I couldn’t help myself. He’d seemed to put himself in such a position that I just couldn’t stop myself trying to tease him. I knew I shouldn’t, but he really seemed to bring it out in me. I took that final step towards him until our bodies were almost touching and I leaned closer to him. I looked up into his eyes and turned my face as serious as I could.
“So,” I whispered, “what you’re trying to say is that this isn’t just a ploy to get me naked in your house. Am I right?”
Sam’s eyes widened, he bit his plump bottom lip again and had to look away. His cheeks turned a light rosy pink.
I grinned with pleasure and patted him on the chest to show him I was joking. “A hot shower sounds great, Sam,” I said. Then I kicked off my shoes, leaving them near his, moved around him and started heading up the stairs.
Sam didn’t make a move to follow me. He seemed almost frozen at the bottom of the stairs.
I turned back around, now just about at the landing of the two sectioned staircase, and held onto the banister as I leaned back down to call out to Sam. “Any chance you could lend me a spare towel,” I asked, talking to his back. “And I could also use a little help finding some clothes to wear while I wait for mine to dry.”
“Right,” I heard him mutter firmly to himself. Then he was moving again and climbing up the stairs behind me in haste.
When we reached the top, Sam ducked into the bedroom before me and went straight for a small chest of drawers next to his bed. He rummaged hastily through drawer after drawer as I looked around his room from the threshold of his door. The whole room had a cool, blue glow about it, probably due to the pale, sky blue color of the walls and the gloomy glare of the day creeping in through the window. Apart from the champagne collared chest of drawers Sam was looking through, there was only a matching night stand, a black-painted closet and a large, double bed with black and white covers that filled his room. There was absolutely no clutter except for a pair of shoes and jeans thrown randomly on the floor beside his bed and a couple of novels on his night stand.
“Wow,” I said, more to myself than to Sam. “Your room is so clean.”
Sam looked up at me from the mess he was creating by his chest of drawers and looked around the room at what I was taking in. “I guess you could say it’s clean, because I don’t own that much,” he said, now looking at me. “But in my opinion, I’m still a messy person.” He looked down at the small mess of clothes that had fallen out around his feet during his search and then back up at me. “See,” he said.
Then he went back to rummaging around in the drawer he was up to and after only a few moments more, he snatched out some clothes and held them up in the air. “Ah-huh,” he said, triumphantly. “Will these do?” In one hand, he held a black wife-beater singlet and in the other, a pair of navy track pants. I glanced at them, and could tell just by looking at them that they were going to be much too big for me. After all, Sam must have been at least over six foot three in height and his shoulder-width was easily one and a half times mine.
“As long as the pants have a tie to tighten them,” I said, looking at him with a small smile. “They should be just fine until my clothes are dry.”
His face brightened into a pleased smile and he shut the open drawer near him with his hip, then walked over to me and handed me the change of clothes.
“There’s one more thing though,” I said, refusing to let him pass me until I’d asked my question.
He stopped, tilted his head slightly to the side and looked at me, obviously completely unsure about what I was going to ask.
“Is there any chance,” I asked, a little nervously, “I could borrow some underwear?” Just before I’d finished my question, I’d watched as Sam’s face turned serious. I wasn’t exactly sure what he thought I might be asking him, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t what I actually wanted at that moment.
He looked so relieved when I’d finally asked him and gave me a cheery grin. “Boxers or briefs,” he said, as he walked casually back into the room and opened another drawer.
“Boxers,” I answered quickly and quietly. I was still embarrassed about the whole thing and wasn’t really sure how I felt about wearing someone else’s underwear, let alone Sam’s underwear. But, all I knew was that it had to be better than going commando underneath those baggy track pants. Now at least, if they happened to fall off at anytime, I wouldn’t be flashing my goodies to the world.
Sam pulled out a pair of grey and white boxers, closed the drawer and walked back over to me. “These are the tightest I have,” he said, with such an amused grin he made my cheeks hot in embarrassment. He handed them to me and I let him slip past me out the door towards the bathroom. He stopped at the bathroom entrance and I stepped close beside him.
His bathroom was full of sunny yellow, white and blue tiles and seemed much brighter than all the other rooms of the house. It had all the necessities, a shower, bath, toilet and basin, and yet still seemed to be quite a large, open space.
“Spare towels are in the cupboard on the right,” Sam said to me, then pointed to a cupboard beside the basin. Then he leaned nonchalantly against the edge of the doorway and crossed his arms across his chest. His soaking wet clothes stuck, tight and hard to his body as he looked at me with a curious smile on his lips.
When I caught sight of his smile, I couldn’t help but smirk back at him. “What,” I asked, as I tried to figure out what he was thinking.
“Oh nothing,” he began slowly. “I was just thinking about you being naked in my house.”
I opened my mouth in amused shock and went to hit him in the stomach with my spare hand. But, he was too quick for me and had dodged my hand, and began heading down the stairs before I could take another shot.
“I hope you don’t mind me using all the hot water,” I yelled after him. I ran to the edge of the stairs and leaned over the frame of the banister to look down at him. He had stopped on the landing and was looking up at me with a cheeky grin. “‘Cause I think you’re in need of a cold shower,” I said.
Seven: Here with Me
I hadn’t managed to use up all the hot water after all, even though I had tried. There just seemed to be an endless supply. I was now out of the shower and standing by the basin, dressed in Sam’s boxers and oversized black singlet. The track pants hadn’t come close to fitting, way too long and even with the tie as tight as it would go they still felt as though they would fall off. So, in the end, I’d given up on them and was hoping that I wasn’t risking my virginity by wearing only the little amount I was. Otherwise, I was pretty sure my mum would kill me.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My cheeks had turned rosy from the heat of the shower and my skin was warm with the colors of peaches and cream. I’d dried my hair as best as I could with my towel and then brushed it straight. My sapphire blue eyes seemed bright and my lips were pink from the heat of the shower. I looked down at how Sam’s clothes sat on me. The long singlet hung low over my chest and showed a little more cleavage then I would have liked. While, the boxers, on the other hand, reached just over halfway down my thighs and looked more like shorts than underwear. The only difficulty was that they kept slipping off my hip bones, threatening to fall off at some embarrassing moment.
I decided to search Sam’s cabinet for a safety pin or something of the like. Although the cabinet by the basin was almost completely empty except for necessities, I managed to find a lonely safety pin in a dark corner. I held the waistband of the boxers tight and clipped the pin securely in place. Looking up at my appearance once more, I sighed in defeat. This would have to do.
Picking up my wet clothes, I opened the bathroom door and tip-toed down the stairs. A delicious smell hit my nose just as I reached the landing. It was sugary sweet and smelt like doughy batter, reminding me of early morning breakfasts with Mum in New York. I headed quickly down the last flight of stairs and stopped dead at the bottom. Sam was standing with his back to me, in the kitchen, cooking pancakes.
&
nbsp; He was no longer wearing his wet, white singlet and was completely naked from his hips up, which made it very hard for me not to stare at the tight, muscled skin of his back. I felt my mouth hanging open in awe and had to physically shake myself out of it.
“Ahhmm,” I coughed, annoyed at my body’s reaction to him.
Sam turned to face me with a huge grin.
“You cook,” I said, completely unaware, at the moment I said it, of how stupid it sounded.
Sam’s grin widened at my distracted stare. “Yep,” he said, happily. “I hope you like pancakes.” He turned back around and attacked a freshly poured pancake with an egg flip. “The track pants didn’t fit,” he said.
I pulled my arms closer to me a little protectively and watched him flip the pancake over into the pan. “No,” I said, shyly.
“Did you want to try something else,” he asked, sounding a little serious.
I looked down at his clothes on my body and then back up at him. There seemed to be no need to feel embarrassed. Even though I was feeling pretty naked in what I was wearing, I seemed to be comfortable around Sam. He just seemed to radiate such a feeling of safety, of protection and of acceptance that I felt I probably could have been naked in front of him and still have been happy to remain that way.
I relaxed my arms and took a step into the kitchen towards him. “No,” I said. “This is fine.”
“Okay,” he said, turning around to smile at me. “Now, are you a short or tall stack girl?”
“Short,” I said with a grin.
Sam mirrored my look and turned around to flip the last pancake on top of a small pile already on a large plate. He switched off the stove, then carried the pan over to the sink, poured some tap water into it, and then left it in the sink to sit. He turned back to me, resting his hands on the bench top and looked me up and down. I could see by the light in his eyes that he liked the look of his clothes on me. I couldn’t help but smirk at the calculating look he was giving me. He seemed to be devouring me with his eyes. As I took a step towards him he seemed to snap out of it and gave me a pleasantly embarrassed smile.
“The plate on the left is yours,” he said, “and don’t forget to help yourself to your favorite vice while you’re at it. I have a terrible weakness for golden syrup and raspberries.”
At first I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, and my mind was off, wondering about things naughtier than pancake toppings. Then I noticed the counter top. I’d been so distracted by Sam and his naked chest that I hadn’t even noticed the amount of crazy food he’d arranged by the empty mixing bowl. There were punnets of strawberries, blueberries and raspberries, four types of dessert syrups, chocolate chips and flakes, and a tub of vanilla ice-cream. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Was he trying to get me fat?
“What,” he asked, shrugging his shoulders. “I was dead for almost fifty years. Food is a total luxury for me.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, looking back at the countertop, “I can see that.”
“Just shut up and eat,” he told me in playful annoyance. He pushed himself up from where he was leaning and walked over to me with hands outstretched. “Give me those clothes and I’ll stick them in the dryer,” he said. “And sit in the lounge room near the fire. It’s much warmer in there.”
I raised an eyebrow at his instructions, but handed him my wet clothes without complaint. “Yes, Mother,” I said, under my breath as he walked passed me.
Suddenly, I felt a light slap on my bum and I spun around to glare at him. Sam grinned and winked at me, then continued walking over to a small door at the corner of the kitchen. I decided to leave him playing housewife and turned my attention back to the scrumptious food laid out in front of me. I grabbed the smaller plate of pancakes and started pouring a lavish amount of maple syrup over them, until I was certain that I had drowned them all. Then, I took a small handful of chocolate chips and blueberries and threw them on top. By the time I turned around, I could hear the dryer spinning and Sam was heading back inside the kitchen through the small door.
“So,” I began, “you’re a man who cooks, does his own washing and keeps his house clean—are you sure you weren’t a proper little housewife in your past life?”
He gave me an amused glare and then walked up close to me, until only my plate of pancakes was between us. He leaned in close, looking deep into my eyes and licked his lips. “No,” he almost whispered. “I was a soldier.”
In an instant, a knife and fork appeared in front of me, so close to my face that it made my head jerk back in fright. Sam, overly amused at my reaction, waved them around until I lifted my hand up and snatched them from him. He smiled smugly at me. “Now, get in the lounge room and eat,” he said, feigning military orders.
“Yes, sir,” I said and raised the knife and fork to my head in salute. I turned and headed for the lounge room, but just as I reached the threshold, I wiggled my bum in a teasing fashion and poked my tongue out over my shoulder at him. Sam raised an eyebrow at me, from where he stood with his arms crossed across his chest, then suddenly moved from that position, snatched up a blueberry and threw it at me. I was in the safety of the room and sitting on the sofa in a flash.
I had nibbled away at a good portion of my pancakes before Sam came to join me. He rounded the black leather sofa with his plate piled high and stopped, just before he sat down, to look at me. He gave me a helpless smile and shook his head. I looked down at myself. I was sitting cross legged on the sofa with my plate balancing on the top of a dark brown cushion. I couldn’t see the problem.
“What,” I asked between mouthfuls.
He sat down on the sofa close to me and looked away, shaking his head. His smile was almost one of disbelief. I sat up a little straighter and turned my body a bit to face him better. I was waiting for an answer.
Sam looked up at me with a satisfied smile. “You’re on my sofa,” he said finally.
“Yes,” I said, looking around at myself again. “Is that a bad thing?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No,” he said, still grinning.
“Then I don’t get it,” I said, feeling totally out of the loop.
“It’s just,” he began again. “You’re on my sofa.”
I looked at him again, beginning to feel a little worried for his sanity. Yes, I was on his sofa. We’d established that and we’d established that it wasn’t a bad thing. So I still had no idea what he was talking about.
Sam gave me a serious smile. His violet eyes were dark, but reflected the glow of the fire as he looked at me. “You, Kitty Bloom, are on my sofa,” he said.
I still didn’t get it.
“You’re in my house, on my sofa,” he continued. “You used my shower, saw my bedroom, are wearing my clothes and I cooked pancakes for you.”
“Yes,” I said again, still completely confused. “That sounds about right.”
Sam laughed to himself and looked away from me to the fire. “I just can’t believe it’s real,” he said. “I’ve wanted you with me, really with me, since the day I was given a second life.” His eyes met mine again and he seemed so sad, but yet so happy. “And you’re here,” he said. “You’re actually here with me.”
The intense look in his eyes made my insides ache and I had to look away. I speared another piece of pancake with my fork, lifted it to my mouth and chewed silently. I could still feel Sam looking at me, but I was afraid that if I looked back at him right at that moment I’d cry.
“Are they any good,” Sam asked after a few moments.
“What,” I choked, still trying to get my mind off what he’d said.
“The pancakes,” Sam said. “Are they to your liking?”
I managed to look up at him with a brief smile. He was smiling apologetically at me in return.
“Best I’ve ever had,” I said.
Sam’s smile widened at my answer and I couldn’t help but grin back at his gorgeous baby boy features. He had such a sweet innocent looking face. It was only his eyes t
hat held all his past heartbreak and pain, and which gave away his true age.
Carefully and unable to stop myself, I placed my fork on my almost empty plate of pancakes and I reached over to Sam with my left hand. I put the palm of my hand on his cheek as he looked at me with surprise. I gazed at his damp, shaggy mane of golden hair, his firm, rounded jaw, his straight button nose and his full, kissable lips. Then, I looked into his eyes, his deeply pained, unnaturally violet eyes. And I kissed him.
It was a brief kiss, a mere touching of lips, but in it I tried to tell him that I understood his pain, that I understood his worry for me and how much he cared. I tried to show him that I cared, that he wasn’t alone and that I was here with him, on his sofa, in his house, in his clothes.
I leaned away from him, dropped my hand from his face and licked my lips. He looked at me with shocked, sad and understanding eyes. And I had to look away. I picked up my unfinished plate, placed the pillow back on the sofa, and stood up and left the room.
In the kitchen, I wondered what was wrong with me. I couldn’t believe I’d kissed Sam, let alone left him alone in the lounge room to deal with it by himself. But, I just couldn’t seem to handle it. I felt torn inside. Like I wanted to go one way, but my body wanted me to go another. I felt like I needed to escape, to run away from here. Deep down I knew what it was. As Cantrelle had said, my natural instinct, the instinct born of Lilith’s blood was beginning to respond to anything good around me, telling me to run for the hills when anything like that was close by. An angel, I was sure, was probably the last thing my body wanted me to be around at this moment. But, it was Sam and I—wanted to stay with him. Besides, my only other choice for company seemed to be Max and I wasn’t keen on ever seeing him again.
I heard footsteps coming into the kitchen behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I continued to look down at where I’d placed my plate on the countertop.
“Kitty,” I heard Sam say quietly behind me.
Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel) Page 7
