by Jami Alden
Then he stopped short of brushing the hard swollen peak that was begging for his touch. He repeated the process with his tongue, and Carla whimpered as she arched off the mattress, silently begging him to lick her, suck her like she needed.
But he was relentless, teasing first one, then the other breast with those almost but not quite there caresses that had her panting and straining at the ties that held her fast.
His mouth continued its torture as his hand skimmed down her belly. Her muscles tightened in anticipation, even though she feared she wasn't going to find relief any time soon.
And she was right. As with her breasts, his fingers tormented her, combing through the small patch of curls at the top of her mound, stroking her inner thighs, sliding along her smooth outer lips but despite the nearly frantic thrusts of her hips never delving inside where she really needed him.
“Please, Sam,” she said, her humiliation at begging not strong enough to keep her from doing it. “Please, I need you to touch me...” Her pleas ended on a groan as his mouth slid down her stomach. He bent his head between her legs and his tongue flicked out to taste the skin of her inner thigh. He lifted his mouth higher, and Carla thought she was finally going to get some relief. Frustrated tears pricked her eyes as she felt nothing but the whisper of Sam's breath over the throbbing but of her clit.
Still, she yearned closer, convinced that even a stronger puff of air would push her mercifully off the tightrope. “God, Sam, please, please, please,” she said almost frantically. “Please stop teasing me.”
“Tell me,” he said, his voice tight as he ignored her and pushed himself back up her body so his face was again level with hers, the thick length of his cock throbbing torturously against her belly. “When was the last time a man made you so hot you were begging for it? When was the last time you needed to be touched, to be fucked so bad you'd do practically anything for it?”
Her head thrashed against the pillows. “Never,” she said mindlessly, unable to keep the words from spilling out. “Never with anyone but you. You're the only one who makes me crazy like this―”
Her words broke off as his mouth covered hers, and this time there was no gentleness as his lips sucked greedily at hers and his tongue thrust in to tangle with hers. He pulled back, and in her daze she saw his hands moving in the candlelight.
The sound of foil ripping was like a miracle. Within seconds he covered himself and was kneeling between her legs, his hands cupping her ass as he lifted her off the bed to receive him.
She cried out as the thick head of his cock parted her and he entered her with one swift, merciless thrust. She came before he was even halfway inside, her body shaking and jerking against the restraint as her pussy milked his cock hard. Her mouth opened on a silent scream as he held her hips in a grip so tight it should have hurt, pounding into her as her orgasm washed over her in a relentless wave.
Sam cried out, arching above her with his head thrown back, his face tight with pleasure as he jackhammered into her, hard and fast and deeper than anything Carla had ever felt. Unbelievably, she felt herself responding again, her body tightening around him in response to the heavy thrust and drag of him moving inside her. She could see his stomach muscles clench, feel his body tighten as he approached his peak.
One hand released its grip on her hip to rest low on her stomach. He burrowed his thumb in her curls until it found her clit. “Come with me this time,” he panted, his thumb stroking firmly in rhythm with his thrusts as he cock seemed to grow even bigger, as his orgasm loomed.
She felt him throb and pulse heavily inside her. That, combined with the steady pressure of his thumb sent her hurtling over the edge a second time, crying and moaning, thrashing against the restraints as she came even harder than she had the first time.
He collapsed, half on top of her, his head buried against her breasts as his breath came hot and fast. Instinctively Carla tried to move her hand down to stroke his hair. The feel of the binding jerked her from her postcoital haze. “I think you've proven your point,” she said irritably. “You can untie me now.”
Sam pushed up on his elbows and gave her a heavy lidded smile that made her toes curl. “Oh, I haven't proven anything yet, not by a long shot.”
Carla wasn't sure what he meant by that, but since she was still tied up and he seemed disinclined to let her go, she was afraid it was going to be bad.
Which meant it was going to be really, really, good.
“Tonight I'm going to make you feel so good, you'll wonder how you ever lived without me. And you're going to see why you owe it to yourself to take this thing between us where it was always supposed to go.”
Before her brain could wrap around what he meant by that, all thought fled as Sam's mouth closed hotly over one nipple, drawing hard enough to make her feel the deep pull in the sated flesh between her thighs.
All throughout that night, Sam made good on his words, making her come countless times with his hands, lips, cock.
He whispered to her in the dark about how beautiful she was, how much he loved touching her, fucking her, the feel of her skin against hers. How he'd never felt like this with anyone else and he didn't want to be with anyone else ever again.
Carla fought back tears, the deep satisfaction wearing her down, crumbling her defenses until she wanted desperately to believe him. Finally he took the restraints off, and she whimpered at the sound of foil ripping once again.
Her body tightened in anticipation even though she was so well used she knew she'd have trouble walking for the next few days.
But she couldn't resist him as he slid inside her, gentle now, slow, as his own urgency had faded in the course of their earlier, wild couplings.
This time he sank in slow, held himself there as he urged her to wrap her arms and legs around him. “This is how I love it best,” he whispered with soft pecks of his lips on her mouth, cheeks, neck. “You wrapped around me, holding me tight. So deep inside you I feel like I could crawl up inside your skin and become a part of you.”
Carla felt a twisting sensation in her chest, like she was falling over a cliff, helpless to make it stop. Even knowing he was a master of manipulation, it was so hard to resist, impossible not to fall for him all over again.
“This is how I always wanted it to be, Carla.” He kissed her again, then propped his elbows on either side of her head and held her gaze with his. “I love you.”
Carla felt a laugh rip through her chest. It was either that or burst into tears.
Sam froze, every muscle in his body stiffening against her. “What?”
Her laughter rose to a hysterical pitch, overwhelming her until she could barely get the words out. “S-sam,” she sputtered helplessly, “isn't it obvious by now that you don't have to feed me a line to get me in bed? I'm here already!” She flung her arms up on the pillow to demonstrate.
She didn't know what she expected Sam to do, but it wasn't for him to slip from her body and move from the bed without saying a word.
Her body felt chilled at his sudden absence and she pulled the sheet up to her neck, a sense of dread settling over her as she watched him yank his shorts up his legs.
“What's wrong?”
He didn't answer, but it was clear from the way he dressed in quick, jerky moves that he was upset.
He stormed out without a word, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the villa's windows.
She fought the urge to go after him, ask him if it was really true, if it was possible.
But no. She already knew the answer. She didn't need to suffer the humiliation of having him confirm it once again to her face.
Sam O'Connell didn't fall in love with women. Certainly not with her.
He was just pissed, she reasoned, because no one else had ever called him on his bluff. Every woman before willingly played his game, listened to his pretty words, believed in the moment but knew it wasn't really true.
But here came Carla calling his bullshit, ruining the charade he was
so determined to keep up.
Carla continued to tell herself that through the rest of her sleepless night, while her heart ached with the wish that his words had been true.
Chapter 13
Humiliation burned through Sam so fiercely he could barely see. Pain gripped his chest, tearing at him with such ferocity it was a wonder he wasn't sick from it.
She’d laughed at him.
He'd laid out everything for her, blurted out the truth he couldn't keep inside, told her that he loved her.
And all she could do was laugh.
Unbidden, his father's voice entered his head, sneering, slurring, but never failing to get his point across. You think you're ever going to be more than a hard dick and a good time to a girl like that? You think she's ever going to love a worthless sack of shit like you?
He'd never felt anything like this, like someone had punched a hole clean through him.
Sam let himself into his office, his eyes burning, his fists clenched. He wanted to punch a wall, beat his hands against the concrete, anything to dilute the pain gnawing through him. But he resisted the urge to grab the computer monitor and smash it to the floor, to kick over the desk and use the desk lamp to shatter the windows.
He'd learned the hard way that wanton destruction and violence for its own sake didn't get you much more than bruised knuckles and a hefty bill to pay. It wouldn't chase away the crippling ache at the realization that the only woman he'd ever loved found it impossible to take his feelings seriously.
Impossible to take him seriously.
Just like his father predicted.
He brought his fist down on the desk, but stopped it there. Not only would trashing the place not bring any relief, it would only give Carla more evidence that Sam was still the immature, impulsive fuckup who was too charming for anyone's good.
It would be so easy to leave now, leave her high and dry and scrambling for a new security director as the board of directors breathed down her neck.
But contrary to Carla's lower than dirt opinion of him, Sam had changed. And despite the devastation he'd wrought his conscience wouldn't allow him to do this any way but the right way.
###
The next morning Carla was groggy and gritty eyed, her body aching with exhaustion. She hid her eyes behind over size sunglasses as she stepped outside. She was greeted by the low rumble of the generators they'd brought in to power the repairs. She went to first to the main building where the repairs were starting. Sam wasn't there, she noted, with equal parts disappointment and relief.
She wasn't quite ready to face him after last night, yet she craved the mere sight of him like a junkie craves a drug.
She grabbed a latte from the bar―now that the generators were online the espresso machine worked―and did a walk around the resort property. There was no sign of Sam anywhere. Finally, she went to his office.
It was empty. She started to get a panicky tightness in her chest. Sam hadn't put out much in the way of personal items, and the office looked much as it had the last time she'd been inside. No reason to think he'd bolted on the first boat he could catch over to St. Thomas.
Besides, she chided herself, Sam wouldn't be so upset about last night that he'd take off like a thief in the night. He'd been angry, sure, that she'd called his bluff, but it didn't go any deeper than that.
Did it?
Still, as she worked through the morning and into the afternoon with no sight of him, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. And even as she told herself it was a good thing he was keeping his distance―God knew she'd shown herself incapable of controlling herself around him―she found she missed his constant presence, the closeness of the last two days.
That was the exception, not the norm, she reminded herself. For this to work, she was going to have to find a way to work with Sam without giving in to his constant seduction and her own uncontrollable urges to jump his bones every ten seconds. To do that, she needed to maintain as much space as one small island would allow.
She ate a quick lunch and consulted with the contractor over the cost to replace the damaged floor in the restaurant. Afterwards, she went back outside to the deck overlooking the beach. Off in the distance she saw two large, male figures. Breath she didn't realize she was holding whooshed from her lungs as she recognized the outline of Sam's powerful shoulders.
Then se felt a spark of curiosity as she recognized the other man―her cousin Chris. Who wasn't scheduled to come back to Holley Cay for several days as he had to manage the minor repairs needed at the other resort.
As they got closer, Carla could see the grim lines on both men’s faces. Her stomach clenched. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn't good.
They caught sight of her as they approached the stairs leading up to the deck, exchanging a look as they jogged up the steps to join her.
Carla's smile of greeting withered as Sam hit her with a look so icy she shivered in the hot tropical air. She turned to her cousin, but what she saw in his eyes didn't offer any comfort.
His dark blue eyes, usually sparkling with humor, regarded her with something she'd never seen, not directed at her anyway.
Disappointment.
She swallowed hard. “What's going on?”
Sam cocked an eyebrow at Chris. “You want to tell her, or should I?”
Chris held up his hands. “You handle it. I've had enough stress for the week. I'm going to grab a drink.” He motioned with his thumb to the bar on the other side of the restaurant's French doors.
“I'm leaving,” Sam said curtly.
Carla felt the words like a punch to the gut. So her first instinct had been right. He was bailing on her. “You're just going to leave me high and dry?” She threw her hands up in the air. “You decided screwing me in the bedroom isn't enough? You have to leave me in the lurch and make me look bad to the investors too, just because I called you on your bullshit.”
Sam gave a harsh laugh, his face tight with derision. “Of course you would think that. You know, I somehow got it in my head that you were putting up a front, trying to protect yourself. Stupid idiot, now I finally get it. You really do think I'm still a worthless asshole who would screw you over and never look back. You don't get it, Carla, and you never will. I'm not that guy any more. I would never do anything to hurt you, no matter how shitty you treat me.”
He started to brush past her.
“Wait, what do you mean?” Carla stopped him with her hand on his arm, and felt it like punch to the gut when he snatched his arm away as though he couldn't bear her touch.
“After I left your place, I spent most of last night on the phone with a buddy of mine who works with my old firm who's willing to make a six month commitment. I already cleared it with Chris.”
Carla felt like the earth was shifting under her feet. “But the board―”
“He's got all the same qualifications and two more years experience than I do. Your board is going to cream their panties over him.”
“You can't just expect me to swap you out like a fork, hire this person sight unseen. I don't even know him, how he'll be to work with―”
“He's not me,” Sam said grimly. “Isn't that all that matters?”
He pushed past her again and this time she let him. She watched, frozen, as he went inside and said something to Chris. A few moments later he walked out again, not bothering to spare her a glance as he walked purposefully toward the main building.
Common sense told her this was a good thing. Having Sam out of the picture now rather than later would drastically reduce the damage he would do to her heart. Right now it was just a little bruised. But she knew if he stayed she'd never be able to resist him. Never be able to stop herself form falling headlong into love.
And when he inevitably moved on, she would be annihilated.
Yet the prospect of him leaving, the idea that she'd probably never see him again, created a tight, panicky feeling in her chest. Like her life was about to care
en horribly off course if she didn't do something about it.
Her head told her to let him go. But her feet were moving of their own accord, taking her to the main building and down the hall until she found herself at Sam's office door. Inside, she heard muffled thumps and the occasional curse.
He was packing up to leave. She should let him.
Even as she had the thought, her hand was twisting the knob and pushing the door open. He looked up and met her gaze for only a split second, but it was long enough for her to see something in his eyes that made her breath catch in her throat.
Pain. Soul deep, the kind you never truly recover from. Carla recognized it easily. She'd seen it in her own face in the days and months after Sam had tossed her aside.
She peered at Sam's face, the hard, neutral expression, and told herself she must have imagined it.
“Do you mind?” he snapped. “I need to finish packing and write up a list of protocols for my replacement and I'd rather not do it with you staring at me like I'm some zoo animal.”
Carla stepped over the threshold. “I don't get why you're so upset, why you think you have to leave―”
Sam froze in the act of slipping a paper into a file folder. “You don't get it?”
One second she was standing just inside the door, and the next Sam had her pinned against the wall, her feet dangling several inches from the floor as he pulled her up to his eye level. She recoiled from the anger in his face but there was nowhere to go.
“I told you I love you and you laughed in my face!” Sam yelled. The pain in his eyes was back, and this time he did nothing to hide it. Carla felt it burrowing inside her chest, squeezing around her heart until it hurt to even breathe.
“I―”
Sam cut her off. “You accuse me of using lines to get women into bed, and you're right. I've told a lot of women a lot of things. But I've never, ever told a woman I love her. Until you.”
“You can't mean it. How can you mean it?”
Sam released his hold on her and she slid to the floor. He pushed away from her and let out a strangled sound. “I know deserve this, after the way I treated you . After the things I've done, after the way I treated you, it serves me right that the first time I hang my ass out and tell a woman I love her she doesn't even believe me.” He shook his head, his lip curling in self disgust. “I know you won't believe this either, but I've only fed you a line once in my life. And that was when I told you what we had didn't matter and that I was just hooking up.”
