by Frankie Love
“Wow,” he says, walking in my condo with a dozen pink roses wrapped in brown paper, tied with a white grosgrain ribbon. Basically, the most perfect bouquet ever made. “You look beautiful, Ava Grace.”
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I hide a smile, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
“You clean up pretty nice yourself.” I take the proffered flowers from his hands, drinking him in as I do. He is in dark denim and a flannel shirt, but it’s slim fitting, tight on his biceps, and rolled up at the sleeves. He looks freakin', insanely hot. His hair is slicked back effortlessly, and his beard taunts me, -making my ovaries explode as I imagine it between my legs like it was before.
Like I have dreamed about so many times since.
“I made reservations,” he tells me as I fill the vase with water, adding the roses.
“Oh yeah? Where? I’m starving.”
He smiles at that, and then answers. “An Italian restaurant, Little Mia Mia, I hear it’s fantastic.”
“Ohh, that’s my favorite restaurant. You’re going to love it. Do you like meatballs? They have the best meatballs ever.”
He grins, as if unable to resist joking like a thirteen-year-old boy. “You like balls, huh?”
I smirk, grabbing my jacket, gloves, and purse. Samson follows me to the door and I lock it behind us. “Oh, I love balls, Samson. Big, juicy balls.”
He laughs, deep in his belly, and opens the door of the rental car. “Good, because you can have as many balls as you like, sweetheart.”
I squint my eyes, looking at him before he closes the door. Sweetheart? “If I remember correctly, you only have two. What if I want more?”
He laughs again, “Guess you’ll have to order some extra off the menu to take home.”
On the drive to the restaurant, I point out my stomping grounds. “That shop has the best coffee, and this park is where I play Ultimate Frisbee in the summer. Though I’m terrible at it. But it’s still fun. Oh, and that is where the farmers market is on Sundays.”
“You really like it here, then? Could you ever imagine leaving?”
We pull up to Little Mia Mia and let the valet take the car. Sitting down at the table—a corner booth, white linens, candlelight—I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I’m not nervous or trying hard to be something Samson will deem attractive or worthy.
With him, I feel like I can be myself, so I bask in the romantic ambiance of the restaurant, and tell Samson I’m ordering for us both
Then I answer his question. “I love Denver, I grew up here and moved back after college, but I’m not sold on the idea of being here forever. I guess I’m open to anything and thankfully my business is portable. I can make jewelry anywhere in the world.”
“So why don’t you do that?” he asks. “Why not set up shop in Paris or Peru?”
A waiter comes around and I order our dinner: spaghetti and meatballs, of course, and a bottle of red wine.
“I traveled growing up, and in college I did a few semesters abroad. But the truth is, I’m not chasing a dream. I already have it. A business I love, that brings joy to every customer. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for more.”
“Nothing more?”
I sigh, “Well I’d love to be married, have children, but after everything that happened over the last few weeks, I’ve learned more about what I really want, what I want to embrace.”
“And what’s that?” Samson’s elbows are on the table, leaning in as if my words are precious and must be heard.
“I want to learn to just let it be. Let the cards fall as they may and not try to force my life down a certain path. Let it be.”
“Let It Be, like the Beatles song?”
I nod, remembering Heart of Gold, imagining his mother washing the dishes or folding the clothes and repeating the words of the song, words that meant so much to him.
Samson runs his hands over his beard as if considering saying something. But then the spaghetti is served and the mood changes.
“These are some big balls,” he says, grinning.
“Yep. Some of the biggest.” I take a sip of the Merlot, savoring this unexpected evening with Samson. “So, tell me about you. You know where I live, what I do, my family, my life plans. What about yours?”
He chooses that moment to take a bite of pasta, and his eyes don’t meet mine. Awesome, so we are back to square one. I’m on another date with a man who is not intending to open up to me at all.
But then he uses his napkin to wipe his mouth, and he clears his throat and looks me in the eye. “It’s really fucking hard to talk about myself, so be patient, Ava Grace.”
I twist my lips, wanting to defend myself, but then he continues talking and I stop and just try to listen.
“You know Taylor and I lost our parents when we were young, right?”
I nod, not knowing the all the details, but knowing Taylor was only seven years old, and that they spent their childhood being shuffled around to distant relatives, and eventually ended up in foster care for a few years.
“Well, I blame myself for a lot of what happened. They died in a car crash, but it was because they were coming to pick me up from school. I had gotten in trouble, was suspended—again. It was junior high and I was an asshole. But my dad, he left work, got my mom, and the two of them were headed to the school to take care of the mess I’d made. On the way, there they hit some ice and died.” Samson tightens his jaw, his shoulders tense.
I blink back the tears and reach across the table to Samson’s hand. He takes mine in his, his skin softer than I expected, his grip tight as if he needs to hold onto something right now. Hold on to me.
“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve never told anyone that. I’ve blamed myself for years, thinking that if I’d had my shit together, I never would have ruined my family. For a long time, I was on the straight and narrow. Doing my best to take care of myself and Taylor, but once he was eighteen, I let loose again. Let myself get in trouble one too many times, and that’s why I left. I skipped town needing to clear my head, you know?”
“Samson, it wasn’t your fault they died; it was an accident.” I run my fingers over his thumb, my heart aching for him, understanding him better now that he’s shared this part of himself. “And after so many years of taking care of Taylor, still a young man yourself, of course, you let loose for a while, you never had a real chance to sow your wild oats.”
“Even if I know that logically, it’s still hard to believe. Especially now with Taylor getting married. Hell, my mom would have loved to meet Sophia; to be here for all this.”
“That makes sense. I bet different times of the year, in general, are more difficult than others.”
Samson nods. “The holidays are always a shitty time for me. I retreat every chance I get.”
“Do you think you’ll always be this way? Need to be alone in the mountains to stay grounded?” I tear off a piece of bread, watching Samson contemplate my question.
“I hope not, Ava Grace. I don’t always want to be alone.” When he looks at me now, it’s as if he’s speaking directly to my soul. It’s like he sees me, is echoing everything inside of me.
“What do you want then, Samson?” I ask.
“I want a wife, a family. But I’ve always been my own worst enemy. I always push people away because what if I let someone in, really in, and then I fuck it up and ruin things. Ruin them?” Samson is choking up; his eyes fill with tears. “That’s what happened with my parents. I fucked things up and they paid for it.”
I wipe away the tears on my cheek, shaking my head. “No, Samson. That’s not the way it works. Your past doesn’t define you, good or bad. Who you are right now, the man you choose to be today—that is what matters.”
He looks at me, blinking back his tears. “I want to be a good man, a man who doesn’t run when he is scared.”
“Then don’t. Be a man who stays.”
He takes hold of my hand again. The spaghetti’s cold, the wine warm in
our bellies, the heat between us growing.
“Let’s get out of here,” he tells me.
He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I want to follow wherever Samson leads.
Chapter Fourteen
I lead Ava Grace from the restaurant, knowing where I’m taking her. The valet pulls our car around and I drive her to the second half of our date. Pulling into the empty parking lot, I park the car.
“Samson,” she says, reaching for my arm. “Are we ice skating?”
I consider, right then and there, telling her the full truth, nothing but the truth, but I don’t want to spoil this perfect night. It’s already been so damn heavy, so damn hard. I opened to Ava Grace like I’ve never opened to anyone in my life.
And right now, her eyes are bright, her smile wide. I’m taking this girl skating.
Besides, I can’t bear to tell her who I really am and have her walk away on the heels of my admission over dinner. Right now, I want to hold on to the energy pulsing between us. She heard me explain my biggest fear, deepest regret, and instead of walking out, she held my hand. She saw my heart.
I’m not the one with the heart of gold. Ava Grace is.
“You think you can beat me around the rink?” I ask, her hand slipping in mine as we walk to the entrance.
“Oh, I know I can,” she says, laughing. “I’m not very good, but somehow when I lace up a pair of skates, I feel limitless.”
“You can’t beat a feeling like that.”
We walk into the lobby, it’s empty, there is only one person in the entire place.
“What size?” the man at the counter asks. The open skate hours are taped to the counter.
“Eight,” she tells him, then looks at me. “Where is everyone?”
I shrug. “I made a few calls.”
“But it’s an open skate night.”
“I rented the place for us.”
“Samson.” She opens her mouth as if ready to argue. “That’s crazy sweet of you.”
“You deserve crazy sweet.”
She just laughs and shakes her head. “What happened to the asshole I met at the engagement party? It’s like something happened to you and you became some romantic sap.”
My chest tightens. I’m nervous as fuck to tell her the truth, but before the night is over, I’ll tell her everything.
“A lot can change in a few months.”
A few minutes later Ava and I are on the empty ice rink. The only lights in the massive rink are the ones on the ice, and as we skate—me much more awkwardly than her —we are quiet. My hand finds hers, and she laces her fingers with mine. Every time her body brushes against mine, I make note of her vanilla shampoo scent and twinkling laugh. Each time I stumble, she helps steady me.
We glide, hand in hand, and listen to the music overhead, a mix of cheesy eighties hits, and… and I feel like I could spend the rest of my life with a woman like her. She makes me feel good in my own skin and I’ve never met a person who made me feel that way.
I’m so lost in thought about how I have fallen for this woman—head over heels—that I literally do. I fall over her. We crash to the ground, she falls on the ice, I land on my ass, she laughs as she winces and I groan as I reach to help her up. Every time I try to stand, I fall back down, and then she collapses on top of me.
The air is cold, our breath hot. She’s across my lap, and I pull her to me, her ass in my hands, her lips on my mouth. I’m sitting on ice, but this woman melts everything inside of me. Everything that has been cold and reserved and held back... is thawed.
The kiss is better than I remembered. Maybe when I kissed her last, it was all hot and heavy, the thrill of the chase and the high of our instant connection.
This time the kiss is different. This time I have gotten to know Ava Grace in a way I’ve never known another soul. And she knows me too, even if she doesn’t realize it herself.
Our lips part, her tongue finds mine, and I refuse to let her go.
“I need you, Ava Grace. I need you now,” I tell her.
She stands, offering me her hand, and I take it. We glide off the ice, and she throws me a look over her shoulder, letting me know she needs it just as bad, before leading me to a locker room.
“The ambiance is a bit different than Little Mia Mia,” she says, looking around as she unbuttons her coat, tossing it on the floor without a second thought. The fluorescent lights are bright but the music fills the room, echoing. But I don’t care where I am in this moment, so long as it’s with her. “It’s cold in here, too,” she says, looking at her nipples, hard through her clothes.
“I’ll warm you up, sweetheart,” I tell her, kissing her neck.
“I bet you will,” she murmurs, her fingers threading through my hair as she wraps herself around me. I kiss her again, this time with more heat, passion, and desire. I need her and I can’t wait any longer.
We undress as if we have no time to lose. And maybe we don’t, maybe at some point when you know it’s right, you can’t waste another second. Doing so would be a betrayal of what is true, what is good. What is ours.
She runs her hands over my bare chest as I pull off her dress. My mouth is on her breasts, pushing down the lace of her bra, licking her nipples and tasting her skin.
“Samson, I want to touch you. I need to touch you. I’ve been dreaming of you for so many nights... Hoping and wishing you to come back.”
Her words are like honey, sweet and pure and I feel like the luckiest bastard to know that they are her truth. She unbuckles my belt and my pants fall to the floor. She reaches her hand around my growing cock and I groan, having longed for this moment since the day I left her apartment.
“You’re so hard,” she says, her mouth on my chest, kissing my skin as if she is as desperate for me as I am for her.
“And you haven’t even touched my meatballs.”
She laughs, the laugh that is bright and beautiful. And then she cups my balls softly, tenderly. She strokes my shaft as if it is a genie’s lamp offering her three wishes.
Oh, I’ll fulfill her wishes all right. Her deepest desires and all her fantasies. If only she’ll let me. Now and forever. I will make her wish come true.
“Samson,” she moans as my fingers push aside the fabric of her panties, finding her wet pussy and pressing against her clit.
“You like that, sweetheart? You like it when I touch you?” I ask. I cup a hand on her cheek; drawing her lips to mine again and I kiss her as if overcome with a fever. Delirious with desire. I inhale her scent, our bodies hot, the ice from minutes ago seeming so far away.
I lift her, hands gripping her ass, her legs wrapping around my hips instinctively. Her arms around my neck, her tongue is in my ear —she envelops me. She covers me and I want to fill her, too.
I press her against a wall, the lights in the locker room buzzing and bright, electric just like we are.
“I want to feel you in me,” she whispers in my ear, nibbling at my lobe.
“Good, because that’s all I want,” I tell her, letting her body open up to me. Her pussy stretching as my cock fills up her tight little cunt. She inhales sharply as I take her. She’s so warm and with her body pressed against mine, she’s uninhibited and open and willing.
And so fucking hot.
Her tits are against my chest and her pussy is creamy and ready. She makes me so damn hard and all I want to do is to ram inside of her until she can’t think of anything besides my cock. My cock that was made for her sweet, sweet pussy.
My cock is in her, thrusting deep inside of her as she takes all of me. Her body was made for mine and so I let her know how hot she gets me. I rock inside of her, her pussy walls tightening against my length and she moans in pleasure as she grinds on top of my cock. Her tits bounce in my face as I move inside of her, harder and harder until she is screaming my name.
Her head falls back, the length of her neck such a fucking turn on, her tits so perky and her nipples so hard. I pound into her, wanting her now and wanti
ng her forever.
“Oh God,” she moans, her fingernails pressing into my shoulder blades. “Yes, yes, Samson, that feels—”
And then she can’t speak, she can only moan, whimpering my name as I fill her with my come. As an orgasm rushes over her like a wave she wasn’t expecting. Her arms hold tight around my neck, clinging to me, and my hands hold her round ass, rocking against her.
“Holy shit, I didn’t know I could orgasm like that,” she purrs once we both finish, our bodies sweaty and hot and I want to wash her up good and clean, and then spread her legs, and lick her cunt like I did before.
I have so many dreams for us. I want to worship her body and show her my mountain and I want to watch her peak as she fucks me every damn day.
I love the fact that I get her so wet and get her off, and I kiss her again, this time soft and tender. This time, I kiss her mouth and then her cheeks and her chin. I kiss her nose and her forehead and her ears.
“What was that for?” she asks, catching her breath as I set her back on the ground.
“You have melted this cold, hard mountain man,” I tell her.
She shakes her head, laughing again, and the two of us dress quickly. Once assembled, with the rush of emotions still surging between us, I take her hands and pull her to me.
“I have to tell you something,” I say.
“What? Another joke about your balls?”
I shake my head, taking a deep breath, searching for the courage and strength to tell her what must be said. To tell her what I know might change everything.
“What is it?” Her face falls as if already preparing herself for the worst.
I wish I could do everything over again, wishing I had found another way into Ava Grace’s heart.
“I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you, Ava Grace. I only wanted to understand you. I wanted to see if we could be something more than a one-night stand. When I left your place after the engagement party, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. But I also knew how you’d been hurt before, and how bad I was at letting people in. I didn’t know if I could do it. So, I tried something different. Something I’ve never done before.”
