Tui pulled a face and, following Vee’s lead, started walking back toward the house. “Five years ago I would’ve agreed. He’s been in a holding pattern for a long time, never letting anyone under his skin. But these last couple of years he’s different. More settled.” She gave Vee’s arm a gentle nudge with her elbow. “I think our Sammy’s finally growing up.”
“Don’t let him hear you call him Sammy,” Vee said.
Tui laughed. “You used to, remember? Just to get a rise out of him.”
It’d been one of the only ways Vee’d known to get his attention—even if it was his irritated attention. She made a small sound of amusement and kept walking. Somewhere a morepork cried and the first breeze of the evening carried the scent of brine and the sound of laughter.
“That thing you had for him when we were kids,” Tui said softly, “it never went away, did it?”
Vee’s heart skittered sideways, and she opened her mouth, her first instinct being to deny, deny, deny. But apparently she was the only one who thought her schoolgirl crush on Sam hadn’t been that noticeable. Unobservant, that was her. “Guess it didn’t.”
They neared the side of the house and Tui grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “My brother’s not a turd-bucket like Patrick. He wouldn’t hurt you like that.”
“I know.” No, Sam wouldn’t deliberately hurt her; he was too good a man to do that. But now she was afraid her growing feelings for him would break her own heart.
Tui nodded in encouragement and they continued around to the back deck. The dessert plates and pavlova had disappeared from the outdoor table and Ariana and Pete had been busy refreshing everyone’s glasses. Nat waved at her, and called out that Ruby and Olivia had gone inside to read the collection of picture books Ariana kept for the many kids who ended up in the Ngatas’ living room.
Vee’s stomach knotted, part of her wistful, wanting to be a part of the Ngata whānau again as her friend Nat had been drawn into their fold because of Isaac. Tui headed back to her seat and Sam stood and pulled Vee’s chair out. Her gaze was drawn down to his groin, and yep, there was a bulge there that definitely wasn’t part of his usual package.
She sank into her chair and kept her gaze fixed on the fresh glass of white wine beside her table setting. Would it look suspicious if she drained the whole thing in one gigantic swallow? Before she could contemplate the pros and cons of binge drinking, Sam tapped a fork on his wineglass. Vee froze, suddenly noticing that he hadn’t sat down with her.
“If I could have your attention,” he said.
The conversation around the table sputtered out and Vee could feel everyone’s gazes swivel to her and Sam.
Oh. Dear. Lord.
She was having a flashback instant replay of the awkward dinner she’d attended at Patrick’s brother’s house when he’d announced they were getting married. There had been three endless beats of silence before Patrick’s sister-in-law had broken it with a “Congratulations,” said at a nails-on-chalkboard pitch.
“I’m not one for making speeches,” Sam continued. “That’s my big bro’s jam. So I’ll keep this short and sweet.” He moved his chair backward and dug into his jeans pocket.
He drew out a black velvet box.
He got down on one knee.
Vee was pretty certain at this point that her small helping of hangi—consisting of deliciously tender lamb, sweet kumara, and potatoes—was going to end up on her ballet flats. She had to remind her lungs to keep breathing, and her fingers not to clench the armrest of her chair so hard that she’d snap something off.
The silence around the table was absolute, and she didn’t need to look at Eric and Julia to know they didn’t get how strained, how awful the lack of reaction truly was. Everyone but the Wrights knew it was wrong for Sam to be on bended knee. If it’d been real—if any of it had been real—the reaction wouldn’t have been terse silence. It would’ve been a pandemonium of whoops and jokes and a fever of happy excitement.
“Vee,” Sam said.
She was still staring at her wineglass because there was a better chance of wine making sense—wine always made sense—than figuring out why the hell Sam was doing this. But she couldn’t put off looking at him without making the Wrights suspect something wasn’t quite kosher in the Ngata-Sullivan merger. So she stretched her lips into what she hoped resembled an OMG, I’m so surprised and ecstatic smile and shifted on the chair to face him.
And her ovaries exploded.
Did he have to look so handsome in his button-down shirt and jeans that were stretched snugly over his muscled thighs? Did he have to possess a smile that was in equal parts panty-dropping and genuinely affectionate?
Goddamn the man.
Her throat locked tight and all the blood in her body rushed to her feet, leaving her brain light enough to float right out of her head. Lucky she was sitting down.
“Yes?” she squeaked.
That’s right, squeaked.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids, which should’ve been enough to put you off taking a chance on the troublemaker who once left a plastic spider in your gumboots.”
“That was you?”
They received a few chuckles for Sam’s effort of lightening the mood.
“I’m grateful you gave me another chance to be part of your life—part of Ruby’s life—and I want you both in my life always.” He flipped open the black velvet lid.
Nestled inside was a diamond solitaire ring.
“Will you marry me?” he asked simply.
Utter stillness from the Ngata whānau. Julia gasped and said, “Awww,” but Vee heard it as if she were at the bottom of a deep dark well. No was on the tip of her tongue, rapidly replaced by yes, because that was the only acceptable answer. But what fell out of her mouth into the stunned silence was a quivering, “Uh-huh.”
Who said romance was dead?
Chapter 14
She said yes!! was sprayed onto the back window of the minivan with shaving foam.
Isaac’s work, most likely. Asshole. Sam grimaced at the foam writing as Vee secured a sleepy Ruby into her car seat.
Technically, she said “uh-huh,” not yes.
Not quite the enthusiasm he’d hoped for, but then again, he hadn’t practiced popping the big one in front of a mirror to ensure he had it down slicker than duck shit. Maybe he’d sounded like the douche he suspected he was.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and the velvet box—minus the boring-as-mud ring now on Vee’s left hand like a testament of his douchery—dug uncomfortably into his balls. He hauled it out and leaned across to shove it into the glove compartment.
Don’t lose it, a little voice piped up in his head. Vee will need it to return it after this is all over.
She climbed into the passenger seat, keeping her gaze locked outside to where the Wrights were loading themselves into Isaac’s SUV. He’d offered to take Julia and Eric to a glow-worm grotto popular with tourists, about a forty-minute drive out of Bounty Bay. Eric had winked at him as they got ready to leave with Ruby draped over Sam’s shoulder.
“Don’t wait up for us, you two,” he said. “Congratulations again, lovebirds.”
Vee had muttered a quick thanks and hurried ahead, neatly avoiding any more of the attention and ooohs over the new ring on her finger. Because he didn’t know what else to do or say, Sam drove them home in record time.
Vee almost fell out of the minivan when it came to a complete stop, and started unbuckling Ruby from her seat. The little girl was tired out and didn’t wake as Vee carried her inside and disappeared into her bedroom.
Sam left the hall light on and went into his bedroom, changed his mind at the sight of his neatly made bed—Vee insisted on remaking it perfectly each morning which was just insane because it only got rucked up again at night—and walked back out the way he’d come. Getting Vee anywhere near a horizontal surface right now wasn’t a good idea.
He’d been fighting his baser instincts all evening. His base
r instincts that wanted him to run his palm up her smooth thighs under her pretty summer dress. They wanted him to bury his nose in the sweet smell of her hair, which she hadn’t tied up tonight and spilled over her shoulders in soft waves of perfection. They wanted him to explore the texture of her kisses, from tentative to when she finally surrendered and gave him her mouth.
Baser instincts. Yeah, right.
Sam headed to the end of the porch and the bench seat near where Turbo lay in doggy dreamland on his back. Yep, quite the mood killer was Turbo. Just as well. He sat on the bench, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his palms along his prickly jaw. What the hell, man? What had he been thinking? He closed his eyes, picturing Vee’s masklike face as he’d made a complete dick of himself.
A noise beside him made him lift his face. Vee, her feet bare, padded along the deck to sit beside him. He caught a glimpse of her bare fingers as she slid them under her knees and swung her calves.
“That was a helluva prank at my expense,” she said. “You got me good.”
“Shit, Vee.” What could he say to convince her pranking had been the last thing on his mind? He wasn’t one for soul searching, but he owed her more than just a half-assed excuse like I thought going through with the proposal would be the icing on the cake with the Wrights.
“So why?”
“Can’t pinpoint why exactly.” Listen to him, ducking and weaving around becoming vulnerable with more natural ability than Isaac, the former All Black. “Guess the ring was burning a hole in my pocket.”
She huffed out a sigh, which in his experience with females was number fifty-two of their nonverbal cues that men could be as dense as pig shit sometimes.
Twisting on the seat to face him, she smacked a palm down on his thigh. “Not good enough, Ngata. Why?”
Because you’re mine. And, fuck, I want everyone to know you’re mine, even if it’s only for a little bit longer. The words that popped into his brain rendered him speechless.
The light spilling out onto the deck from the hallway allowed him to meet her steady gaze. Something she saw on his face must’ve answered her question because she rose slowly to her feet.
“Vee—” He grabbed for her, thinking she was about to storm away.
Her skin was warm as he wrapped his fingers around the fragile bones of her wrist, but she wasn’t trying to pull back. Instead, she straddled his lap and cupped his face in her hands. Sam couldn’t have dragged his gaze from her, even if Bounty Bay’s tsunami siren started to wail.
“Shhh.” She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, light enough that he thought he was imagining the touch. “I take it back. Tonight I don’t want to know why.”
He laid his hands gently on Vee’s hips, kneading her flesh, pulling her more snugly against him. Zero to a hundred in thirty seconds, he was hard enough to drill through a slab of kauri. Would he ever stop wanting her so badly?
No.
But wanting her wasn’t anywhere near the truth of why.
Vee slid her fingers into his hair, gripping and releasing the short strands, dipping her mouth to tease and torment, nipping his lower lip and then soothing that sting with the flicker of her tongue. A groan ripped from some visceral place inside him that thrived on need, harsh enough that his ears barely registered the scratch of claws on decking. The bench seat shuddered under him and something wet licked the back of his hand.
He could’ve ignored the sloppy canine kisses—at least for a little bit longer since Vee was rubbing herself against him, making it extremely hard to concentrate—but he couldn’t ignore the mournful howl that suddenly started up right beside them.
Vee jerked her mouth from his on a gasp and twisted around. Turbo, who’d plopped his butt by Sam’s feet with his snout tipped up to the sky, wailed again.
Arrroooooo.
“Turbo! Quit it!” Sam craned to one side, unwilling to let go of Vee in case she changed her mind and scrambled off him.
The dog lowered his head, let out a disgruntled bark, then stared at him with accusing eyes.
“In your bed,” Sam said.
Turbo tilted his head to one side and whined, holding up a paw as if to shake hands. Now the damn animal decided to shift from catatonia to cutsie?
“Aw,” Vee said. “I think he wants some attention, too. Maybe he’s jealous and needs a belly rub?”
“Don’t encourage him.” Cock-blocked by a damn dog.
Arms full of woman, Sam rose to his feet.
She giggled, wrapping her arms and legs around him like a spider monkey. “Man’s best friend, huh?”
“Some wingman he turned out to be.”
She smiled into his eyes, slaying him to the core with the knowledge that this could be the way it was between them for the rest of their lives. Fun, partnership, understanding, passion.
“We should probably take this into the bedroom.” Vee lowered her head and gently sunk her teeth into his shoulder.
“Hell yeah. I don’t want an audience for what I’ve got in mind.”
He carried her into his room, bumping the door shut with his hip then turning so he could pin her up against it. One kiss merged with the next as he ground into her softness. She whimpered, fisting his hair again, this time hard enough to sting. Sex up against the wall was as hot as hell, but not without its frustrations. Number one being he had no extra hands available to strip her naked.
Sam whirled around and strode to the bed, his fingers finding the zipper of her dress and tugging it down. She got with the program real fast and unhooked her legs, sliding down his body to set her feet on the floor. While she finished unzipping her dress, Sam completed a record-breaking striptease without the tease. Shirt, jeans, boxer briefs—all went flying. Then he gave a helping hand to Vee; he was a gentleman that way. Dress, bra, lace panties—holy shit, if he’d known what she’d been wearing under that dress—dumped on the floor in his rush to have her.
He tumbled her onto the bed then grabbed protection from his nightstand. He followed her down, the feel of her writhing beneath him as hard met soft and silky the ultimate turn-on. Her legs parted and he sank into her, burying his face in her throat, his breath stolen by the warmth of her beautiful, welcoming body. He rose up on his forearms and captured her mouth in a soul-blistering kiss, holding nothing back. Everything, every part of him belonged to her and he was lost.
Vee cried out as he thrust into her again. So wet, so sweetly gripping him, so right, that it took every ounce of his control not to pound into her until he found release. He stilled, looking down at the graceful arch of her throat, the lushness of her mouth, her teeth digging into her full lower lip, her bliss-filled expression. She circled her hips in encouragement, hands stroking down his spine to clamp on his ass, pulling him even farther inside her.
She was so fucking beautiful. He was frozen in time and space, not wanting this moment to ever end. He’d never felt like this with a woman before—like he could just quiet himself inside her and still achieve a mind-blowing climax fueled by desire alone. Something beyond physical lust, in the realms of that new-age tantric sex crap that up until now he’d sneered at. Sex, he’d believed, was fucking. And fucking was all about the physical.
Her eyes fluttered open and their gazes locked and held. This, with Vee, wasn’t only about the physical.
She’s mine. She’s always been mine.
“Sam?” she whispered, shallow frown lines appearing on her forehead and her mouth tipping down in the corners. “Is everything okay?”
‘Am I okay?’ was what she was really asking. Self-doubt threaded like an undercurrent in her words, and he sucked in a harsh breath.
“Everything’s perfect.”
The lines smoothed and she rotated her hips again. “Then make love to me. Right now.”
He forced a grin onto his mouth. A fake, charming grin to hide the effect her demand had on his heart. This time—this time—he would be making love to his woman, not the other way around.
He withdrew slightly and thrust into her again. Her eyes widened and her fingernails dug crescents into his ass cheeks.
“Yes, ma’am,” he ground out, and she half laughed, half moaned which made him even impossibly harder. Setting a lazy rhythm, he rocked into her over and over, delighting in the pleasure playing over her face.
Then she twisted beneath him, and he surrendered to the silent order to flip them over so she was on top. Long hair fanning around her face, she leaned forward, bracing her palms on his chest. He set his hands over hers, stroking her fingers. She froze, gaze tracking down to her paler skin covered by his darker tan. She tightened around him, then relaxed, gently raising her hips off him until he slipped out of her.
He sucked in a breath—ready to beg for mercy if necessary—and that breath locked in his chest. Vee leaned over, picked up something from her nightstand, and then sat back on him. His caught breath whooshed out as she slid on the ring. The diamond caught a flash of light and the sight of it back on her finger sliced through the last of his control. He gripped her hips and lifted her off his stomach, shifting her slightly backward until her folds slicked along his length.
With a moan, she reached behind her and wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing him firmly as she guided him inside. She sank down onto him with another ball-tightening moan.
“Still perfect?” she asked.
Fuck, she felt amazing. Now he knew what finding home in a woman’s arms really meant.
“Yeah.”
His hips pistoned off the mattress, seeking a deeper connection, and her slender spine arched. He laced their hands together above him, feeling the cool band of gold press into his fingers as she began to move. Slow at first, mimicking the unhurried strokes he’d tortured both of them with earlier, then restlessly, riding him until he was nearly out of his mind. The instinct to claim her, to possess, overtook him and he flipped her onto her back again, driving himself mindlessly into her.
She’s mine. She’s always been mine.
He took her lips again, for that was what he’d been missing. That, and the whole silky length of her beneath him, cradling him, her stiffened nipples scraping his chest, her fingers still laced with his as he stretched them over her head. He tasted the sweetness of her tongue as it danced with his, and he plundered her mouth, desperate to get more of her, all of her.
Break Your Heart: A Small Town Romance (Bounty Bay Book 5) Page 19
