Sam could feel a head of steam building inside him. But he didn’t know if he’d be brave enough to let it out. “There’s a Douglas Fairbanks picture at the Strand. A swashbuckler. You love those.”
Evie closed one eye. “You’re telling me not to lose hope because there are pirate pictures?”
“I’m trying here, Baby Vamp. When you’re facing evil, a good pirate picture doesn’t hurt.”
Evie’s mouth twitched into a bit of a smile, but she fought it. She liked hearing Sam’s list, and she didn’t want him to stop. “What else?”
“Nah. I’ve told you already.”
“Oh, please. Just one more.”
Sam cocked his head. “Just one more, huh?”
“Yeah. But make it a really good one.”
“A good one.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Sam’s heart thudded against his ribs. He was dizzy.
“Then how about this.”
And with that, he leaned forward and kissed her. Evie put a hand to her lips and stared at Sam.
“Um. You might say something here. Or slap me. Hoping it’s not that, though,” Sam joked, and swallowed hard.
“How do I know that’s real?” Evie said after she’d caught her breath.
“Let me prove it.” Sam kissed her again, longer this time.
And for the first time that night, Evie did feel loved. Sam wasn’t telling her to act more like a “good girl.” He didn’t want her to be anybody but who she was. Why had she tortured herself by not letting him in?
“I’m still not convinced,” Evie said. Her head buzzed. “You… you might have to make your case more strongly.”
Sam’s grin was wolfish, but inside he was balloons and champagne, a full goddamn birthday party. “Sure thing, Lamb Chop.”
Evie put a finger to Sam’s lips and frowned. “I believe I have made my feelings about that name plain.”
Sam licked up the length of her finger, drawing a gasp from her. “What can I say? I’m a naughty boy.”
“How naughty?”
“Would you like to find out?”
Evie knew she should come back with a quip, but everything felt too real right now. She needed to be real with someone. “I would. But I’m afraid of what I’ll find out. I just need something that doesn’t feel like a lie.”
“Okay.” Sam swallowed hard, took a deep breath. “Then here it is: All the times I say, ‘Don’t see me’? With you, I wish I had an opposite power: See me. See me, Evie. See all of me. There’s a fella who loves you right here. I’m not perfect. I’m a handful. But you know what? So are you. There. Not sugarcoating it.”
“But… what if I love you and you go away?” Evie said, almost a whisper.
“Sheba, I’m sitting across from you right now. Don’t you see that I’m not going anywhere?”
And she knew he was being honest. There was such fear in the world. But love was everywhere if you looked. It was the best thing about humans. That they could stare into the abyss and still open up their hearts. A spit in the eye to fear.
Evie laced her fingers with Sam’s and rubbed her thumb gently across the delicate fretwork of veins at his wrist, the pulse of her thumb against the pulse beneath his skin, faintly felt but sure and constant. Later, she wouldn’t be able to say who had kissed whom first. It didn’t matter. It only mattered that they were kissing. They lay side by side on the peach satin quilt of her bed, bodies smashed together, Evie’s top leg wedged between Sam’s so that she could feel the heat of him pressed against her, making her dizzy from this new rush of desire.
Sam pulled away suddenly.
“Wha-what’s the matter?” Evie panted. She wanted him back. Wanted nothing but to be doing what they had been doing. Ached for it.
He took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes, narrowing his own. “You’re not possessed by ghosts this time, are you?”
Evie wrenched her head free from Sam’s palms. “Sam, honestly!”
He grinned. “Just checking.”
Evie kissed her way up the salty sweetness of his throat, to his ear, which she nibbled very softly, then whispered, “I am the Forgotten, forgotten no more.”
“Holy moly!” Sam jumped and Evie fell back against the pillow in a fit of laughter.
“Oh, Sam, your face!”
“Not amusing, Sheba,” Sam chided, but he was laughing, too.
Evie’s giggles subsided, and now she caught her breath. He was beautiful to her. She reached her hand toward him, and if she lived for a hundred years more, she would never forget his expression, as if he had been lost in a dark wood for a very long time and she had just opened the door to him, light spilling out to let him know he was home at last.
“Where were we?” Sam asked, crawling back to her.
“We were right…” Evie kissed Sam. “About.” And again. “Here.”
“Here?” Sam pressed his lips to hers, warm and sure.
“Mm-hmm.”
Sam scooped Evie up into his arms, and she wrapped hers around him, the two of them threaded together like a knot that would not easily be undone. It all moved rather furiously then. Sam unfastened the buttons of Evie’s dress, and it slid to the floor in a sparkling pile. Evie lifted Sam’s undershirt over his head and kissed the scar near his collarbone.
“Aerialist accident in the big tent,” Sam explained.
“Mmm. Tell me later.”
His trousers hit the floor along with his socks. Her slip was off. Sam fumbled with the hooks of her garter.
“I thought you were a ladies’ man,” Evie joked, taking over and rolling off her stockings. She was nervous.
“I’m not a hosiery salesman, though,” Sam shot back. He sounded a little nervous, too. Evie removed her brassiere. Sam tugged off his boxers. Evie’s pulse drummed in her head. She’d petted—every girl had, even the ones who pretended they hadn’t. But this was a lot more than petting. She’d never seen a naked fella up close before, much less one she desperately wanted, even if she didn’t know what to do next. She and Sam slipped under the covers. And then, suddenly, the whole night was too much. She was afraid. It was silly, wasn’t it? She’d been ruined by Jake Marlowe and Sarah Snow. They’d faced a street full of ghosts, and she was afraid of this, this joining of bodies, this step toward love? Her cynicism was leaving her. She was opening herself up to something more. It was somehow the scariest thing in the whole world.
“Could we… could we just lie next to each other?” Evie said, eyes brimming with tears. “Just for a little while?”
“You’re killing me, Sheba.”
“Please? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Sam lifted her chin. “Hey. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”
With that, he flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling with great concentration.
“What are you doing?” Evie asked.
“Thinking of the least sexual thing I can imagine. Ghost bubbes. They’re making ghost borscht and talking about their bowel troubles. Jeepers. I might never make love again. This is traumatic.”
Evie burst out laughing. Then: “Sam. I changed my mind.”
Sam turned to her. “About…?”
“You know.” She reached under the covers and touched him, biting her lip at the surprise of what she felt.
Sam gasped. “You sure?” His voice was soft and a little breathy.
Evie nodded.
Sam wet his thumb with his mouth and slipped his hand between her legs, touching her gently there.