“Sam.” I whispered his name.
“That’s right,” he growled. “You’re going to take me, Dakota. All of me. Every inch.” He drew back again and slammed into me. Our skin slapped together with each of his punishing thrusts. “This is payback for every sleepless night you ever gave me.”
“Yes,” I answered and drew my nails down his back, reveling in the primal tone of his voice. “Punish me. Make me pay.”
Every slam of his pelvis pushed my body further up the mattress. He wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me, angling into me deeper, holding me to him. I could do nothing more than cling to his back while he rode me. His quiet grunts of pleasure sang in my ears. I’d never wanted anything more. I prayed for it to be over, I prayed it would never end, and I prayed he wouldn’t see how much I need his touch.
When his release shuddered through him, a masculine growl rumbled through his chest. I caressed his back, soothing the scratches left by my nails. He rolled off me and threw a forearm over his face, shielding his expression from me. The second his body left mine, emptiness filled me. Time had dulled the ache of his absence, but with him lying next to me, the heat of his body burning down my side, I couldn’t deny I’d missed him any longer.
We lay motionless, side by side, the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears, darkness around us. A dozen times, I opened my mouth to speak, but words eluded me. Would he get up and leave now? Was this it? How would I ever face him at work, knowing I meant nothing to him while he meant everything to me? He had always meant everything to me.
Following an eternity of silence, he moved over me again. The full weight of his body pinned me to the mattress. I struggled to see his expression in the dim light, but his eyes were heavy-lidded, sheltering his thoughts. When his hand went to the nightstand for another condom, a bevy of butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
He braced an arm on either side of my shoulders, holding his chest well above me. One heartbeat then two before he slid inside me, slowly and gently. A solitary tear oozed from the corner of my eye and slipped onto the pillow. He withdrew and entered me again, savoring the sensation. A wavering sigh escaped my lips. His soft kiss in the hollow above my collarbone filled me with euphoria.
Each long, unhurried stroke of his cock tore away a piece of the wall around my heart. This was Sam making love to me, the way he had when we were married, the way it used to be. I didn’t deserve his kindness or his tenderness, but he was giving it to me anyway. I had the feeling he could no more help himself than I could help loving him.
“You should never have left me,” he said.
“I know,” I replied. When his eyes met mine, filled with fire and longing, I knew it would never be over for me.
CHAPTER 26
Samuel - Now
DAKOTA SIGHED AND shifted beside me. The first rays of morning streamed into the room, shades of gray and lavender and pink bathing the walls with warmth. I turned to face her. My bones felt liquid, dissolved by our marathon of sex. Sleep gave the curves of her face an angelic sweetness. I traced a fingertip over the slope of her upturned nose before dropping a kiss on her mouth.
“Sam,” she whispered, not waking.
The sound of my name on her lips wrung my heart. I turned away from her, swinging my feet onto the floor, and passed a hand across my forehead. I felt weak, exhausted by the emotional back and forth. What began as a revenge fuck had turned into lovemaking, more powerful than any in my experience.
I moved silently about the room to retrieve my clothes. With my back to Dakota, I put on my trousers and shirt, fingers stumbling over the buttons. This had been a huge mistake. I’d wanted to put her in her place, to steal from her everything she’d stolen from me: her self-respect, her happiness, her power over me. All I’d succeeded in doing was opening a door to the past that refused to stay closed and deepening the gash in my heart.
I found my phone in my jacket pocket and called a cab. Rockwell was probably up, but I didn’t want to face him. One look into my eyes, and he’d see the turmoil inside me. I just wasn’t up for that kind of scrutiny, not until I’d had time to sort out my feelings.
Once dressed, I turned to her for the final time. She had rolled onto her back. The sheet puddled around her waist, exposing her breasts and the smooth column of her neck. Asleep, she looked young and vulnerable, the ghost of the girl I’d married. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, chasing away a tangle of longing and regret. Whatever we’d had together still existed. I’d felt it in the brush of her fingers over my back, the softness of her lips on mine, and the way her body had spasmed around me with each of her climaxes.
I moved to cover her, tugging the cotton sheet up to her shoulders. Something fell from the bed onto the floor at my feet, landing with a light plink in the pre-dawn silence. I glanced down. A glimmer of gold winked by my shoe. I bent to retrieve it and lifted it into the air.
At the end of a delicate gold chain hung the thin circlet of my great-great grandmother’s wedding band. My heart stopped beating. I recognized the chain as the one Dakota wore to work every day. How many times had I seen her fingering the necklace while she spoke, all the while unaware of what it held? One of the links had broken, presumably during our sexcapades, and it had slipped from her neck.
I clutched the necklace in my hand until my knuckles ached from the strain. After all this time, she’d kept the ring. I’d given it to her along with my heart, and she’d never returned either one after the divorce. I’d wondered about the ring from time to time over the years but always shoved the thoughts away, unable to endure them for more than the briefest of seconds.
On the bed, Dakota stirred. I panicked and shoved the ring into my pocket before hurrying out the door. I couldn’t face her. Not now. Maybe not ever. There were too many questions cluttering my thoughts and too many emotions warring inside me. Why would she wear the ring every day if I meant so little to her? Why did I care? Why did the vision of my ring nestled between her breasts over the past ten years make me want to wake her and make love to her all over again?
Jesus. I raced out of the apartment and, after pressing the elevator call button a dozen times, opted to take the stairs. I plunged down the steps two at a time. The taxi arrived in front of the building as I exited the door.
“Where we going?” the cabbie asked, eyeing me through the rearview mirror.
I raked a hand through my hair, uncertain of my destination. All I knew was that I needed to get as far away from Dakota as possible before I charged back up the steps and demanded an explanation from her.
“Twenty-first and Elm,” I said, giving the address of my home office. It was the only place I could think to go under duress. At least I’d be alone there on a Saturday morning. I needed time to think, to sort out my feelings, and try to make sense of the chaos. Last night, I’d made love to my ex-wife. She still wore my wedding ring. I still had feelings for her. Hell, I’d never lost my feelings for her. They’d only been dormant, awakened by her presence. If I was to have any peace of mind, I needed to exorcise her from my soul. Somehow, I knew that was never going to happen.
CHAPTER 27
Dakota - Now
I AWOKE MID-morning on Saturday, hovering between dreams and wakefulness. For the briefest of moments, disoriented by the best sleep I’d had in years, I thought Sam and I were still married. I swept a hand over the cool sheets, searching for him. He liked to rise early, while I liked to sleep late. I stretched, enjoying the delicious ache of the aftermath of good sex, before opening my eyes and remembering. A wave of nervous dread chased away the fog in my head.
“Sam?” I sat up, listening for sounds of him. Only the tick-tock of the alarm clock on the dresser and the bark of a neighborhood dog greeted me. Maybe I’d dreamed the whole thing. I rubbed the grit from my eyes, once again feeling the pull of muscles tested by strenuous sex.
The previous day and night came flooding back to me. The meeting with MacGruder. Dinner at Gabriel’s Landing. Sam between
my legs, broad shoulders looming over me as he brought me to release over and over and over. I hadn’t imagined any of it. Desolation filled the spaces between my ribs until I thought my chest might burst. Even though he hated me, he’d made love to me. I covered my face with my hands, unable to face the truth of my emotion. I still loved him. I’d never stopped loving him.
Of course, he’d left. Why would I expect anything else? I meant nothing to him. Our night together had been an exorcism meant to erase me from his soul. Had he succeeded?
On instinct, my fingers went to my neck, seeking the gold chain and my wedding band. It wasn’t there. I jumped from the bed and tossed the pillows to the floor. I never took the necklace off, except to shower. What if Sam had seen it? Would he be angry? I yanked the bedclothes from the mattress and shook the sheets, desperate to find it. I crawled on the floor, searched beneath the bed, and retraced my steps through the apartment, but the necklace was nowhere to be found.
During my frantic hunt, I glanced at the clock and saw it was past nine. I had a brunch date with my mom. We had a standing appointment once a month. Usually, I looked forward to spending time with her, but today, a ripple of anxiety replaced my anticipation. A glance in the bathroom mirror revealed the events of the previous night lined my face. Worried shadows circled my eyes, and no amount of makeup would cover them.
After a hasty shower, I arrived at the diner on time. One look at my face, and Mother knew something was wrong. Being a paragon of patience, she waited until I finished my second cup of coffee before broaching the subject.
“Are you going to tell me about Sam, or do I have to drag it out of you?” she asked finally.
“You know?”
She nodded. “Crockett told me.”
“Traitor,” I grumbled. Eager to change the subject, I said, “I saw Rockwell the other day.”
A warm light brightened her eyes in a way I hadn’t seen for many years. “Rockwell? That sly devil. Where did you see him?”
“He’s still driving Sam around.” I hesitated over Sam’s name. Speaking of him with my mother seemed too familiar and too painful.
“Tell him I said hello, will you?”
“Sure.”
We fell silent for a minute.
“Sam. How is he?” To cushion the importance of her question, she took a biscuit from the basket and began to slather butter on it.
“He’s fine,” I said, couching my expression with caution. “Different. The same. Infuriating.”
“Too much salt,” she said after a bite of her biscuit. I recognized the telltale scrunch of her face as she analyzed the ingredients, and I smiled in spite of my distress. Once a chef, always a chef. “Are you two getting along?”
“Not really.” I sighed and dropped my fork onto the plate, abandoning any idea of eating. “He hates me.”
“Can you blame him?” She met my gaze with the honesty I cherished. “Did you expect anything less, Dakota?” Although her words were tinged with kindness, the truth from her lips hurt me more than I could admit.
“I did a terrible thing, didn’t I?” Tears stung my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but this time one escaped and rolled down my nose. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“By the time I knew what you’d done, it was too late. And you’d already made up your mind, hadn’t you?” She reached across the table to cover my hand with her large one, roughened and reddened by years in the kitchen. “Yes, you did a terrible thing.”
Overcome with emotion, I made a move to leave the booth, but her hand tightened on mine, demanding my surrender. I needed to get out of here before I completely broke down, but she wasn’t going to let me go unless I made a scene. We’d never discussed the details of my divorce, and I didn’t want to now.
“No, Dakota.” Her hand held me firmly in place. “I never said anything before. It was your life and your mistake to make. But I’m going to say my piece, and you’re going to listen.” The wood bench bit into my back, hard and unyielding like her grip. “I know how much you loved him, baby, and it broke my heart to see what you did.” I lowered my head, filled with shame. “That doesn’t mean I love you any less. You did what you thought you had to do. I don’t know your reasons, but I stood by you, and I still do.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I messed up, Mom. I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know what to do.” She must have heard the break in my voice. Before I knew it, she was on my side of the booth, pulling me into her strong arms and holding me the way she had so many years ago.
“You make it right, baby. And you forgive yourself. You can’t keep punishing yourself for something that’s already done.” The clean scent of her soap mingled with the lingering smell of bread, comforting me. “Do the right thing this time, Dakota. I’m so proud of you for becoming such a strong woman. You’ll do what you need to do.”
***
By the time I arrived home, I had several text messages and two missed calls from Muriel. Too unsettled by my ethical and emotional dilemmas, I decided to delay calling her until later. Instead, I grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and plopped my butt onto the couch to try and get my head straight. Mom was right as always. The past couldn’t be repaired, and I would have to live with my mistakes. The future, however, was under my control.
The phone rang again. Muriel’s face splashed across the display. “OMG, you never give up,” I said by way of greeting. “This better be an emergency.”
“It is an emergency,” she said. “I have to go out tonight.”
“No way.” I propped my feet on the coffee table and took a long pull off my beer. “I’m done in, Muriel. I need a break.”
“Exactly,” she said, voice shrill with enthusiasm. “We’re hitting a nightspot. Somewhere exciting. You can’t say no.”
“I can and I just did,” I replied.
“Dakota!” She moaned in consternation. “You never go out anymore. What happened to the fun-loving girl I used to know?”
“Muriel.” I tapped the phone against my forehead in resignation. “Okay. Fine. But I get to choose the place.”
“Perfect. As long as there are hot men there.”
She arrived at my apartment a little after nine, took one look at me, and narrowed her eyes. She swept her gaze from my head to my toes and lifted an eyebrow. I shifted the unruly mass of my hair over my shoulder, while a blush heated my cheeks. She circled me like a hungry vulture. “You got laid last night.”
“You’re crazy,” I said and tossed a lipstick into my purse. “We’d better get downstairs. The taxi will be here any second.”
“I need to get laid,” she said with a dramatic sigh while we waited on the sidewalk. The taxi sped into view, tires squealing around the corner and onto my street. “It’s been forever.”
“How was your interview with Dahlia?” I asked, eager to change the subject. Muriel had been nervous about sitting face to face with the bitch-troll.
“I think it went really well. She seemed interested. Said there are lots of opportunities with Infinity for someone like me.” The broad smile on her face warmed me. “I think I might get a promotion.”
I squealed and threw my arms around her. “Muriel! That’s fantastic. Why didn’t you tell me?” The taxi slid to a stop in front of us. “We have to celebrate.” In spite of my own dilemmas, I was truly happy for her. Sam had come through for her, and I felt a small rush of gratitude toward him.
“I’m telling you now.” She beamed at me, opened the car door, and hopped inside. I followed after her. “So, who’s been slipping you the salami?”
I flushed again, remembering the feel of Sam inside me, the scent of his cologne, and the warmth of his skin against mine. “No one.”
“I suppose you gave yourself that hickey.” She crossed her arms over her lap and sat back in the seat with a satisfied smirk.
“I burned myself with the flat iron,” I said and looked away so she wouldn’t see the lie on my face. I couldn’t talk ab
out it, not yet. It was too personal and still too fresh in my mind. I wanted to keep the memory safe. Speaking about it might fracture the fragile bubble of my sanity.
“Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it,” she said with a shrug.
“Where to?” the driver asked, and I gave him the name of the first place that came to my lips.
I didn’t think Felony Bar was what Muriel had in mind, but that was where we went. Her eyes grew round when our taxi turned down a street lined with debris and graffiti-covered, rundown buildings. She gripped my arm tightly when I led her down the alley to the entrance of the underground club.
“Really?” she asked in her most pretentious voice. “Do I need my mace?”
“Maybe,” I said. With every step further into the building, my mood plummeted a notch. I didn’t want to be here. I needed to be home, beneath my mother’s afghan and with a good book, where I was safe. I had too many things to mull over, none of which I could resolve at Felony.
“This is exciting,” Muriel whispered. “I feel really naughty.”
I laughed in spite of my mood. The rusty steel door creaked when I gave it a shove and led her down the dark hallway. Fog from smoke machines swirled around our feet, lending an eerie vibe to an already creepy place. A tall, muscular guy with biceps the size of my thighs met us at the dance floor.
“You got IDs?” he asked in a deep, raspy voice. We dug in our purses then held up the requisite identification for his perusal. He took a hard look at our faces then handed back the cards. “Go ahead, ladies. Enjoy.”
As we walked away, Muriel turned to watch the guy walk away. “I’m not usually into redheads,” she said, fanning herself with a hand, “but I could make an exception for him.”
“Are you in heat or something?” I asked, not even attempting to hide my irritation. Everything rubbed me the wrong way. It was like wearing a wool sweater with nothing under it. Every comment or gesture from every living thing poked at me.
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