She found her courage in the unsaid bond that showed through just then in those grey-green eyes of his. “Could we be lovers?” she asked, putting all the cards on the table. “That’s what you need to know.”
Her limbs felt like dead weight but her heart beat like a race horse. At least talking about them kept her mind off of hurtful Luka and what he’d done in here. In that chair.
Finally, Sam answered, although he seemed only to be able to get a few words out at best. His massive chest rose and fell, showing all its strength, all his heart. Steadily, he breathed deep and long. It caused her to do the same. “Not me. We,” he said.
He meant it. Every tiny word he’d just let out was huge. He was right.
“We,” she amended. Her stomach flipped in anticipation of what that one word answer would mean.
Could it be that they’d just given up on it way too quick the first time around?
She remembered the burning, tearing sensation as he’d tried, softly as he could, to push inside her. Emma nearly bit the side of her tongue as her mind brought back her scream and the way he’d gone stone cold and statue-like, hovering above her. Her welcome home gift had shattered.
Just then she heard a couple of soft raps at the door before it opened.
Gabe.
“Hey, Gabe,” she said hearing the distraction in her voice.
“Hey, little mama,” he said quietly then looked to Sam. “Hey, man.”
“Oh, the laundry. Or your briefs. It was something, right? I’m supposed to be helping you with something. Sorry,” she said in his direction, wishing Sam wasn’t in here completely naked.
“Actually, I’ve got the laundry. And I can sew my own booty pants. Just wanted to let you know Donovan made an invitation during his last number. So, um, you’ll want to be finishing up in here. I’d say fifty minutes, tops.”
Sam just looked on. Emma hid her surprise, wondering what Marie thought of Donovan making invitations. They paused, kind of awkwardly, as soon as she realized Gabe had to have some idea of what was happening, especially since good Lord, Sam still hadn’t put his clothes on.
Thank God, Sam spoke up. “We’ll be done by then.”
Well, what could she do now? Tuck her tail and run at the insinuation those words had probably given Gabe?
What would Gabe think of Sam if she bailed?
Her best friend wasn’t some cold, scary jerk like Luka. She knew that’s what it would look like if she didn’t put on a calm face and answer up.
“Thank you for the heads-up,” she tried to say in her most even voice.
His glance dipped down to his feet. Yep, she’d made sweet, quiet Gabe uncomfortable. Emma patted down the wet parts of her blouse, feeling how her skin had become itchy under the softener where it soaked through. She ignored it.
“And thank you for the laundry help.” She leaned in and patted his hand. “We won’t be long. I’ll come find you afterward in case you need help with that stitching.”
He pulled in on his lips from the inside and held them together.
Emma didn’t have time to figure out what that may or may not mean. She left Gabe there in the doorway and walked the few steps across the room, silently repeating Sam’s name the whole way over. She scooped up her safety net, Sam’s set of dress whites, the ones he wore for the “Hero” routine. If they were doing this, if they were proving something to each other and calling re-do’s on disastrous nights from their pasts, he was doing it in this. The man was going to know he was her hero, fully clothed.
Darn. The small pile was missing two things, his officer’s hat and white gloves. She could watch him take those off, finger by finger, over and over again.
A cold chill swept over her at the overall emptiness of S room. She prayed this uniform, and Sam dressed in it, was enough to fill it up.
“Back in a second, I have to grab something,” she said to Sam who just sat there with a too-serious face and a look that said he doubted her return. To that, all she could do was leave and then let the proof be in her return.
****
Damn. How many times had he sat in this chair while show patrons fondled their way around, with permission, without permission? Did it matter?
His ass cheeks had never been in that chair naked as they were now. His skin stuck to the firm seat as he stood and paced a circle around it. Sam tugged back on his short hair.
She said a second. He glanced at the wall clock. She wasn’t coming back.
He stared down the door, willing Emma to walk through. This time at his invitation.
Not by accident, like the time she’d opened the door to find him with someone’s legs wrapped around his waist. Somehow he knew it wouldn’t matter were he to explain it was only for fun. The look on her face that time still killed him. Was that why she hated this room so much? How many different ways had he managed to hurt his best friend?
I’m such a dumbass. I never should have brought her to the damn job interview.
But he knew why he’d done that. Sam shook his head. He’d done it because he’d had no idea what else he could do. No idea how to keep her close, make sure she was okay, but keep his distance, too. Working together had seemed like a great solution. Clearly, he hadn’t been thinking straight.
He walked back to the center of the room where the chair was secured to the ground and did his best to make it move again. The damn thing was sturdy and not going anywhere. The last guy in here better have done like he was supposed to and wiped it clean. Sam made his way through the dim light and slid his hand along the wall where an inconspicuous container of antibacterial wipes, kind of like the ones you’d find at the gym, was mounted on a set of shelves. He grabbed one and wiped the chair down, then tossed the wipe to one dark corner. Just because he never took things that far with customers didn’t mean some of his peers hadn’t. Jay’s face came to mind. It was hard work, not getting turned on when every once in a while, the right girl showed up in the audience. He’d seen Jay’s face tonight when he squeezed a short, sequin-covered ass more than the one time the routine called for, but apparently Donovan had been the one to get lucky.
In the two years he’d been doing this, the right girl hadn’t shown up a single night, she’d been here every night. Watching him. Working for him. Keeping her distance but staying so close.
That ended tonight.
She would stay for him. Or she wouldn’t, and he’d leave his best friend alone to find her perfect fit.
Just then the door opened without the courtesy of a knock.
At first he thought it was Gabe coming to say Emma had left the building.
But there she was.
And there he was, standing bare-ass naked in front of her. It had happened plenty of times before, but this was different. The door closed loudly and made her jump. She walked over to his pile of clothes which she topped with his hat and gloves she’d just brought in.
“Found those in my locker?” he asked, admitting he was slightly nervous about the unknown right now, swimming in her dark, doe eyes. Her blonde hair shone in a small bit of light. Pretty, he thought. Very pretty. And soft.
She held the set out to him as she hovered nearby.
“Yep.”
“Are you okay being in here?” he blurted out, a little too late but still.
“Hell no,” she said and pushed the clothes into his stomach as he looked down at her, hating his height and width at that moment if it had her the least bit intimidated.
She wanted him to take the clothes from her, he could tell from the way her stiff arm kept jabbing them at him.
“Stay, Emma. Please,” he said and then took the clothes as a sign he wasn’t there to torment her exactly.
“Put those on and I’ll do my best.”
“Fair enough.” He started to get dressed, then paused, unsure of what exactly she wanted. “Wait, all of it?” he asked.
He watched her shoulders rise and then fall as if she’d made some big compromise and was settling on the terms. “
Yes, all of it.”
To him, that probably meant something entirely different, but he would clarify, hoping his assumption was correct. The thought, the fantasy thrilled him beyond what should be normal for a guy. “You want me to get dressed for you, Emma?”
Her head tilted, making the sides of her long, blonde bob fall at an even more exaggerated angle. It skimmed perfectly along her jaw. Damn, it was sexy like that. He knew she didn’t mean it that way. But he could admit he’d fantasized a few late, lonely nights about kissing his way along her jaw. Her shoulder rose and touched her chin. Did she want his touch? If she did, he wouldn’t expect Emma to ask.
“Turn around. Watch me,” he said gently.
Unlike when he’d stripped out of this getup, this was really wrecking his mind. Come to think of it, she had watched him get dressed on several occasions. And yeah, he’d caught her blinking the few times he’d made eye contact with her.
“Are we making another huge mistake, Sam? Wh—what are we doing?”
“Sharing,” it was the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t work here anymore. This is okay as long as you’re okay with it.” Unfortunately, they didn’t have all night. Less than an hour to be exact.
She was still stationed by the door, and he was still standing there naked. Her chin had dipped.
Sam took the few steps to her and raised her chin. He swallowed and watched her eyes on his throat.
“Come, please,” he said and had to tug her at first to get her to move with him. When her feet moved from where they’d seemed stuck before, he led her to the chair. “Sit, please.”
Unlike all the women who’d eagerly hopped into the seat then feasted on the sight of his lower body, unapologetically staring holes through his pants, she, sitting there with his hardening cock at eye level now, did not indulge. Did not ogle him. And she hadn’t taken the seat eagerly.
“Why won’t you look at me now, Emma?” Proof that her earlier “strip for me” stunt hadn’t been the actions of his best friend but those of a stressed-out woman with too much bottled up inside.
“I am looking at you,” she said. “And waiting for you to get dressed.”
Not at his eyes, that’s not what he’d meant. Shit. Maybe it said something that here they were in the privacy of this room, furnished for the imagination and a couple’s pleasure, and she wouldn’t even look at what she did to him. Maybe that pain he’d caused her would never leave. Maybe she didn’t want this, this way, with him.
“Damn, I’m sorry.” He set the folded uniform on her lap and started to get dressed. He made sure to turn away from her as he pulled the pants on. His ass shouldn’t be so offending as his stiff cock, mocking him and his desire for her now. Yeah, he still wanted her, just like he had two years ago. Nothing could change that. But he wouldn’t force himself on Emma. He zipped up the pants, carefully, and realized he hadn’t put the briefs on. Guess he was going commando. Next he picked up the shirt. He had one arm in when he heard her clear her throat.
“Sam. Sam,” she said louder and more clearly the second time. “I do want to see you get dressed. Please. It’s just…this room.” And then she went quiet.
Yeah, he could see where the room could be intimidating at first.
Sam did his best military about-face. Barefooted, he did the move pretty smoothly. But once he saw her face, the doubts came back.
She hated this room.
His need to reassure her returned. “Hey, you know you’re safe in here with me. I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.” He wanted to say he’d never hurt her but knew he’d already done that in the past. It would be a blatant lie and a big promise to make and then break should things not work out again—should they even get that far.
She nodded and he took it to mean she would try and put aside her aversion to these four dark walls and this one chair.
Facing her now and knowing she wanted to see this, he pulled the long-sleeve shirt on the rest of the way, tugged hard at the two pointy tips of the collar, and then let the rest hang loose. She watched him with an even face and a hint of blush he knew she’d never admit to.
Sam took one step forward, nudging his legs so they met up with her knees. He pushed a little more and won the space between her thighs. Even though he felt the elation of the win, he kept a straight and serious face, one worthy of the proud soldier he’d been not so long ago before turning erotic dancer. For a second, he wondered what his father’s thoughts would be on the stint at the club. When he’d passed, he’d only asked that Sam take care of Mom. Cancer hadn’t left Dad the time to write out instructions on how exactly an eleven-year-old kid went about doing that. Two years he’d tried and failed. Mom handled it by not handling it, which from experience, Sam knew never worked. But this girl sitting right here in front of him. Her family…
“Doing okay?” he asked to take his mind off the thoughts.
She nodded yes. “You?” Emma asked.
He nodded yes. “Good.” Were they just lying to each other? Sometimes that’s what friends did to push each other through.
Maybe she knew he was about to do this next part, but the look on her face said maybe he’d managed to surprise her when he took her two hands from the remainder of the pile and placed her palms flat against his still bare chest. Now it was his turn to sound like a broken record.
“Just trust me,” he said.
To his surprise and delight, they were clammy as she let them settle there, warming him to the core. She must have felt her own dampness. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered at the side of her cheek. “The good girls always have sweaty hands.”
He’d just finished the thought that her hands were stuck in place over his pecs when on her own, Emma dragged them downward, causing the highest level of heat he’d ever known to burn along underneath them, centimeter by slow centimeter. The lower her fingers went, the closer the contact became, the harder and more turned-on he got. He sucked in a breath and licked his lips, then grabbed her wrists. Finally, he managed to choke out, “I need to button up. You’ll have to remove these and put them in your lap, young lady.”
Button after excruciating button, he sealed up her view of his chest and then clumsily he smoothed down the front of the white shirt jacket made to resemble a naval officer’s dress uniform. He started to go for the gloves. But she covered them with her hand. “Do these last, please?”
“All right,” he said, hoping she heard the ways he was desperately trying to remain tender and in control.
He donned the white head cover and then nearly laughed. “I’d get so dinged for this in the real service.”
He looked down at his bare feet and then back up at her. She smiled and bit the corner of her lip. Seeing that, his mouth watered at first with relief, but then it was for something else. A taste.
How long had it been since he’d had one?
Their last kiss had hung around in his memory for a very long time, but after two years, he couldn’t recall if this vision was a memory of the real thing or just the fantasy he’d made up.
“Ready for these?” she asked him, a tiny hint of flirt in her words. He silently thanked God for that.
This time he was the one not to answer and instead just nodded and leaned down, until he realized that hadn’t gotten him close enough. Sam went down onto both knees and still had a few inches on her. He tried not to be so turned on by how petite she was, but he couldn’t lie, it was a definite turn-on and made him want to protect and shield her. With their size difference having been their downfall before, he leaned in to her face to hide the desire flaming on his. He couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. She apparently couldn’t help but swallow a couple times. “Emma, stop me if I’m wrong about…any of this. This first,” he said, close enough to feel his lips move against her throat with his words.
He then watched her eyes close.
He committed the beauty of it all to memory, and then with his hands clasped and locked behind his back parade-rest sty
le to maintain a modicum of restraint, he let his lips brush against hers a couple times. He shivered from his head to his toes.
Finally, after seeing how she’d gone to sitting with her hands wedged under her thighs, he closed his eyes, too, and opened his mouth enough to breathe her in. He knew his lips were bigger than most dudes, and he got high on how good it felt to feel her breathing into them. It felt like she enjoyed their fullness when she kissed him back and lingered there a little longer than he’d expected. When she let her tongue slip out before he had the chance to make that first move, he licked her, nearly dying, and let their tongues touch for a couple unbelievable seconds. When her small hand snaked up the side of his neck, he had to open his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. It was real. Her fingers were petting the short hairs that had grown since his last trip to the barber, and he was getting unbearably hard.
That’s when the neck massaging started.
Subtle but dangerous. He stopped her.
“Now, I’ll take those.” He stole her hand from his neck, feeling his body’s pull to explore more of her and make his way inside, and fighting it like hell. The chance was still there that he wouldn’t fit. He’d only pumped up more since high school and his stint in the Army, and she was still perfect and petite. She had to blink several times before releasing the hands tucked under her thighs and handed him a glove.
Still on his knees, he pulled it on one finger at a time, but it felt unnatural and clumsy. “You know, I just realized this is way better when they’re coming off. Hold on.” He snatched up the other glove and turned on his knees away from her. When he turned back around, he had two white, glove-covered hands. There. After taking her chin in his gloved hand and daringly stealing another kiss which she slowly melted into, he then went about pulling them off one finger at a time.
Finally, at that, she smiled.
Inside, he did, too. There had been no plan for this. It was just happening. And so far, it felt natural. Right. He prayed that didn’t change.
He had to ask. “Of all the things, why do you like that so much?”
A full-on blush spread up from her neck. “Your hands, Sam. There’s just something about them.” He’d bet underneath her shirt, her chest was where the rosy color had started. It was now all over her face and she wiped at her cheeks like they’d been dusted. “I know how hard you work with those hands. I could say it’s incredibly sexy, and it is. But it’s more than that. You know?”
Stay for Me Page 5
