by Piper Lawson
It’d be easy to fall into the past, and I wondered if Sam was feeling that too as she curled up at my side, traced patterns absently in my arm. A decade ago it would’ve been her pen, not her fingers, and the years and her touch—skin on skin—made all the damned difference.
“You never could keep still,” I murmured. She froze, as if realizing for the first time what she was doing.
She started to pull back but I shook my head. “Don’t stop. It feels good.”
The stroking resumed and her slow smile lit me up on the inside, made me feel like I was seventeen and the whole world was ours. “Tell me something. Did you ever get a tattoo?”
Sam shook her head. “What about you.”
“I’m more of a piercing guy.”
The way she’d been running a finger over my wrist stopped. “I thought Max was the one with a piercing.”
“I got one the same night. Solidarity.”
She turned it over in her mind before asking, “Where?” in a voice that was thick with curiosity.
My ears buzzed with the sound of the movie, of her grandmother proclaiming loudly, “Why is he asking if there’s sugar in syrup? Of course there’s sugar in syrup. It’s made of sugar!”
I tuned all of it out. Every inch of me was dialed in on Sam, her knees pulled up between us and brushing the side of my thigh. Her arm pressing against mine. Her cheeks, flushing under the overhead light and making me wonder what else I could do to make her flush.
“Where do you think?” I replied under my breath.
The curiosity on her face transformed into fascination. Her breasts rose under her sweater as she sucked in a breath. A satisfaction I hadn’t known I wanted spread inside my chest.
Most women thought it was a novelty. Intriguing.
I didn’t give a shit what most women thought right now.
I wanted to know what Sam thought.
Whether it made those busy fingers itch for something to distract them.
Whether her eyes would darken if she saw it.
Sam’s dad returned and I excused myself to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to regroup as I stared in the mirror.
I looked the same as always. The bruising from my nose had faded. The light freckles on my pale skin were barely visible thanks to the drink I’d had. My eyes were the same flat blue, like one of Tristan’s fleece blankets.
I shouldn’t be there, but I couldn’t resist the invitation to step into her world. To see how she took care of the people she loved. To steal back a few moments of what we’d had and lost, like Peter Pan trying to return to Neverland.
I found Sam in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher. She glanced up when I entered, her breath catching.
Seeing her here in the quiet reprieve of the kitchen had me doing some reminiscing of Scrooge-like proportions. Even if I couldn’t change what’d happened between us in the past, I was overpowered by the urge to change it. Here. Now.
With my hands and my mouth and my—
“I’ll walk you out,” she murmured.
She walked me to the porch, pulling on her boots and a jacket. “Thank you for the painting,” she said once she’d straightened, turning her face up to mine. “It’s honestly the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”
“You deserve good things, Sam.”
Her gaze scanned the street. “Where’s your car? If someone stole it, I’m going to lose my shit.” Her attention landed on me, alarm melting into indignation I loved to see.
I lifted a shoulder under my coat. “I needed cash. It’s tricky to liquidate assets over the holidays. The banks are closed for days.”
“Wait. You sold it?” she demanded. “You love that car.”
The horror in her voice made me smile. “It’s just a car, Sam. I love Titan more.”
She stepped closer, her eyes searching mine. The sensation that'd been teasing me all night grew, spread.
There was something between us, and I was starting to think I’d be burned from the inside out if we didn’t resolve it.
My fingers itched for contact—something, anything—so I trailed them in the cold snow on the railing. Balled some up. “Know what else I love?”
“What’s that?”
She watched, curious, when I stepped closer…
“Winning.” I dropped the snow down the back of her sweater.
She yelped, cursing my name even as she recovered, dropping to her knees and making her own snowball.
Sam was a survivor. A worthy opponent if there ever was one.
I’d known it then like I knew it now. She had a will to live, an ability to absorb the pain and diffuse it in a way I envied.
We traded blows in the front yard. Taking hits, ducking, gasping and laughing and groaning. She couldn’t reach the back of my neck but she found my collar, wedged a handful of snow down it when I was bent to regroup. I got her back, smashing a snow patty over the top of her head while she squealed.
Minutes or hours later we staggered back to the porch steps, collapsing next to each other.
Her eyelashes blinked, snowflakes melting on them as she turned toward me.
Sam’s breathing came in gasps, each one accompanied by a little shiver from the cold.
“Truce?” I offered.
“Truce,” she panted.
I inched closer until our chests were nearly touching. I smelled her shampoo, and the warmth of her body had me longing to feel her.
The warning in her eyes came out of nowhere. “Riley, we—”
I cut off her protests with my mouth.
This kiss was nothing like the others.
The first time, she’d been admitting a secret.
The second, I’d wanted to prove there was something between us.
This one had no agenda, except as an expression of genuine fucking wanting and the fact that she was right here in front of me and I couldn’t help but have her.
My fingers cradled her face, cold from the winter air as I tipped her chin up. She tasted like cider. My tongue teased her until she opened, and the little sound that escaped when I took her mouth was fucking everything.
I wanted the woman who’d been through hell and come out the other side strong and beautiful and defiant. The one who’d told me her secrets once, trusting me to keep them safe. The one who’d come to my rescue when I didn’t know how to ask for help.
In the space of a breath, she kissed me back.
The porch, the snow, the crisp air melted away. None of them could compete with the taste of her, the feel of her arching to press against me through the layers of clothes.
When she’d kissed me in high school, I hadn’t realized how much shutting her down had cost me. How much I’d regret it.
I poured all of me into this moment. My hands streaked under the back of her sweater, her skin warm under the lingering dampness from the snow. I pulled her harder against me. I wanted her warm and closer, always fucking closer, so she wouldn’t slip away into the darkness like she had last time.
When she pulled back, her expression was dazed. Her lips parted and breathless.
Satisfied, I rose, dusting myself off as I offered her my hand to tug her up after me.
“Merry Christmas, Sam,” I whispered before grazing my lips once more against her soft cheek and turning to take both porch stairs at once.
18
Dirty mouth
Christmas was a glorious day.
Not because I was with family, though that was part of it.
At the kitchen table, with Emily giggling over Cheerios at one end, my mom dishing up pancakes, Annie making mimosas, and my dad and Grace arguing over politics on video chat, I let my mind wander.
The night before on Sam’s porch, I’d forgotten all about the damned car because her mouth had been under mine and it’d been a beautiful thing. We’d been in our own world, our body heat keeping out the cold.
I played it out, imagining pressing Sam into the warped wood boards of the porch, my hands
sliding under all her clothes, and…
I shook myself out of my daydream, reminding myself I was in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by family and laughter and coffee.
After breakfast we opened presents. Then Annie relented and called her boyfriend—who was visiting his family out of state—on her iPad. I gave her three minutes of quality time before I wrenched it from her hands and proceeded to ask horrifically invasive questions while she tackled me from behind. “Get your own girlfriend! Or boyfriend! Leave mine alone,” she grunted.
When the sound of Closer by Tegan and Sara edged into my mind as we were into our second mimosas, my eyes locked with Annie’s.
“What the—is that your phone? Who’s calling?”
I lunged for the table and she followed me.
I tripped over one of Emily’s toys and she got there first. I was already regretting the ringtone when Annie answered the phone.
“Hello?” I reached for it and she held it away, rounding the couch. “Who am I speaking with?” she grinned. “Oh. Sam Martinez!” Her fingers dug into the back of the couch near Grace’s head as she stared at me knowingly. “Hi, Sam. Yep, he’s here. You want to talk to him?”
I grabbed the phone from her and flipped her off. She grinned and flopped back onto the couch, waggling her fingers after me as I retreated to the kitchen.
“Sam. Hey.”
“Was that Annie?”
“Yep. Charming as ever.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you guys.”
“It’s okay, what’s up?”
I shoved up the sleeves of my sweater, the knit Christmas tree that sprawled across my chest. My sisters and I had a running competition to find the most heinous holiday garment.
“I was thinking about what you said about not making payroll for Titan. I had an idea. What if we did an auction?” Her voice bubbled with excitement as I tried to keep up.
“Like a bachelor auction?”
“No! An art auction. I have the sketches we didn’t send Epic for Phoenix. The pencil drawings that were the prototypes.”
“Sam, that’s genius. People love collectible shit.” It wouldn't resolve all our cash flow issues, but it was a great idea to rally support for the film and build some hype. “There are a couple of platforms we could use to upload. They do crowdfunding and auctions and things like that. I could send the idea to our marketing manager. She’ll be all over it when she gets back to work next week.”
“Then what are you going to drive all week?”
Her thoughtfulness had my chest tightening as I grinned. “I dunno, babe. I’ll rent a Kia.”
I heard her breathe into the phone for a moment before she responded. “No. Come over tomorrow. We can post the drawings then. Maybe if they do well enough you can get your car back sooner.”
The fact that Sam had been thinking about it, worried about it, touched me.
“Sure,” I said finally. “Sounds good.”
I rose from my chair, crossing to the kitchen to pour a whiskey. Much better than the mimosas, but I didn’t like to hurt Annie’s feelings. “How long are your grandparents here?”
“Until tomorrow. My dad’s driving them to the airport. He’ll probably wait with them until their flight.”
I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. “It was fun hanging out with them last night.”
“Yeah. Last night.” Her voice dropped like she didn’t want to be overheard.
I found a pair of slippers by the kitchen door and stepped into them, glancing over my shoulder before I turned the handle quietly as I could and stepped outside. The bright sun reflected off the snow on our back patio, blinding me as I pulled the door shut behind me.
“Speaking of,” I started, “that was some kiss, Sam.”
The cold raised the hairs on my arms and legs but it wasn’t enough to put a stop to the desire I was feeling.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “It was.”
“If you knew what was going through my head last night when I got home…”
“Tell me.”
I don't know which turned me on more, the fact that she wanted to know or that she told me so in that voice that was a little breathless and a lot demanding.
I can talk dirty with the best of them, but right now, my brain felt overstimulated, unable to think or process.
“I want to tease you. Until you’re begging me to take you. Wherever I want. However I want.”
When I heard her trembling breath, it amped me up even more. I wasn’t myself, but I couldn’t stop playing this out. I was handcuffed, the only weapon at my disposal against this mess was the same one that’d got me into it: this insatiable desire that had erupted from nowhere. That was taking me over a little more every day.
“I want to touch you. I want to slide my fingers inside you, to fill you up with me, and watch your eyes when I do it. So you know I’m the one responsible for everything you feel. And I know exactly how good it is.” Pleasure coursed through me, and something darker and unfamiliar. I could feel her arousal over the phone like a living thing.
When she spoke, her voice sounded like it’d been scraped over sandpaper. “I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, Lee.”
“I’d love to fuck you with it, Sam.”
A noise escaped her throat and I wished to hell she was here so I could press her back against the door, kiss her until we were both dizzy and she was squirming against me. I could taste her mouth, smell her shampoo.
Feel how tight she was around me.
A dog barked—the neighbors’—and I jolted.
I needed to stop before I started humping the siding.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“We’ll put those pictures up online tomorrow.”
She blew out a slow breath. “Okay. I’ll text you when my dad leaves.”
I let myself back inside, kicking off my slippers and downing the rest of the whiskey stepping into the living room only to realize everyone was staring at me.
“Were you having phone sex with Sam Martinez out there?” Annie demanded as I reached for my mimosa on the coffee table.
I straightened. “Did you hear me?”
“NO! Oh God, it was a joke!” she shrieked.
I dropped into the empty wing chair, not bothering to look contrite. Grace snorted while Emily happily played with blocks on the floor. My mom smiled and Jeremy shook his head, going back to reading his paper.
19
Know me
I couldn’t remember twenty-four hours passing so slowly. Normally the holiday flew by but this year, exchanging well wishes with neighbors and answering emails had never felt as painful.
I’d just finished working out at the climbing gym—thankfully open for a few hours Boxing Day—when Sam’s text came through.
* * *
Sam: You around? Want to work on that auction?
* * *
Riley: Yes
* * *
That was a lie.
I wanted to find her, strip every single piece of clothing that came between us, and lose myself in her until I couldn’t remember my birthday or social security number.
I took an Uber across town, my fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the door handle.
I leaped out of the car, the cold air stinging my throat as I sucked in a breath. The yard looked the same as it had when we were kids. Some shrubs, bare for the winter. Withered grass.
I briefly debated which door to use. Decided on the back.
This time I knocked.
The seconds ticked by.
I stared at the frost etching patterns on the glass of the screen door.
Finally it opened, and I looked up.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Sam’s hair fell in waves around her face, and I wondered if she’d done something different to it. Her face was flushed and hopeful and a little guilty.
She was an angel.
One I intended to thoroughly corrupt.<
br />
Her green sweater slid low over one bare shoulder. Under that, she wore shorts. I wanted to chide her for having bare legs in the freezing cold doorway.
Or fuck her until she was warm everywhere.
She stepped back and I crossed into the kitchen, the door banging shut behind me.
The music playing in the background was upbeat. Something indie. Definitely not slow jam stuff.
I couldn’t have cared less.
I wanted to tell her I’d been thinking about her all week. That I’d spent an hour last night negotiating with myself over whether I was going to get off to the memory of her, or hold out for the real thing.
In the end, I’d held out. I mean, I’d been not-screwing-Sam for over a decade. I’d gotten pretty good at it.
I kicked off my boots. Stripped off my jacket, setting it on the kitchen table.
“So. You want to look at that auction? I made up digital files of the images.”
No.
“Sure.”
It took every ounce of control in me to lower myself into the chair next to hers as she opened her iPad.
The flush of her cheeks was the most perfect pink. The rise and fall of her breasts under the thin sweater was hypnotic. I could’ve watched it all damned day.
I tried to breathe through my mouth so I didn’t have to deal with the scent of her shampoo taking over my brain.
“Is that it?” she asked once we'd written a description, inserted pictures of the drawings, and sent the link out on social media.
“Yeah. We’ve set the auction to run until New Years’. Our marketing manager will check in later today and she can take care of promoting it. But the fact that I sent it from Titan’s account means it’ll get a lot of eyes already.”
“That’s great.”
“Sam, thanks for doing this. But for the record, you get that I’m not broke, right? If I want a new car, I can afford it. I need to call my investment guy and I don't want to bug him in Hawaii this week.”
Her mouth twitched. “Yeah, I get that.”
“Just wanted to clear that up.”
