It was a feeling I registered and understood when I was six years old.
It was the feeling I used to have all the time, every second of every minute of my life but I understood it when my Dad took my brother Kyle and me to that haunted house.
I’d been terrified, completely, even though, looking back, it was meant for little kids like me so it was seriously tame. But I’d never experienced anything like it until then.
And as I wandered through that haunted house with Dad and Kyle, monsters popping out, the bloody bride and groom gruesomely murdered on their blessed day, I got more and more scared when, suddenly, my father took my hand and that feeling of fear evaporated completely.
Dad was with me. Dad was close.
I was safe.
Dad wouldn’t allow anything to harm me. Not monsters. Not zombie brides.
Nothing.
And I felt that upon waking, I felt it again for the first time in ages.
I opened my eyes and saw the corded, dark-skinned column of a man’s throat and I felt my legs tangled with long, heavy ones, my arm resting around a man’s waist, my other hand pressed to a hard chest and two strong arms around me, holding me close to a solid, steady heat.
I tipped my head back and saw Sam’s head tipped slightly forward, his eyes closed, his handsome face relaxed, his power at rest and I stared, immobile, such was his beauty. His eyelashes were black, short and spiky but they were thick, so many of them, their fan seemed a unit, not individual lashes and, instantly, I was transfixed.
Then, as they had a tendency to do, memories washed through my head taking my mind away from feeling warm, comfy, safe and fascinated by Sam’s eyelashes and forcing it to last night.
I tipped my head down and, I didn’t know why but automatically my body sought more contact with his by pressing forward.
When it did, Sam’s arms convulsed, going tight and staying that way a moment before they partially released. My head tipped back again, thinking I woke him but he was still asleep.
He was still asleep.
This meant Sampson Cooper hugged in his sleep.
Oh man.
I sighed.
Then I closed my eyes tight and sifted through my memories of last night.
*
After I giggled myself silly at Luci’s cars while Sam watched and smiled, he took me back to the party. Thus commenced me meeting a variety of Luci’s friends and acquaintances, very few who Sam knew, almost all of whom knew Sam. I did this while drinking and, several times, Sam led us to the dining room where Luciana had indeed put out a spread.
Even though the food looked gorgeous, luckily Celeste had primed me for this so I nibbled and enjoyed rather than gorged myself which was probably what I would have done not having lunch or dinner.
Before my fifth glass of champagne, I realized a number of things.
One, I was having fun.
Two, Sam did not leave my side.
Three, he did this not in an overbearing way but in a way that simply said he liked being there.
Four, I liked this, like, a lot.
Five, Sam was funny in a dry, blunt, observational way.
Six, because of this, I laughed a lot.
Seven, Sam thought I was funny and I knew this because he also laughed a lot.
Eight, I liked it when Sam laughed mostly because it sounded good, he looked beautiful doing it but also because he was making a habit of touching me when he did, either sweeping an arm around my waist and pulling me tight to his side or sweeping an arm around my waist, his other arm joining it, pulling me tight to his front and holding me close.
Nine, Luci liked it that Sam and I were laughing and touching a lot and I knew this because, either when she was with us or she was across the room, any time I noticed her, she was smiling at us like a happy sister who, after years of putting up with her brother’s girlfriends who she loathed, she’d finally met her soul mate who she could shop with, gossip with and instigate regular margarita nights and get drunk with.
And ten, Luci’s friends and acquaintances were awesome. I knew this because they were obviously rich, obviously well-traveled, obviously well-educated but they were also nice, welcoming, entertaining and easy to talk to. I also knew this because I caught her friends openly and often glancing her way with concern on their faces. She wasn’t hiding anything from them either and they were worried. I liked this too even though I didn’t like the reason they were feeling it.
But after glass of champagne number five, Sam handed me glass of champagne number six which, with the bottle I shared with Celeste, was actually glass of champagne number nine.
And, I learned last night, that was one glass too many.