by Marie Harte
She slowed down her lettuce ripping. “What’s that, Sam?”
“I’m not a good guy for playing games.”
She frowned. “I wasn’t playing any.”
“No, not you. Me. Hell. I’m not saying this right.” He sounded like an idiot, and she looked confused. But he’d been practicing, needing to voice his concerns. “I just…after last night, I can’t think about your hands without getting hard.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. I’ve been happier than shit all damn day.”
A softer “oh,” this one with a smile.
“But I need you to know that I’m not just here for sex. I mean, I wouldn’t say no, but you have to understand we’ll only do something if you want to. I would never force you to do anything.”
“I know that, Sam.” She gave him a tender look. “I trust you.”
His heart felt so damn full when she gave him that look. That trust. “Good.” He coughed to clear his throat. “I wanted you to know that I like talking to you. Being with you. We don’t have to do anything for me to be happy.” So fucking weird he meant that.
“What if I want to?”
“Well, then. That’s different.”
“I mean,” she continued, “I like just being with you too. I like talking to you. You have a dry sense of humor, and you make me laugh.”
“I do?” He thought he was funny, and he could normally get a chuckle or two out of Eileen or Foley, but the guys at the garage tended to dismiss him as a sarcastic bastard. Which he was, but not all the time. Other people ignored his sense of humor or shied away from him.
“Yes, you do.” She nodded. “I also think you’re amazingly good-looking. And I love your body.”
“Huh.” Just talking, she’d gotten him totally hard. She liked him. Damn it all, that felt good.
“But I don’t want you to think I’m only after you because of your body. I want to spend time with you too. If that’s okay.” Now she seemed nervous. “I’m bad at relationships. I should probably warn you about that now. I can get too serious too fast. And I’m not all that sexual, I don’t think.”
He stared, amazed. “Seriously?”
“Well, it’s been a long time for me. I might have been all sexy to you because I was in a dry spell.”
“One you wanted, not because guys weren’t into you.”
She blushed. “That’s true. But I was tired of dating and always having to take care of men.”
“Good. I don’t want to be taken care of.” He got enough of that from Foley and Eileen. He liked it, but he also hated it. Hated being thought of as fragile. “I want to do for you.”
Ivy relaxed. “You’re so sweet.” Again thinking him sweet and funny. She saw things in him he wanted to be. “But I don’t need anything more than some laughter and conversation.”
“Ivy, when’s the last time a guy got you flowers before me?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Max at the beginning of our relationship, maybe?”
“Or how about a guy taking you to dinner?”
“I did that a year ago.”
“I mean, without expecting you to put out.”
She sighed. “Again, Max. Maybe. Even then he wanted something from me.”
“Well, here’s the thing. You’re sexy as hell. I want to fuck you, yeah. But I’m here, and we haven’t screwed yet, and I’m not expecting you to.” He loved that she smiled. “I’m here because I like you. No ulterior motive. No sex on the table or off, no gifts or rewards. Just being with you is good. Okay?”
“Okay.” She used her shoulder to wipe some hair out of her eyes, and he crossed to help her, wanting his hands on her again. “You are the absolute best, you know that?”
He flushed, not comfortable with her praise. “Just being honest. Seriously, I still want you. But I… Us together is fun. Not complicated.” Okay, that was a big fat lie. She confused the shit out of him, mostly because he’d never felt this way about a woman before. And especially not one he’d just met. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.” Her green eyes seemed so wide, so deep.
Again, that trust. She killed him. “When you don’t want something, you tell me no. No means no to me. Not some bullshit about really meaning yes. You get me?”
She nodded.
“I’m not into force. I mean, when—if—we get together, yeah, I like to be in charge. But that’s only if you’re good with what we’re doing. I don’t care if I’m two seconds from shooting my load. You say no, we stop.” At least, he hoped he’d be able to stop. Anytime he got his hands on her, he felt lost to her taste, her touch. The woman drove him crazy, and she didn’t seem to realize that. Or maybe she did now. He had come pretty hard for her last night.
“Thanks, Sam.” She put down the veggies and gave him a hug. Then she drew his face down and kissed him.
Unlike the others, this kiss wasn’t about passion. It was about faith, affection, care. To his surprise, the kiss hit him harder than anything they’d shared. When she let him go, he saw an odd look in her eyes.
“Ivy?”
She smiled and moved back to her lettuce. “Let me tell you about our puppy.”
That “our” sounded way too appealing. Because with little effort, he imagined that our spreading to words like house, family, and forever.
And the shit just got real.
Chapter 11
Sunday afternoon, Ivy walked hand in hand with Sam on a paved walkway along the beach. Cookie remained on a harness attached to a leash looped around her wrist, while she and Sam ate ice cream cones they’d grabbed before hitting the park. Seattle had a warm, sunny day on the books, and everyone seemed out and about, taking advantage of the weather.
He’d suggested Lincoln Park, and she loved the brisk wind, the tang of salt in the air, and the sun shining while Cookie investigated everything around him. He’d been doing better with a leash, though she noticed he had a tendency to want to jump when she held it. When Sam walked him, the puppy was completely docile.
“You know he’s totally bossing you around,” Sam said as he ate his cone of birthday cake ice cream.
“Probably because he’s male, and men seem to want to boss me around lately.” She arched her brow at him and licked her salted caramel before it could drip.
“You have no idea how much I wish I was an ice cream cone right now.” He groaned. “I’m not looking at you until you finish that thing. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.”
“You want to talk punishment? Dealing with all your rules about food in your car, then listening to you complain about how I walk the dog. That’s cruel and unusual, you big blockhead.” She liked their bickering. It felt a little like Cyn and Foley’s mock fighting.
Sam’s eyes twinkled. “Is that right? You might want to hold him a little tighter,” he said with a nod at Cookie.
“I’ve got this, thank you very—Cookie!” The puppy yanked her forward when he discovered a lab puppy coming closer. At twenty pounds and probably three to four months, he’d already become a handful. She could only imagine what he’d be like at sixty, then seventy pounds if she didn’t get him under control now, when she still could. Her problem—she’d scold him, then look into his big, brown eyes and lose any sense of right and wrong to hugs and kisses.
Sam snorted. “Yeah, nice firm grip you have on our dog, there. Great discipline.”
Our dog, he’d said. Every time he used our she felt like smiling. “I’ll give you some discipline.” She bit back a dopey grin as she reined in Cookie. “Come on, pup. Cookie, easy. Relax.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is heel,” Mr. Helpful said as he continued munching on his ice cream.
“Would you like to take him for the walk?”
“No, no. You’re doing a bang-up jo
b.”
She tried not to laugh, but Sam’s condescension was too funny, mostly because he was so obvious about it. Max used to play passive-aggressive games, praising her out of one side of his mouth while insulting her out of the other. Sam didn’t use subterfuge. If he thought her a bitch, he’d likely call her one. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened yet. Not a fan of the b-word, she had no idea how she’d handle him if it came to that.
“You know, I want to strangle you and kiss you. Both at the same time.”
He wiggled his brows. “Oh, kinky.”
She chuckled and swung his hand in hers. “You wish.”
“You’re damn right I do.”
Then why hadn’t they done anything last night? The evening had been spent enjoying a meal together. The steaks and potato casserole had been cooked to perfection. The beer had been a great accompaniment, to her surprise. And the carrot cake had stayed moist, for once.
He’d devoured it all. They’d played a game of Jenga afterward, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. Cookie had been a doll, and they’d taken turns playing fetch with him until the poor little guy had run out of steam and conked out chewing on his pig ear. To cap off the evening, Scanners had been playing on TV, and they’d enjoyed telekinetics blowing heads up with possibly the worst special effects ever.
Totally a night to remember. Then Sam had turned his hot gaze on her. The moment had seemed frozen in time. A quick kiss and he’d been gone with a promise of a walk in the park the next day.
“Sam.”
“Yeah?”
Another dog neared, and she took a firmer grip on Cookie this time.
“You’re melting,” he said with a nod at her cone.
“Crap. Cookie, heel.” She used her ornery-patient therapist voice. To her pleased surprise, Cookie obeyed.
“Nice job.” Sam nodded. He finished his ice cream. “Here, give him to me while you eat that thing. It’s so sad, the way you’re dripping all over the place.”
She handed Cookie’s leash over. “How you can be so, and I quote, ‘messy yet organized’ at home, but a little bit of ice cream on my hands turns you into Mr. Clean?”
He sighed. “Here.” He took her hand in his, then brought her finger to his mouth. She could only watch as he sucked her finger clean. The warmth of his mouth did funny things to her insides, turning her on in a big, big way.
“Oh.” She swallowed.
“Yeah, that’s why you need to keep that shit clean. Because if I put my mouth on you again, I might go down on you in public. In front of our poor dog. Then the little guy will be in therapy forever. You remember Mathmos and Pygar, don’t you? Those dogs used to be normal before seeing Willie and Rupert swinging it up.”
She cringed. “Don’t remind me.”
He grinned. “The cats were never normal though. Barbarella and Tyrant have always been evil.”
A spear of sunlight landed on him just then, and he seemed to glow, a larger-than-life warrior.
And all mine.
“Hmm. What’s that look?”
Her finger still tingling and her nipples now hard, she shivered. “Just thinking about last night. And what we could have been doing but didn’t.”
Instead of a frown or look of upset, Sam wore nothing but smug satisfaction.
“Something you wanted to say, Sam?”
“I told you. I’m trying to go slow. I want us to be friends.”
“We are friends.” She felt as if she were in an episode of the Twilight Zone, having a man put the brakes on their sexual relationship, not wanting to be viewed as a piece of meat. “But please, go on.” Fascinating. Especially since he seemed…shy?
“I told you. I like you a lot. We can get together and have fun without it being about sex. I want you to know I respect you.”
She looked around her.
“What?”
“I was just wondering if you were doing some kind of PSA about abstinence. Because trust me, it doesn’t make the heart grow fonder.” She snorted.
Sam blinked.
“Sam, you’re a sweetheart. I believe you when you say you like and respect me. That still doesn’t mean we can’t get naked and sweaty.” Oh my gosh. Who are you speaking? Evil twin Ivy? Slutty Ivy?
Honest Ivy, who was tired of being second best and not voicing her wants and needs. Screw that. It was a new era. There was no time limit on dating before having sex. And she could own her desire. She wanted him—and was proud of having a sex drive again. The dawn of Ivy Stephens, sexual princess. The She-Ra of nookie and her beastmaster’s new queen.
Hmm. Maybe she should lay off the sci-fi for a while.
Sam stared at her as if she had three heads.
“What?”
“It’s just…” He gaped. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of playing hard to get. I’m trying to wrap my mind around it.”
“Well, hurry up while you’re doing that. Cookie is circling that grass and getting ready to… Ew. He’s definitely your dog now.”
He huffed, muttered something about her being such a girl, then dragged a waste bag out of the small sack attached to the leash. After he cleaned Cookie’s mess, he tossed the bag in a nearby receptacle.
She just stared at the hand he’d used to scoop poop. Granted, his hand had been protected by the bag the entire time he’d cleaned it up, but… She cringed when he tried to hold her hand again.
“Jesus. You’re worse than Foley. Hold on.” He dug into the small sack once more and pulled out a mini-bottle of hand sanitizer.
Only after he’d used the stuff did she accept the hand he held for her.
“You’re such a wuss,” he sneered.
“Thank you, Beastmaster.” She grinned. “You’ve earned the title, you know. You mastered everything about Cookie. Even his poop.”
“That’s it. No more sci-fi for you.”
“It fits. Your beast”—she pointed to Cookie, panting with his tongue out—“is quite the ferocious and cunning hunter.”
They watched the puppy bark at a pinecone, then scoop it into his mouth.
“Yeah, he’s a killer,” Sam drawled. He yanked her forward and gave Cookie a gentle tug. “So since we’re not having sex and being all friendly—”
“Who’s fault is that?” She might have put a little too much snap in her answer, because he seemed far too amused.
“Easy there, Miss Frisky.” He chuckled. “And don’t get all offended. I’ve been Mr. Horny since I met you.” That eased some of her concern that he thought her some kind of nympho. “How about we talk? Tell me something about yourself I don’t know.”
“Like what?” Pleased Sam wanted to know more about her, she debated what to tell him. Max had usually spent his time talking about himself and what he wanted. As had the few men after him. Sam seemed more interested in Ivy. A nice but puzzling change. “Why do you want to know?”
“So distrustful.” He sighed. “I told you already. I’m trying to get to know you better.”
“I like kissing.” She watched for the telltale flush at his cheeks, and seeing it, found pleasure in their conversation. Ha. Take that, Mr. Horny.
He cleared his throat. “How about some other details? Like your family?”
She frowned. “What about them?” Was he trying to ruin their good day?
“You haven’t said much about them.”
“You haven’t said much about yours either.”
“Good point. Look, I’ll straight up tell you Louise and I don’t get along. Never have. I don’t like to talk about her. But I’ll tell you anything you want to know about Foley and Eileen.” He studied her while they walked. “If it hurts to talk about your family, just say so and I won’t pry. I hate that shit, people trying to make you talk when you don’t want to.”
She raised a b
row.
“And that’s not what this is, you blond pain in my ass,” he muttered. “I’m not interrogating you. This is me trying to show you I like more than your tits and ass.” His cheeks were on fire.
That was Sam—a man whose blunt honesty chipped away at her defenses. “Fine. It’s not like it’s a big secret.” She dragged out her answer, testing to see if he really wanted to know or just wanted her to think he did. But he only waited while they continued their walk. “You asked for it.”
“And…?”
She blew out a breath. “The sad truth is my parents always wanted a boy. When they had Ethan, life was perfect. But he got lonely, and they decided to give him a baby brother. Problem was, they got a baby sister instead. And in the Stephens household, women are tolerated because they make boys.”
“Ouch.”
She shrugged, trying to ignore the dull pain that never left. “It is what it is. Ethan was actually a pretty nice kid. I think he loved me when we were growing up.” The only thing that had made life livable. Her parents had said and done all the right things in public, taking pride in their pretty little girl and her good grades and athletic prowess. But nothing Ivy did was ever enough to make them truly see her. And her mother had been the worst.
“Are you guys close now?”
She shook her head. “Growing up, Ethan felt sorry for the way my parents ignored me. Sometimes he’d pretend he wanted something that I wanted, just so I could have it.” The memory still made her smile.
“Sounds like a good guy.”
“He was. And then he met Cheryl.” Ivy sighed. “Cheryl was pretty, smart. Head cheerleader and came from a good family. She and my brother fell in love. I was so happy for him. Until I realized Cheryl fit into my family better than I ever could. Like my parents, she focused everything on Ethan. I was the odd man out.”
“That bites.”
“Yeah.” Depression settled in. Cookie trotted back to her side and kept trying to lick her hand. She bent down to stroke his furry head. “Ethan gave her whatever she wanted. And that happened to be a lot less of me. I kind of wandered away from home, and no one really missed me.” She studied the water, seeing the waves come and go, that big, broad sound. Some things never changed. “They still don’t. My parents got Cheryl and Ethan, the perfect family. Even better, I became an aunt to a baby boy three years ago. I wasn’t invited to the birth or the christening.”
