“Sam, I’m not following.”
“You disagreed with me, you faced your fears, you told me what was on your mind. We disagreed, we talked, we listened. You said you feel safe with me but, Kia, honey, you don’t believe in it. Just now, you took another step toward believing and I gotta tell you, baby, it feels unbelievably fuckin’ good every time you do it when you place a little more trust in me.”
Oh my God.
That was so beautiful. So sweet.
So Sam.
My body swayed into his as my hands that were resting on his waist slid around to wrap around his back and I whispered, “Sam,” but said nothing else because I couldn’t find the words to say.
His hands left my neck and his arms folded around me as he promised quietly, “I’ll earn it all, baby.”
I pressed my lips together, nodded then dipped my chin and did a face plant in his chest.
Sam kissed the top of my head.
And just as I suspected I would never get used to him being so hot, I suspected I would never get used to him being so sweet.
And I really hoped I didn’t.
“We better join the others. Even though I got a week’s allowance of fat sittin’ in my gut, I don’t think it’d be good to dis your Mom on the parfaits at this juncture,” Sam noted, I pulled my face out of his chest and tilted it back to look at him, grinning.
“You would be correct,” I confirmed then asked with curiosity, “You count fat?”
Sam burst out laughing.
I watched and waited patiently for him to finish.
He finally did then answered, telling me something I already knew, “Baby, this body does not come naturally.” Letting me go with one arm but sliding the other one up to my shoulders, he moved to my side before he propelled us to the doors. “But I don’t count fat. You don’t have to count fat to know you’re consuming too much when you eat half a dozen onion rings and go through three napkins doin’ it in order to sop up all the grease.”
He was not wrong about that.
“Told you Mom was a comfort cook,” I muttered as he pushed one of the doors to the dining room open, I pushed the other one and we walked through.
“You did not lie,” I muttered back.
We walked through the dining room and the kitchen but at the backdoor I pulled him to a halt then curled into him and caught his eyes.
“Were you okay with before?” I asked quietly.
“Which before, baby?” he asked back and I laughed softly.
“Well, not the emotional scene with my Dad or the tense scene with Ozzie, the before where half of Heartmeadow came to check you out.”
“Am I slidin’ in bed beside you tonight?” Sam asked and I blinked.
“Uh… I think so.”
Where else would he sleep?
His face dipped closer, “If the answer to that is yes, then yes, I’m okay with half of Heartmeadow coming to check me out.”
There it was again. So damned sweet.
I slid my hand up his chest to curl my fingers around his neck and warned, “You’re also sliding into bed with Memphis and, head’s up, she seems really small but in a bed she expands to five times her size.”
Sam smiled at me. “I think I’ll cope.”
“Good.”
“Your bed is queen-size, Kia, my bed is king. Eventually, Memphis will have plenty of room.”
Sam, me and Memphis in a huge bed where everyone had plenty of room.
That sounded like heaven.
I smiled back.
Mom threw open the door and ordered, “Scooch! It’s parfait time.” Then she hustled Sam and I out of her way, continuing to issue orders, “Kia, sweetie, get the ice cream and nuke it. Thirty seconds, then check. You might need another fifteen. And grab ten bowls, Ozzie is still here.”
“Right, Mom.” I started to move away but Sam caught my hand and I looked back to see his brows raised.
“Nuke it?” he asked quietly.
“Mom doesn’t like hard ice cream so she nukes it soft.”
Sam stared at me.
Then he shook his head.
Then he bent it to touch his mouth to mine.
His mouth barely landed before I heard Teri shout, “Hot!”
He lifted his head and I was relieved to see his eyes smiling.
Then he let me go and walked outside.
I walked to the freezer to get the ice cream.
Chapter Fifteen
Don’t Cross This Line
It was late morning and Memphis and I were in my kitchen with a roll of masking tape and a marker.
Sam was at Vanessa’s.
I was a mess.
My mess was multifaceted.
It was partially because I woke up at two o’clock in the morning, ready to face the day. I tossed, turned, Memphis yapped, I tossed more, turned more and finally decided to go and toss and turn on the couch so I didn’t toss and turn Sam awake. I’d just thrown the covers aside and lifted up when a steel band-like arm hooked around my belly and I found myself on my back in bed with a hot guy mostly on top of me.
“Jetlag?” Sam asked.
“Yep,” I answered.