And I found out that morning, just with the little I did with Sam, that Cooter wasn’t very good at what he did and even with experience with me and whoever else he slept with along the way, he didn’t get any better. And this was true even before he started hitting me which made me want nothing to do with my husband touching me.
The sorry fact was, I never really enjoyed sex with Cooter. I tried but never got there. We had our moments, sure. But they were few and they caused no fireworks. Sparklers, maybe, but those sputtered out and died.
There was a pocket of time I tried to be all I could be for Cooter in bed in hopes that would make him happy enough so he would be less inclined to get pissed and take it out on me.
This did not work and I quit trying.
But it stood to reason that Cooter went to Vanessa and any of the other women he might or might not have cheated on me with those times he was late home because it was actually me who wasn’t good at it. I was not his first but he was my first and only and he didn’t exactly take his time to teach me nor did he make our bed a safe place to learn.
And it was clear with the first kiss Sam and I had shared that I didn’t know what I was doing. Just with kissing. So the rest of it might be even worse.
And that couldn’t happen.
It couldn’t.
After the last twenty-four hours with Sam, it couldn’t end like that.
The horrible kiss was humiliating enough, if I couldn’t satisfy Sam in bed that would be mortifying.
And by the time we got to my door, I’d convinced myself that was what was going to happen. That hot kiss with Sam this morning and the one five minutes ago were flukes.
And I couldn’t tell him this. I couldn’t explain any of this.
“Baby, your key?” Sam prompted as I stood staring at the door, trying to figure out how to get out of having sex with Sam and how to talk him into being my hot guy friend that I made out with twice instead.
My head jerked up to look at him then it jerked down and I pulled my purse off my shoulder, dug inside and came out with my key.
Whether it was because Sam saw my hands shaking (and they were) or he was just being Sam, he slid it gently from my fingers, unlocked the door, pushed it open and held it for me to precede him.
I didn’t want to but I did.
Sam followed me and the door closed behind him.
I stopped breathing and my stomach clutched.
Sam hit the light switch and several lights came on around the room.
That jolted me to action.
“Sam –” I started but he was right there, his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, pulling me in and tilting my head back with his thumb at my jaw.
His face was so close, it was all I could see when he whispered, “Breathe, baby, just breathe. Stay with me, two minutes, stay with me. Then I promise to make it okay.”
Two minutes?
He promised to make it okay?
“Promise me you’re gonna stay with me,” he ordered.
I bit my lip.
Two minutes.
I could do that. Right?
I nodded.
He let me go instantly and moved around the room, turning off all the lights but one by the bed.
Then he came to me and guided me to the bed.
Oh no.
“Sam –” I began again.
“Baby, you promised.”
I did.
I shut up.
He turned me and gently pressed me to seat me at the side of the bed. Then he bent, hooked a hand behind my knee, lifted my leg and slipped off my sandal. Repeat with the other one. Then he sat down beside me.
I sucked in breath.
“One more minute, Kia,” he said gently.
I turned my head to him and nodded again.
He pulled off his boots and socks.
Then he turned to me and in a smooth, swift movement, he wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me up the bed so we were lying perpendicular across the middle of it, both down to our sides, facing each other.
Okay, no.
No.
I didn’t know how much time was left on Sam’s two minutes but I had to break my promise.
And that was why I whispered, “I don’t think I can –”
His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb out to press lightly on my lips and he whispered back, “You don’t have to Kia. I can.”
I shook my head and, even with his thumb still at my lips, I told him, “I’m not… I don’t think I’m good at this.”
“Trust me.”
Oh God.
No way!
I could not fuck this up. It would ruin everything and the everything we already had was everything.
I could live without having more. At that point, I was sure of it.
“Sam –”
His hand went from my jaw to trail down my shoulder, my arm, my wrist and down to my hand. He pulled it to him, dipping it under his shirt then sliding it up and my fingers hit his hot, sleek skin.
The grip my panicked thoughts had on my mind instantly released as it registered the feel of his skin. The muscle under it was hard, solid, but the skin was so warm it was hot and so soft it was silky.
It felt nice. Very nice.
Sam’s mouth touched mine gently as his hand moved mine up the skin of his side, taking his shirt with it and the added lip touch was sweet.
“I’m gonna take care of you,” Sam whispered against my lips.