“Look, I’ll turn around, okay?”
“Ugh. Whatever.” I quickly dry off before grabbing my pajamas, which are thankfully on the toilet seat and not on the counter, which he’s leaning his hip against like he hasn’t a care in the freaking world.
I pull my soft sleep shorts up my legs, tug on the matching bralette, and frown. I may as well have stayed naked for how well these cover me. And of course, my robe is in my room.
“You done, Luna? It’s late and I’d like to get some sleep.”
“By all means, go. Go sleep. I’m not stopping you.”
“That mouth,” he murmurs, the low, raspy sound sends a bolt of lust right between my thighs. “I’m turning around in five whether you’re dressed or not. Five... four... three...”
“Give it a freaking rest, I’ve got clothes on.”
Samson whirls around and immediately chokes on his tongue when he sees me. “Fucking barely,” he growls, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.
Despite still being wet, my entire body heats under his appraisal. He looks almost feral, like he’s barely restraining himself from reaching for me, as he takes me in. The sad thing is, even though I’m furious with him, if he were to make his move right now... I’d probably let him.
“Are we going to talk in here or can we maybe go somewhere with a little more space?”
He cracks the door open and pokes his head out. Once he’s satisfied that the coast is clear, he opens it fully and ushers me through. “After you.”
I brush past him, making sure to put a little extra sway in my hips as I lead him down the hall to my room, where we’ll be totally alone.
He groans and I grin. A case of blue balls is the least he owes me.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks as I climb up onto my bed.
I snuggle down into the covers and toss him an unimpressed look. “I don’t know, Samson. Was ambushing me while I was naked in the shower a good idea?”
“Well, last time I tried talking to you didn’t go so well.”
I gasp, pressing my right hand over my heart. “You mean when you cornered me at a party and demanded to know if I was drinking?” I scrunch my nose. “I already have an older brother... not really in the market for another.”
He growls and steps closer to the bed. So close his knees brush the mattress. “Not your fucking brother.”
“Or do you mean at dinner the other night when you brought me flowers, like they’d fix everything you broke?” I rub my head against my pillow until it’s just right. “I threw them away… in case you were wondering.”
A lie—I kept them on my bedside table until they wilted and died, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Did you even read the letter?”
“Yep, read every single word.”
“And?” he asks, his expression stupidly hopeful.
“And not a single thing you wrote down is enough to erase the hurt you caused. Words on a page don’t mean a thing—”
He’s on me in a flash, with one knee pressed onto the bed and his arms caging me against the headboard. “Cut the shit, Luna.”
I tremble at his nearness, at the fierce look in his eyes, at the way he looks like he wants to devour me whole.
“Samson,” I whisper his name, and it’s like something inside of him snaps. He lunges for me, claiming my lips in a bruising kiss.
I should push him away, tell him to leave, to stay away from me. I should scream and shout until my dad comes up here and throws him out.
I know I should, and yet the second our lips meet, all the reasons I’m mad at him slip away, leaving me full of an aching need that only his touch can fix.
His tongue swipes over the seam of my lips, begging for entry and like the stupid lovesick girl I am, I open to him.
He slides his tongue into my mouth, tangling it with my own as he climbs fully onto the bed, settling his broad body between my legs. I can feel his erection, even through all of the layers separating us.
I slide my hands through his too-long hair, tugging on the strands in pleasure when he nips at my lower lip.
He breaks our kiss, moving his attention to my jaw and neck. “Fuck, Luna,” he murmurs against my lust-drenched skin. “You feel so good.”
I whimper and he presses his hips harder into mine, rolling them in a way that has me shifting and squirming in search of the release my body so desperately craves.
We move together in torturous harmony; our bodies in sync even if we aren’t.
“Stella.” The way he moans my name, deep and low, sends a shiver rolling through me. “Tell me to stop,” he pleads, brushing his nose along the column of my neck.
“I can’t.” I exhale a shaky breath and draw his lips back to mine. “Just kiss me. Kiss me like there isn’t an ocean of hurt between us. Kiss me like I’m the only thing that matters.”
His brow creases as he cups my cheek, his calloused fingers tickling my skin. “Don’t you get it, Luna? You are the only thing that matters.” His lips feather over mine, but before he can deepen the kiss, I push him away.
He goes willingly, rolling so that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet planted on the floor. “Stella.”
I give him a sad smile. “You should go.”
With a slow, resigned nod, Samson stands, not bothering to hide the way his erection strains against his jeans. “This isn’t over,” he says, heading for the door.
I pull the covers up to my chin. “It never started.”
After a night of fitful sleep, I’m up with the sun. My dreams were plagued by memories of the man I used to love... that I still love, if I’m being honest. But I’ve been lying to myself for the last nine months, that I was over him, so why stop now?
One kiss—one soul-shattering kiss—isn’t going to change the irreparable damage between us.
We had a plan... an agreement. A promise, and he broke it when he left me.
My body may be eager for his touch, but my heart remembers the pain he left in his wake.
I’m not prone to making the smartest decisions when it comes to Samson Carter. He makes me crazy and desperate and reckless.
Which is why I’m up before everyone else. Avoidance is the name of the game; he can’t corner me if he can’t find me.
I crawl out of bed and swap my pajamas for a two-piece swimsuit and a pair of jean shorts before tiptoeing to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I throw my hair up into a messy bun and toss my flip-flops into my bag so they don’t make noise while I sneak down the stairs.
I’m tempted to make a pot of coffee, but with the guest bedroom being on the first floor, I decide not to risk it. I leave a quick note for my parents and then slip out the back door.
It’s not even six in the morning and it feels like it’s a million degrees outside, but the destination I have in mind is tucked away, with plenty of shade. It’s perfect for a lazy day of hiding... I mean relaxing.
The cold lake water tickles my toes as I creep down the shore to where we store our canoes. I grab the first one I see and pull it behind me. Once I’m knee-deep, I climb in.
My oar slices through the water, as I think about everything and nothing all at once. My brain feels like it’s going to explode, like I need a sign on my forehead—caution, contents under pressure.