“Liar!”
Without meaning to, Sam took a step backward, into the wall.
“You’re all about playing it safe, Sam. Choosing the world’s most boring specialty, when you could’ve been a rock star in almost any other field? Oh, yeah, I heard the other doctors talking about that.” She advanced a step, pinning him against the wall with her glare. “And then there’s me, Sam. You risked your job to steal back my watch for me yesterday, and then you kissed me, like I’ve never been kissed before. But now that I’m practically naked in front of you, you look like you want to run. What’s up with that, Sam?”
“I’m not….” Sam felt like his head was spinning. There was no winning this argument. Because she was right—he did want her. More than he’d ever wanted anything. But she was also right when she said that he was scared. Not of her, but of the way she made him feel. Like he’d burn the world down, just to be alone with her. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t healthy.
So he yelled right back at her, because that seemed like the most irrational, unhealthy thing to do.
“I can’t, Viola. I don’t know what I’m doing, especially right now. I can’t think. I mean, Jesus. Ever since you kissed me, I’ve been…” He shook his head, feeling like he was spiraling toward something drastic. “I don’t even know what I’ve been like! You drive me crazy. I can’t control myself around you.”
“Really?” Raising her eyebrow in challenge, Viola dropped the towel. “Prove it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“The behavior of a human being in sexual matters is often a prototype for the whole of his other modes of reaction in life.” –Sigmund Freud
When she was a little girl, Viola used to imagine what it might be like to fall in love.
Of course, eventually, all little girls have to grow up. And as she’d watched each of her school friends succumb to childish crushes one after the other, only to get their hearts broken by some clueless and careless boy, Viola had started to wonder if what she saw happening to her friends really was worth all that fuss. It wasn’t long before the bloom of young love—of sweaty handholding and clumsy first kisses—kind of lost its appeal. When she was fifteen, she’d finally decided once and for all that love was overrated.
Or at least the nauseatingly sweet, romantic comedy, ‘check this box if you like me back’ kind of love was, anyway.
The kind of love her dad used to read to her about, though, where people died for each other, or killed for each other, or hacked through giant thickets of poisonous thorns for each other…that was the kind of love she could get behind.
Unfortunately for Viola, in her deepest and most secret fantasies, the guy of her dreams had always kind of just showed up out of the blue and taken her in his arms. Claimed her. Refused to take no for an answer—even if he was a little bit scared of her, like Aiden had been. Like every guy had been.
Of course, Sam was different. Or at least, she hoped he was. Maybe the kind of guy worth changing the rules for.
Dropping her towel to hang around her waist, Viola watched searchingly as Sam tried—and failed—not to let his eyes leave her face. When they did, she could practically see his internal barriers crumbling. His jaw was clenched. His breathing became labored, like he was carrying something heavy. She watched the muscles in his throat working, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, hard.
Victory.
At that moment, she knew he wouldn’t try to stop her. She stepped forward, raised herself up on her tiptoes, and kissed him. Softly. Then she pulled back, challenge unspoken.
Come on, Sam. Fight for me.
For a few precious seconds they stood there, face to face, looking into each other’s eyes and sharing the same air. Sam’s head dipped, and he cupped her face with both hands, holding her suspended in the moment. When his lips tilted over hers, it was gentle. Fathomless.
And so deeply, terrifyingly honest.
Finally, Viola thought, as she fell into Sam. When he made a strangled sound in his throat, and reached out to grip her by the shoulders, she let the towel fall to the floor.
Surprisingly, Sam stayed firmly in control, holding on to the upper hand and taking his time. Moving his lips down her neck, behind her ear. She shuddered with impatience. Every move he made was electric, but agonizingly slow.
“Come on, Sam,” she whispered against his lips. “What are you waiting for?”
Pressing her bare skin against his fully-clothed body, Viola could’ve sworn she had dreamed about this exact moment.
But her subconscious mind must have left out a few very important details. Like the way Sam’s biceps swelled against the bands of his t-shirt, as he slid his arms slowly across her shoulders and down her back. Or the rough scrape of his chin stubble against her shoulder, sending vibrations dancing over her skin. The smell of him, though, that was the same: chlorine and cotton. He was like summer in human form. God, she wanted to devour him.
“Sam,” she whispered, pleading. “Any second, I’m going to burst into flames.”
“I’m savoring the moment,” he murmured, nibbling gently at her earlobe.
Viola sucked in a breath. “Which moment?”
“The moment before I abandon all control.”
“Mmm.” Her chest became a butterfly cage. “I like the sound of that.”
Without warning, Viola found herself whirled around and slammed backward against the door. All the breath left her lungs in a surprised ‘whoosh’ as she gazed up at Sam, wide-eyed and speechless. It hadn’t hurt, but she’d be lying if she said the move hadn’t seriously caught her off balance. His smile was slow, almost predatory.
“Maybe we should give you a safe word,” he said, trailing his hand down her neck.
Viola realized then what was happening. “Oh my God, Sam! Really?”
She laughed in his face, then immediately regretted it when Sam picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her back against the door even harder. Okay, maybe she didn’t…regret…anything.
But she did taunt him, to see if she could push him just a little bit further. “You’ve been reading some of my erotica books, haven’t you?”
“Maybe I have,” he said, with a slightly embarrassed smile. “But in my defense, you did leave them behind in 714. And I get really bored on shift when I don’t have you to talk to.”
Delighted by this very shocking turn of events, Viola wrapped her arm around Sam’s neck. “Well, I guess you’re going to have your way with me, then.”
In response, Sam nuzzled her neck, lightly grazing her with his teeth.
Oh yeah. Definitely wrong about nice boys.
Viola shivered with anticipation, but she wouldn’t dream of letting him know he’d finally gained the upper hand. Tilting her head, she ran her tongue over his bottom lip. “And here, I thought I was going to finally have my way with you.”
“No reason why we can’t take turns.” When he spoke into her mouth like that, Sam’s deep voice seemed to vibrate all the way down her spine. “I’ll go first.”
“Okay.” Arching her back, Viola pressed herself against him, biting her lip to keep from whimpering desperately. She’d never been a patient person, but this…this was getting unbearable. “Can we start now…or are you still savoring the moment?”
Sliding his hands down to grab her more firmly, Sam straightened his back and carried her easily down the hall to his room. Dropping her gently on his bed, he pulled away and knelt in front of her, letting his eyes explore her. Viola loved the look on his face, as if he was cataloguing her body in order of which parts he wanted to sample first. She chuckled, feeling slightly giddy all of a sudden. Maybe there was something to the whole ‘sexy nerd’ myth, after all.
“I am serious about one thing,” he said, running a finger slowly across her stomach. Curious, Viola followed his gaze to the ugly scar on her belly. Damn, she’d almost forgotten that was there. “If I’m too rough on you, or if anything starts to hurt, I want you to tell me.�
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“Of course, doctor.” She smiled, feeling a little self-conscious now as she arranged herself on her side, with a corner of blanket covering her from navel to hip. “As long as you promise to do the same. Unlike you, though, I make no promises to stop when you cry ‘uncle’.”
The moment she said the phrase aloud, an image of a snarling wolf popped into Viola’s head. She angrily pushed it away. Whoever said that being turned on was like an off-switch for the female brain was a goddamn liar. It was beyond messed up that she would be thinking of Uncle Jack at a time like this.
But then, that was the thing about obsession. And revenge.
“You know,” she said, in an attempt to distract herself, “Freud said that the way people have sex is pretty much the way they do everything in life. And no pressure, but I already know you had a 4.0 all through med school, and that you were a marathon swimmer. So….”
“Well, I’m starting to think that you only stop talking when you’re unconscious, so this should be interesting.” Softening his dig with a smile, Sam reached down and pulled his shirt off.
Viola gasped, reaching up to run her hands over his washboard abs. “Oh my God, where have you been hiding these?”
It was official. The more she saw of Sam Philips in the flesh, the more pathetically lacking her subconscious mind’s dream version of him seemed.
“Please, do me a favor, and never wear a shirt again. I’m serious. Not ever.”
Shaking his head, Sam lowered himself over her, arm muscles straining against his perfectly smooth skin. “I don’t think people would take me seriously as a doctor, if I went around shirtless all the time.” He ran his lips over her shoulder, before following the slant of her clavicle downward. “Besides, if it was allowed, Brady would’ve already tried it.”
“Oh, yuck! Never mention that again!” Viola laughed and squeezed her eyes shut—both to block out the visual of a shirtless Dr. Brady, and also to focus more sharply on the things Sam was doing to her with his mouth. But soon enough, she opened them again, because she wanted to get the full five senses-surround experience. Running her hands through his hair, and then over his impressively ripped shoulders, she promptly forgot what she’d been laughing about.
In fact, there was nothing left in her head but sensations, and four letter words…like need.
“Oh God, Sam….”
“Say it.”
Viola opened her eyes, realizing that somehow, at some point, he’d managed to shed the rest of his clothes and put a condom on. Talented, and stealthy. And still not inside her. What in the actual hell?
“Say…what?”
“Tell me what you really want, Viola.”
Sam hovered above her, green eyes cloudy, jaw clenched with restraint. There was even a thin sheen of perspiration on his skin.
“I want….” Her eyes looked down to where she wanted their bodies to meet…and widened. Sacré bleu. He was even bigger than she’d imagined. Perfect, in every way. Her core tightened in anticipation, slick with need.
“I want you, Sam. All of you. Right now.”
It seemed that was all he needed to hear, before finally…completely…losing control. He didn’t even let her catch her breath, before ramming into her, hard enough to slam the headboard of his bed against the wall. It should’ve been uncomfortable, even painful, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was like a lightning bolt of pleasure, shooting through her core. Viola dug her fingers into his back, holding on for dear life, preparing for a wild ride that would probably be over all too quickly.
But instead of setting a pace like a jackhammer, Sam pulled back slowly, so slowly. Because of his height, it should’ve been impossible for him to look her in the eye when their bodies were still joined, but he did it. The way he was looking at her, somehow it felt more intimate, more penetrating, than anything else he could’ve done.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he drove into her again. And again, and again. Like waves crashing against the shore during high tide, each motion built upon the pleasure of the last, hitting harder and lasting longer.
By itself, the sensation of Sam literally rocking her world should’ve been enough to drive her slightly insane. But when combined with the look in his eyes, and the way it made her heart race, Viola knew she was in trouble. The serious, permanent kind of trouble she’d been trying to stay away from her entire life.
It was too much, too soon. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing as hard as she could on the physical connection, trying to block out the rest. But that only made it worse, because with her eyes closed, the rest of her senses were heightened. The feeling of his skin, warm and soft and rough at the same time…his clean, summery smell…and most familiar of all, the sound of his voice, reassuring and challenging her at the same time.
“Viola, open your eyes. Come on, look at me.”
At his words, a memory broke away and floated to the surface. Sam’s face, floating above her, frustratingly out of focus. She’d been waiting for so long to be here in this moment. With him. Why in the world would she want to miss a single detail?
Following his whispered command, Viola opened her eyes. But she couldn’t stop herself from lashing out with her tongue in self-defense, because he was dangerously close to figuring out how much power he had over her. How much she cared about him.
“God, someone’s bossy in bed. Maybe you should—” But then Sam rotated his hips in a different way, and Viola had to bite down on her lip to keep from screaming.
Sam’s smile was more dangerous than ever. “Maybe I should…what? Slow down?”
Unlike her, he didn’t even look winded. Damn him. When had she handed over the upper hand? Since when was he so in control of…everything? Including her. Especially her.
That wasn’t going to fly. Hooking her leg around his, Viola tried to nudge him over with her hip. At least if she was on top, she’d be able to make him suffer just as much as she was.
But instead of rolling over and letting her take control, Sam grabbed her by the wrists, stretching them gently over her head to wrap her hands around his headboard. He covered her fingers with his much larger ones, effectively trapping her. When she made a sound of protest, he only smiled wider.
“Sorry, but it’s still my turn.”
Viola pretended to pout, but it was obvious she’d lost the upper hand. And deep down, if she was being honest with herself, she kind of loved it. Especially when Sam bent down to kiss her, then started the rhythm all over again. Only this time, he really put his back into it.
The first climax took Viola by surprise, crashing into her like a tidal wave and pounding through her so thoroughly she almost forgot how to breathe. Even then, he didn’t relent.
And holy hell, but Freud was right about one thing: Sam really knew his way around the human body. And his endurance was legendary.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“When a love-relationship is at its height there is no room left for any interest in the environment; a pair of lovers are sufficient to themselves.” –Sigmund Freud
Sam woke up in waves, feeling his senses turn on one by one.
The first thing he felt was the weight of a body pressed against his side.
Next, his world expanded to include the sound of breathing, and the soft flutter of breath against his neck. Keeping his eyes closed for the moment, just in case, he tightened his arms around the soft bundle of warmth and inhaled deeply. Lavender soap, and something sweet. It was definitely her. But was this moment definitely real?
Please, God, he silently prayed. Let it be real.
Opening his eyes carefully—because the yellow light coming through the blinds seemed suddenly and god-awfully bright—he squinted down at the girl in his arms.
Viola was sleeping with her face squished against his bare shoulder, her mouth hanging slightly open. Her hair had dried into a bird’s nest of unruly curls. Every time she exhaled, she sounded like a tiny, female Darth Vader. She might have even been drooling a little.
Sam had never seen anything more beautiful.
Unable to help himself, he traced the side of her face with his free hand, burying his fingers in her curls. He’d never seen her hair this messy. Even when she’d been in a coma, the nurses had treated her like their own life-size Barbie Doll, brushing her hair and styling her curls to fall artfully across her pillow. He tried to run his fingers through them now, but the soft strands were tangled together as stubbornly as a web of thorns.
With a startlingly loud snort, Viola woke up.
“Ouch,” she whined, with an adorable, sleepy pout. “That hurts.”
“Sorry, baby,” Sam apologized, kissing the top of her head as he moved his hand to her neck. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“Mmm.” She snuggled closer and moved her hand from his chest toward his hip, where other things were waking up. “Now, you’re going to have to make it up to me.”
A long while later, now both fully awake and once again fully exhausted, they were lying on the floor when Viola’s stomach gave a loud growl.
“Oh my God,” Sam said, sitting up. “I can’t believe I still haven’t fed you!”
Viola laughed and rolled onto her back, no longer self-conscious about her scar since Sam had spent the last five or so hours convincing her to forget about it by lavishing attention on other, more important body parts.
“What am I, your pet goldfish? I can feed myself, Sam.”
“Still.” He leaned back against his mattress, which was several inches off the bed frame and missing all of its sheets by then. “I spent like an hour this morning making you this really huge, really impressive breakfast. And now it’s,” he looked over his shoulder at the nightstand, where the clock was hanging off one side by its cord. “Almost two o’ clock. It’s past breakfast time, and besides, we can’t eat eggs that have been sitting out for that long.”
“You made me eggs?” Smiling sassily, Viola made the ‘aww’ sound that girls made when something was adorable. “Like, from scratch?”
Wake for Me (Life or Death Series) Page 22
