He grimaced as he shifted the bag. “More than hurt, actually. I was wrecked.”
“Give my French fries back.” She tried to snatch them away. “Go downstairs and beg somebody who cares for some ice.”
He tossed the fries to the side and grabbed her wrists. Before she could even think about reacting, he had her flat on her back on the couch with his body pinning hers down. “Is that your bitchy way of saying you don’t care about me?”
“If I cared about you, I probably wouldn’t have dumped your ass at the altar, would I?”
“Ouch.” He shifted on top of her and she forced herself to ignore how parts of him were rubbing against parts of her. Or tried to, anyway. “You panicked and you ran and I’ve spent the last five years hating myself for standing there and watching you go. I could have caught you before you hit the main doors.”
“Bullshit.”
“In those heels you were wearing? It would have been like sacking a third-string rookie quarterback.”
“A third-string rookie quarterback wouldn’t drive a three-inch heel through your—”
He shut her up with his mouth. She stiffed and jerked her wrists out of his hands so she could put them on his shoulders. The intention was to push him off, hopefully onto the floor, but her hands felt those familiar muscles and slid around to his back, holding him close. All the tension left her body as five years of longing burned through the kiss.
“I should have gone after you,” he said against her lips.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“It would have changed everything.” He lifted his head so he could see her eyes. “You loved me.”
“Don’t go there, Sam. What was it you said? You’re just a businessman from Boston and I’m the saucy serving wench who struck your fancy. That’s all we’ve got going on here.”
He kissed her neck, just below and behind her earlobe in the spot he’d long ago discovered drove her wild. “You’re lying.”
She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the delicious shivers playing with her spine. “Nothing. Has. Changed.”
“Everything’s changed.” He licked at the spot, then blew gently on the moist skin. “I know what you want now.”
“I want this life, not yours.”
“I’m not trying to take you away from your life. I’m asking for a chance to be a part of it.”
She wanted so desperately to believe that. But the real problem, which he seemed to be ignoring, was not whether or not Sam Logan fit into Paulie Reed’s life. It was whether or not Paulie Reed fit into the life of Samuel Thomas Logan the Fourth. No matter how hard he pushed, Paulette Atherton wasn’t coming back.
He kissed her again, a soft and gentle kiss that made her heart tumble, and then he looked down at her. “Just give me a chance, Paulie. We can make this work.”
What the hell, she thought as she pulled him back down for another kiss. She’d left him once and survived. If things hadn’t changed as much as he claimed, she could do it again.
He slid one of his hands between them and tried to tug up her shirt, but she grabbed his wrist. “Doesn’t your face hurt?”
“Not as much as my body aches for you.”
There was no resisting that, so she yanked the hem of her T-shirt out of her jeans. “Let me help you with that.”
***
No matter how Beth crunched the numbers, she couldn’t justify anything short of working right up until the minute her water broke. She’d been diligent about saving every spare penny, but being pregnant was expensive, even with only half the medical bills.
Prenatal vitamins and additions here and there to her wardrobe, though Paulie’s gift had definitely helped out there. She was trying to eat better, which cost a lot more than eating junk—and she had to lay off Jasper burgers or she was going to be pretty damn sad when she finally had the baby and the excess weight didn’t magically fall off. Then there was the adorable stuffed lamb she’d had to buy even though it wasn’t on sale.
A knock on the door made her jump, but the flush she felt heating her cheeks had less to do with being startled than it did with the probability it was Kevin in the hallway.
She didn’t know if it was the hormones or the excess cheeseburgers in her diet or what, but she’d been having some steamy dreams lately. Steamy and explicit and relentlessly hot. All starring the guy next door—or across the hall, actually.
After scooping up her bank statements and bills and shoving them back in the drawer, she did her best to stifle her raging libido and opened the door.
Why did he have to be so damn good-looking? And why did she have to go and sleep with him? Twice. Abstinence was a hell of a lot harder when you knew what you were missing.
“You okay?” he asked. “You look a little flustered.”