Sam met her, his tongue tangling with hers, his grip tightening. And suddenly they were moving. Sam had her firmly anchored with one arm around her waist. He was pushing her back, through the open bathroom door, and up against the sink. With his boot, he kicked the door shut. One hand slid down her back, to her hip, and his fingers sank into her flesh, kneading it, sparking a fire that flamed through all of her.
He lifted Libby up and sat her on the edge of the sink, slipping in between her legs. She wrapped a leg around him as he pressed his erection against her. He slid his hand up under her sweater, over her bare skin, to her breast, filling his hand with it.
Sam’s touch renewed Libby, made her feel as if she’d been dragged out from behind the weeds, made to stand in the sun again. She felt desirable, felt all of the senses she thought dulled come alive. His kiss was demanding, but at the same time soft and reverent. He cupped her chin, ran his hand over her hair. He drew her lip in between his teeth, swept his tongue in her mouth.
Libby wanted more, wanted to feel him inside her.
Feel him inside her?
Sam Winters?
What was she thinking? What about . . . what about everything else? Everything else began to fade away, disappearing beneath the sensations she was experiencing in Sam’s arms.
Sam cupped her face in both hands, brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. He didn’t speak, just gazed into her face and eyes as if he was trying to work something out.
He dropped his gaze to the V of her sweater. He dipped down, kissed the hollow of her throat, and traced a wet path to the top of her breasts, then in the valley between them.
Libby was completely drawn in, her body supple and wet. Sam suddenly moved up, kissed her again, kissed her forehead, and then dropped his hands to the sink on either side of her, bracing himself there, putting himself at eye level with her.
“That’s twice now,” he said.
“Twice that you’ve kissed me?”
“Twice that you’ve kissed me.”
She smiled.
“It’s not going to happen again, Libby.”
She looked at his lips. The desire was swirling around in her, a confusing mix of not wanting and wanting him at the same time. “I know,” she said breathlessly, and trailed her fingers down his Adam’s apple, to the open collar of his shirt. “I was just about to tell you the same thing. Stop kissing me.”
“Then we’re on the same page.” He kissed her again, and Libby slid her arms around his neck.
When she lifted her head, she said, “It’s like the worst thing that could happen, you and me.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, and ran his knuckles across her collarbone before nuzzling her ear as his hand reached for her breast again. “So go on, get out of here.”
“Oh, I’m going,” she said, and slid her hands over his shoulder, down his chest, to his waist. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”
Sam put a hand to her waist and pulled her off the sink. But he was still blocking her way to the door, and his hand was still on her breast. Libby kissed the skin beneath his open collar, felt his pulse beneath her lips, the warmth of his skin, and then pushed him aside. She walked to the bathroom door and glanced at him over her shoulder. He was leaning with one hip against the sink, his head lowered, his gaze devouring her.
She took him in, every delicious inch of him. “I must be truly crazy,” she said with a small shake of her head.
“And it must be contagious.”
Libby grinned. “See you around, Lone Ranger,” she said, and straightened her sweater, opened the door, and walked out of that room, her body still thrumming with desire.
FIFTEEN
In the few days that followed the Kendrick party, Libby busied herself getting the ranch ready for the final inspection by Gary, Austin and Gary’s mother, Martha. Tony had not yet finished Libby’s car—he’d had to send off for a part, but was vague about which one, or how much it cost, or where it was coming from. “I know a guy out by Durango,” was all he would say.
That meant Libby hadn’t been to town except once, and that was in the backseat of Madeline’s SUV, while Madeline and Luke rode up front, giggling like a pair of teenagers, their hands on each other’s legs.
Sometimes, Libby felt as if the whole world was a couple, spinning around her and laughing in couple-speak while she worked.
The feel of Sam’s hands was still tingling on her skin and in her memory.
It all made for a very confusing mix of emotions. Libby didn’t want to be intrigued by the physical response Sam had aroused in her, but she was. She kept reliving those moments in the bathroom, and in the hall here at the ranch, and imagining more intimate moments with Sam.
But on the other hand, she had loved Ryan, and she still desperately loved the children. Their faces kept coming back to her, their smiles flying through her thoughts.