by A. C. Arthur
“Then how do you know that’s what she’s thinking?”
“Because that’s just like her. All my life she’s taken care of him, ironing his clothes, picking out his ties, going to all the business functions on his arm as if she’s some sort of decoration instead of his wife.”
“Like his partner. A wife is a husband’s partner.”
“She’s still a woman. She should still be her own woman,” she said adamantly.
“And she can be, but you can’t dictate what or who that woman will be. Some women are content being just a wife or a wife and a mother. It doesn’t make them any less than a woman who goes to the office every day and brings home a six-figure salary.”
She shifted, looked back and up at him. “What are you, some type of therapist?”
Sam laughed. “No. I’m just a guy on the outside looking in. And I’m thinking that maybe you’re a little too hard on your mother and in turn on yourself.”
“I am not,” she said defensively, turning her face away from his.
He touched a finger to her chin, moving her face so that she could look at him once more. “You are and it’s making you miserable.”
“I am not miserable,” she said with a slight pout.
She was. On the inside she was suffering because of what she thought her mother’s supreme sacrifice was, for what she swore she would not become. In this one night her entire life’s dilemma had been laid out for him, and true to his nature Sam felt the overwhelming desire to fix it. To make everything better for her.
But for right now, he knew he wouldn’t accomplish that by continuing with this conversation. As they’d lain here she was already beginning to pull away, her body stiffening beneath his gaze and his words.
Only one thing could relax her, could bring her back to the place where he wanted her to be.
With that thought Sam kissed her, brushing his lips over hers lightly as his body shifted until he was on top of her.
“You’re a terrific woman, Karena,” he whispered between kisses, between swipes of his tongue over her lips. “A beautiful, vibrant woman who’s smart and successful.”
She was loosening beneath him, her palms going to his chest, her mouth opening to his wordless command.
“You’d be a great wife, a great complement to the right man.” To him, his mind roared but smartly remained quiet.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head but snaking her own tongue out to touch the tip of his. “I don’t want to complement a man. I want to live my own life, on my own terms.”
With deft precision Sam let his tongue duel with hers, their eyes remaining fixated on each other as they touched. Dipping his head he deepened the connection, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth, pressing her head farther into the pillow.
She sighed and moaned into the kiss, giving him exactly what he wanted. What he sensed was all she thought she could give. If she only knew, Sam thought, with a moan of his own.
It was her turn, Karena realized, and she stretched an arm to his nightstand where he’d wisely left a stack of condoms. She ripped one open and rolled it onto his length, loving the feel of his arousal growing harder, warmer beneath her touch.
Then with his knees he spread her thighs, let his aching erection seek and find the wet warmth it was searching for. When his thick tip touched her entrance, she gasped. He sucked her tongue, pulling it deep into his mouth as his arousal slipped slowly, deeply, inside her sugared walls.
In that instant Karena felt something within her snap. Nothing painful or harmful, but an opening, a breaking through of sorts, speared by this man’s dominant entrance into her physically and, unfortunately, emotionally.
He moved over her with a painful slowness, his erection stretching her, opening her, molding her perfectly around him. He lifted her legs, planted the soles of her feet on his chest and pumped inside her deeply, slowly. As if he had all the time in the world to stroke her.
Her eyelids felt heavy with the haze of lust and something not so easily described hovering throughout the room. As the thick slashes of sunlight slipped through the miniblinds at the window, falling over Sam’s bronzed naked body and giving him an ethereal look—like a Greek god—Karena felt the first ebbings of fear.
Not the kind that said he would hurt her, use her, leave her. But the kind that told her that inevitably she would do those things to him.
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut the truth out of her mind, to concentrate solely on the delicious feel of him. He lifted one leg, held it away from them so that she probably looked like a member of the Olympic gymnastics team with her limbs spread in weird contortions. But the act gave him a different angle, let him sink his erection into her seemingly deeper. Her center oozed with desire, coating them both, the sound echoing, mixing with her slow moans and his guttural groans.
He pulled her leg back to his chest, stroked his tongue over the sole of her foot, stopping to take one toe into his mouth for a French kiss unlike any she’d experienced before.
Karena’s body shook uncontrollably. What was he doing to her?
Again Sam shifted until he was sitting in the center of the bed, pulling her on top of him and wrapping her legs around his waist. Their chests were entwined, his thick length sliding upward into her waiting center. He pulled her down on his length slowly, keeping his eyes fixated on hers as he did.
Karena was lost. For now. For this moment, she was simply lost. All inhibitions, arguments, defenses, were gone. As he’d said over and over again throughout the night, it was just him and her.
And for now, for this moment, she would take that. She would take him, she thought, lifting slightly then settling down on his thickness with a contented sigh.
He hugged her to him tightly, almost too tightly, but she didn’t mind. She let her forehead fall to his shoulders as their centers thrust and gyrated together. It was so sweet, too torturously good to stop, but she knew she was growing closer.
And as Sam continued those lethal thrusts of his hips, pushing his thickness deeper into her, she let out a tortured moan then found herself biting the taut skin of his shoulder as if she was some bloodthirsty vampire. She moaned, her eyes closing as the sweetest, most intense orgasm ripped through her.
Sam followed immediately, holding her bottom so that his member was glued inside her, his orgasm ripping from him to mingle with her own. He closed his eyes and whispered her name, over and over again as his feelings, emotions, trickled out with his essence, entering her, touching her, whether she wanted them to or not.
Chapter 14
“Um, um, um, you look great in my kitchen,” Sam said the moment he walked into the room after taking Romeo for his morning walk.
Karena was at the stove flicking her wrist as she scrambled perfectly fluffy yellow eggs in the skillet. At the sound of his voice she’d jumped only slightly. Inside, however, her defenses were rising.
He was already behind her before she could speak, wrapping his arms around her waist and cuddling to her back. Romeo barked and she looked down at him, patted him on the head then yanked her free hand back.
This was too comfortable, seemed too normal.
She picked up the skillet and moved out of Sam’s grasp. “Hungry?” she asked, not looking directly at him.
After he’d left her this morning she’d had time to think. Last night had been good…too good. For a minute she’d believed that she could just fall in love with Sam Desdune. As easily as she’d drifted off to sleep in his arms, she figured she could accomplish that task.
But then what?
What would he expect of her once she admitted he owned her heart? He’d want to own the rest of her, no doubt.
“Starving,” he said cheerfully, and she could hear him moving behind her to the large dark oak table sitting in the middle of his spacious kitchen.
She’d already cooked bacon and waffles and was now fixing them both a plate. Plates in hand, she turned and carried them to the table, setting one i
n front of Sam and the other in front of the high-backed stool for herself.
“You should have gone out walking with us. It’s beautiful in the morning. The air’s so crisp and refreshing.”
Karena nodded. Of course the air here would be perfect, just like the man and the dog that barely had to lift its head to sniff at the food sitting on the counter. Sam gave Romeo a warning glance, and the dog’s large head fell downward a few inches. Feeling sorry for him, Karena rubbed Romeo behind the ears before taking her seat.
“I figured I’d cook breakfast to return the favor of your cooking dinner last night.”
Sam nodded and reached for her hand.
She was instantly pulling back.
“Let’s bless our food then we can eat,” he said easily, his dark brown eyes holding her gaze.
Last night he’d blessed their food before they’d eaten, and she’d bowed her head and joined him. At the restaurant, she remembered, he’d done the same. This morning, after their night of lovemaking, was the first time he’d reached for her hand to do so.
Another warning bell sounded in her head, but she felt herself surrendering her hand to his grasp.
He prayed almost like a preacher and her entire body warmed, not with desire but with a calmness that bordered on complete serenity.
This was insane! He was just a man and they were just having sex. She wasn’t falling in love. She couldn’t.
“Amen,” she heard herself saying, and she almost frowned when Sam released her hand before she could pull away.
Clearing her throat, she decided to keep things as normal and casual as she could. “So what’s on your agenda for the day? Do you have to work?”
He shook his head. “No. Bree faxed me some copies of Leandro’s artwork because I wanted to get a look at more of the guy’s pieces. So far I don’t know who the guy you met with was, but we’re trying to track him down based on your description.”
She nodded. “We’ll probably never find him. And I really don’t care. I just want to get the paintings back to their rightful owners.”
“Where is it now?”
“In our warehouse. I didn’t want it on the gallery floor if it isn’t legally ours.”
“Good idea. We’ll find this guy because he owes you money. You paid him well for the portrait, and if it wasn't his to sell then he’ll answer for it.”
“I just should have known better,” she said, looking down at her food. Her father had said as much, and while Monica hadn’t echoed his words, Karena knew her always-perfect, ever-efficient sister was thinking it.
“There was no way you could have known. The sad thing is that the guy has probably done this before.” With a look of resignation, Sam lifted a piece of bacon from his plate, lowered his arm from the table and let Romeo have a slice.
Again Karena’s heart melted for this man. Why couldn’t she let herself love him? Why couldn’t she just ignore those warning bells and take the plunge?
“You look really good here, Karena. In my house, in my kitchen, you look like you belong,” he said, eyeing her seriously, and the breath froze in her lungs.
The answer to her questions had been made so painfully clear in those two sentences.
She cleared her throat. “I belong in Manhattan. That’s where I live. It’s where my job is.”
Sam forked eggs into his mouth and chewed. She tried not to notice the strength in his shoulders as the T-shirt he wore did nothing to hide his great physique. It took even more effort not to watch his mouth as he chewed or notice that his glare was serious, intense and unwavering.
“My job is twenty miles away but I belong here.”
He sounded so sure of himself, always. Decisions, goals, achievements, all those things probably came easily to Sam Desdune. But not to her.
“My family’s in the city.”
“So is mine.”
Her fork fell to her plate with a clatter that had Romeo jumping then moving noisily out of the room. “I’m where I want to be.”
His left brow lifted. “Today? Right at this moment? Physically or mentally?”
“Don’t do this,” she said, shaking her head.
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t make this more than it has to be.”
“You mean don’t make it about feelings, just keep it about sex.”
Folding her hands in her lap, Karena sat back in her chair and stared at him with the same intensity as he was giving her. Two could play this game. “Yes, let’s just keep it about sex.”
He was already shaking his head negatively. “That’s not what I do.”
“That’s not my problem.”
He chuckled, lifted his napkin to his lips and wiped his mouth. “No. It’s not. But I do know what your problem is.”
“Oh, please enlighten me,” she said sarcastically.
“You’re afraid.”
“Wrong. I’m not afraid of anything.” The words tasted dishonest in her mouth.
“I’ve said this before, don’t make me say it again. We’re both too intelligent to try lying.”
She wanted to pick up her plate, slam it into the sink and leave his arrogant, sexy ass sitting in the kitchen alone, but she didn’t. “Just because I don’t want flowery words and bull-crap declarations doesn’t make me afraid. It makes me smart enough to know my limitations.”
“Limitations you’ve placed on yourself?”
“Whatever the reason or the origin, they are my limitations and I live by them.”
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on steepled hands. “When I first met you in Noelle and Brock’s kitchen, I distinctly remember thinking, ‘Damn, this woman’s got her act together. She’s beautiful, successful, intelligent, funny, the total package.’ Never once did I figure you for the type to let someone else’s choices dictate your life.”
Her heart pounded, her cheeks warmed. His words hurt, touched and inflamed all at once. How did he do that? How did he make her so angry she could smack him one minute then have her melting like putty in his hands the next, and vice versa? She had no idea, but her head was beginning to hurt. This wasn’t how the morning was supposed to turn out.
“Look,” she said, finally giving in to the urge to run by standing and pushing the chair out behind her. “I came here this weekend to get away from the stress of work. I didn’t sign up for more issues.”
He didn’t respond, simply sat back in his chair and stared at her. The silence was just as unnerving as his self-assured declarations. She didn’t know what to do with either.
“I’m not going to lie, sex between us is good,” she started again then picked up her plate and moved it to the sink. Turning, leaning her bottom against the counter, she folded her arms and continued, “But it’s just sex. That’s all I want it to be. My reasons are my own and I don’t need you analyzing them.”
He’d already begun nodding but she could tell by the set of his shoulders he was hardly in agreement with her. “Then what do you need me for? You’ve got your toys at home to bring you an orgasm. You don’t need me to give you advice, you don’t want me to analyze you or your immature limitations. So what do you need me for?”
The biting edge to his voice was more than she’d expected. However, it did what up until now she hadn’t been able to do on her own. It spurred enough anger that she could do what needed to be done. “This was a mistake,” she said simply then started out of the room.
He was up so fast she didn’t have time to think, grabbing her around her waist and pushing her back against the counter.
“Don’t even think it,” he whispered hoarsely, his face lowering closer to hers. “Don’t even give yourself that pitiful excuse. This wasn’t a mistake. Not you coming here, not us sleeping together, not you enjoying every minute of it. It was real. It is real and it’s more important than anything you’ve ever had to face in your life.”
She tried to squirm out of his hold. It was too much, the heat of his touc
h, the sting of his words, the betrayal of her heart over her mind.
“You don’t want to feel it, fine,” he breathed against her lips. “You want to try to ignore it, go right ahead.” He bit her bottom lip, licking over the spot when she’d jumped at the pain.
“But don’t try to tell me it was a mistake. I know exactly what it was and I know exactly what I feel.”
His tongue was warm and thick as it passed over her lips. She didn’t want to kiss him, didn’t want to open her mouth to the assault of sensations she knew it would bring.
“You feel lust,” she said finally.
“You’re damned right I do.” He groaned as he bent a little at the knees, matched his thick erection with the heated mound between her thighs and pushed. “You feel lust, too.”
He was pressing into her so she leaned back, trying to give herself breathing space, thinking room. Sam wasn’t trying to hear it.
“But you feel something else. You feel the emotions that are tangled up in the physical. The sensations that whirl around in your mind after I’ve kissed you. The ache that never seems to go away no matter how many times you come. I know that’s what you feel because I feel it, too.”
His lips covered hers as they both bent over the counter. “I feel it, too, Karena. And I want more. I need more.”
She opened her mouth to speak and lost the words as his tongue snaked inside, sliding along hers before enticing it out to play. This kiss was a desperate tangle of moans and desires. Her palms slammed against his chest as his went to her bottom, gripping her cheeks and pulling them closer together.
It was too much, all of it and just this part of it. Sam and this house and his dog. His words, his touch. The truth, the past, the confusion, everything was just too damned much and Karena wanted to scream.
Instead she tore her lips away from his and pushed him back roughly. He looked stunned, which she was herself since he was so much taller and broader than her.
“I don’t need more, Sam. That’s what you’re going to have to accept. I can do the sex thing and that’s fine. But anything else,” she said, trying to catch her breath, “it’s just not negotiable.”
