He took a step toward me, cleared his throat, then apologized. He nodded at my father and explained that he’d be right back.”
“Except he didn’t come right back, did he?” Sam asked in an angry tone.
“No,” I whispered. The memories rolled through me on a bitter wave. I was reliving each sight, sound, and smell that stabbed my heart and forced the same debilitating embarrassment to pump through my veins.
Sam’s warm breath fluttered over my lashes as he sipped the tears spilling from the corners of my eyes. Sliding a warm hand to the back of my neck, he massaged the tense muscles knotted there.
“Finish your story, Allisinda,” he coaxed, pressing a sweet kiss upon my temple.
“The longer we waited, the more rigid my father became. With our elbows locked together, he held me tight, forcing me to face the front of the altar while anger rolled off him in powerful waves. It seemed as if we stood there for hours before Calvin, Darnell’s best man mumbled something to the priest and darted away.
“I stood there, humiliation pumping through my veins like acid, and stared at the golden crucifix, praying that Calvin would bring Darnell back. I kept hoping that his bout of cold feet was nothing but a bump in the road of our new beginning. God, I was so naïve and stupid.”
A bitter scoff slid from my lips. “I later discovered that cold feet was the least of our problems. No, Darnell never came back. After another twenty minutes, the bridesmaids, who I thought were my friends, decided the embarrassment of standing alongside me—the poor, pitiful, discarded bride—was simply too much for their shallow egos. Every one of them, all sixteen, bailed without me.”
Sam muttered something that sounded like a curse.
“The groomsmen soon followed, leaving me, my father, and the priest standing at the altar alone. The buzzing voices of the guests behind us grew louder and thrummed in my ears. Thankfully, the priest raised his hands and instructed everyone to bow their heads in prayer. By then, a full-fledged war had ensued inside me. It took every ounce of strength I had not to break down, sink to the ground, and dissolve in a puddle of tears.
“Somehow, I managed to keep my shit together and hold on to the last few threads of dignity. A short time later, one of the groomsman appeared and whispered something to the priest. With a look of regret, the man slowly approached my father and me. He apologized and informed us that Darnell had left the cathedral and that there would be no wedding.”
Sam gently caressed my cheek as I continued.
“With a nod, my father thanked the priest, then darted a glance behind him. Seconds later, my mother was at my side. Unchecked tears spilled down her cheeks, but she held her head high and painted on a painful smile. Then, without a word, she and my father escorted me to a private room behind the altar.
“Mother wiped her tears, then led me to a long couch, where she pulled me down beside her. She patted my hand, but I don’t remember a word she said. I was too busy watching my father pacing back and forth while cursing under his breath. He was uttering words I didn’t think he even knew. But even alone with my parents, I refused to come undone. I didn’t want them to see…” Pausing, I swallowed tightly. “See how weak a man had made me.”
Sam’s body tensed. An anxiety-inducing silence stretched between us before he brushed a feathery kiss over my lips. “Did you ever find out why Darnell chose to run out on you?”
“Yes,” I scoffed acridly, wishing I could escape revealing the bitter ending to my story. “Darnell was a golden boy in most everyone’s eyes. From the outside, he was confident, poised, and seemed to have it together. But inside he was an emotionally stunted adolescent. Maybe he didn’t get enough attention from his ubër-rich mommy and daddy. But then again, who did? We were both raised by what I penned the Social Elite Circus. Neither of us had been permitted to be kids. Hell, from the time I could walk, my parents began grooming me to behave just like them. Every word and action was scrutinized, analyzed, and judged to be socially acceptable or not. Much to my parents’ dismay, my behavior usually ranked in the unacceptable category.”
Sam remained silent while I spewed my animosity. Still, I kept my eyes shut tight. Reliving the memor
ies made my skin crawl. A blanket of claustrophobia closed in around me. I wanted to slide out from under Sam’s body and pace…work off the nervous energy singing inside me. But I knew he wouldn’t let me. Not until I finished purging.
“Three days after the wedding debacle Darnell came to the house where he nearly polished off a fifth of father’s coveted Irish Whiskey. My unscrupulous ex confessed that he’d set up—not one, not two, but three mistresses—in various parts of the city. To, and I quote: ‘help relieve the insurmountable stress’ he was under.”
“That’s a piss-poor excuse for not being able to keep his dick in his pants,” Sam drawled derisively.
“Isn’t it?” I chortled dryly. “Evidently he was content screwing his harem while we were engaged, but he said that once he saw me walk down the aisle, he realized that one day I would find out.” A sarcastic scoff rolled off my lips. “He had no intention of getting rid of the other women; he was simply worried that his reputation would eventually be marred by an ugly public divorce. I guess he weighed his options and chose minor embarrassment over an eviscerating scandal down the road. Of course, he wasn’t the one left standing at the altar looking like an absolute idiot.”
When I paused, Sam pressed a tender kiss to my cheek. “Open your eyes, Allisinda. I need you to look at me. Now.”
Begrudgingly, I lifted my eyelids, expecting to encounter a look of pity. Instead, I was met with a look of searing rage, or rather, a tightly controlled fury etched over Sam’s face.
“Darnell is the idiot. He’s also a fucking tool and a piss-poor excuse for a man.” Sam’s expression softened. “But if I ever meet the son of a bitch, I’m going to buy him a drink.”
“You’re going to what?” I asked, stunned at his remark.
“I’m going to buy that prick-faced son of a bitch a drink.”
“Why would you do that?”
A gentle smile settled over Sam’s mouth as he brushed his fingers along the hollows of my cheeks. “Because if he hadn’t left you, I wouldn’t be here holding you in my arms like this.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Sam slanted his lips over mine, claiming my mouth with a spine-tingling kiss. My head swam and my blood surged. And all the slick, oily regret sluicing through me vanished like smoke. He drew me in with the warm texture of his lips and a slow, thorough swipe of his tongue. Without even trying Sam stirred my embers of desire into a flickering, hot flame. I could feel his heated erection grow thick and hard against my folds, making me wetter by the second. His kiss turned savage. Still, I wanted more, wanted to peel away the barrier of clothing separating our flesh and feel his steely, hot shaft sink deep inside me…one glorious inch at a time. Wanted all of him…all but his disturbing Dominant cravings.
“Thank you for being brave enough to tell me all that, sweetheart. I know it wasn’t easy.”
A tiny frown pinched my lips while his comment pressed through the lust clouding my brain.
“I understand now why submission frightens you.”
At least one of us did, because I was totally in the dark about all of it. “I’m glad you realize why it’s not for me.”
“I never said it wasn’t for you. I said I understand why it frightens you.” A knowing smirk played on his lips. “It’s my job to help you get over those fears.”
His self-assuredness set me on edge. When I opened my mouth to dissuade his lofty goals, Sam pressed a finger to my lips. “Give it a chance. Let’s see where this leads us.”
Like an anvil, reality crashed through my bubble of bliss. We shared so many similarities, yet we were light-years away from finding a common ground with all this BDSM crap. Tensing, I pushed at his shoulders, attempting to sit up.
“Easy, Cin,” he murmured as he kept me fixed beneath him.
“But what if I can’t give you the things you want?”
“What if you can’t?” He shrugged dismissively. “You already give me everything I need.”
“Maybe for now, but what about…” Shit. I’d never once broached the subject of a long-term relationship with Sam. Two days ago, it was all I fantasized about, but now? A happy ever after simply wasn’t in the cards for us.
“Down the road?” Sam finished with a quirk of his brow.
“I was going to say…what about tomorrow,” I lied.
What about tomorrow? I hadn’t been able to keep my emotional shit together for one damn morning. How was I supposed to make it through a long-term relationship with the man? I didn’t know, and at that moment, I didn’t really care. All I wanted was his anxious cock, still nestled against my pussy, to fill me, obliterate me with as many orgasms as I could endure.
“For now, let’s take it a day at a time,” he suggested in a lustful drawl. “In the meantime, since you’re already playing hooky, why don’t we go out and grab a late lunch?”
Lunch? Was he serious? I didn’t want food…I wanted him.
“Uh, okay. But my refrigerator is stocked. I can whip us up some—”
“Go get dressed, Cin,” Sam interrupted. “I’m taking you out.”
After slowly inching off me, he held out his hand. I instantly mourned the loss of his decadent heat but took the hand he offered before rising from the couch.
“Oh, and wear something sexy for me, sweetheart,” he added with a wolfish grin.
“What?” I asked, irked that he’d even suggest such a thing. I always tried to dress sexy for him. Had he honestly not noticed?
“You heard me.” Sam smiled.
“Don’t I always?” I challenged, not totally sure why I wanted to argue with the man. Ever since he’d taken me to the club, I’d been an emotional hot mess.
“Stop trying to bait me into an argument. I’m not biting.” He chuckled as took me in his arms and pressed his lips close to my ear. “You always look stunning, but scrubs aren’t exactly the tantalizing outfit I want to see you in today, sweetheart.”
Sam’s low, hungry growl took the confrontational wind from my sails.
Striding to my bedroom, I let lose an inward curse. Where had my spine gone? I should have told him I wasn’t hungry and asked him to leave.
“Who the hell are you trying to kid?” I scoffed to myself as I stood in the closet searching for something sexy. Sadly, I wanted to spend as much time with Sam as I could before it all fell apart at the seams.
Spying a silky red blouse, an evil plot hatched in my brain. “You want something sexy? I’ll give you something so sexy you’ll never forget.”
Wiggling into a tight, tiny black skirt, I slid the filmy blouse over my head, then stepped into a pair of red patent stilettos. Strolling back to the living room, I bit back a laugh when Sam’s eyes all but popped out of his skull. The hungry look of approval dancing in his eyes told me my little plan was going to be a breeze.
Flashing him a flirtatious smile, I snagged my purse off the coffee table. “I’m ready.”
“So am I, but definitely not for food,” he grumbled as he caressed another long gaze up and down my body. Sam exhaled a heavy sigh fraught with frustration, then pressed a palm to the small of my back before leading me from my apartment.
As he pulled out of the complex, I decided to test the waters. Turning my attention out the passenger window, I slowly inched one leg up before seductively drawing the point of my stiletto down the calf of my other leg.
The sudden sound of a car honking had me whipping my head toward the windshield. Sam tore his eyes off my legs, cursed, then gripped the wheel before jerking the car back into the right lane.
“Better keep your eyes on the road,” I chided with a saucy smirk.
“You’re making that awfully difficult, sweetheart.”
“Me?” I gasped with feigned innocence. “I haven’t done a thing.”
“Right.”
“So where are we going for lunch?”
“A little Italian place I enjoy. They have the best lasagna on the planet.”
“Good. I’m starving,” I replied, then slowly
licked my lips.
“You wicked minx,” Sam groused in a low growl. “Keep it up. I’ll make sure you get properly stuffed, sweetheart.”
I planned on it.
Tossing my attention out the window once again, I half-assed listened to Sam while he sang the praises of the restaurant’s food. Of course, I acted as if I were interested, but my mind was a million miles away, plotting ways to make our luncheon as sexually stimulating and painfully uncomfortable for him as possible.
If the restaurant’s décor held true to its Italian roots, I imagined red gingham tablecloths hanging low enough to shield me while I wiggled off my shoe and slid my foot to his crotch. And if we were lucky enough to be seated in a secluded booth, I’d have a teasing good time arranging for my blouse to slide off one shoulder and tempt him with a peek of my nipple partially exposed by my lacy demi bra. By the time our meal was done, Sam would learn a lesson or two about ever asking me to dress sexy for him again.
“So, you’re okay with that?” he asked, drawing me from my schemes.
“I’m sorry, I zoned off. Okay with what?”
“I said I need to stop by the club and get some things.”
“The club?” I choked on a blast of panic. Both my appetite and my plans to torment him out of his pants instantly evaporated.
“No one will be there except Mika,” Sam assured as if trying to assuage my anxiety. “It won’t take long, I promise.”
“Oh. All right. I’ll…I’ll just wait for you in the car,” I sputtered.
“You will not,” he thundered. “I’m not leaving you alone in the parking lot. In case you forgot, Kerr was shot outside the club last night.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I replied, attempting to push the disquiet from my system. “But it’s broad daylight, for crying out loud.”
“I don’t care. You’re not staying in the car.”
I rolled my eyes at his caveman dictate, then exhaled a piqued sigh. “How is he doing, by the way? Have you heard if he survived?”
