Page 36 of Broken Bonds

She chuckles and rolls her eyes, though her cheeks are flushed with pleasure.

“That is such a cheesy line,” she teases me.

“You like it when I’m cheesy,” I respond with a grin.

She nods. “Yes, yes, I do.”

We continue driving for several more minutes until we enter a residential neighborhood. There are houses with white picket fences and large yards on either side of the street as we drive. I spot children playing and the whole scene is so idyllic, it almost doesn’t seem real.

We pull into the driveway of a medium-sized white house with blue shutters and a red door. Samantha puts the car into park outside of the garage and kills the engine.

Turn to me, she smiles and says, “Welcome home.”

I blink at her, momentarily caught off guard. That’s right. This is my home now. Here, with her. After so many years alone, I can hardly believe it’s true.

She gets out of the car and I follow after her. We retrieve our bags from the trunk and then make our way to the front door. Standing back, I wait as she unlocks it and we walk inside.

The interior is neat and stylish, and reminds me very much of Samantha with its slick gray walls and homey furnishings. We put our bags down and I watch her go from the foyer into the living room before she turns to me with a smile.

“Well, would you like at tour?” she asks with a grin.

I blink at her, suddenly overcome with desire. My woman in our home. What man could resist that?

As I stalk toward her, her expression changes to one of matching lust and eagerness. I reach her and wrap my hands around her waist, tugging her against me.

“No tour?” she murmurs breathlessly.

“Not yet,” I reply with a growl. “Later…although you could show me the bedroom right now.”

She giggles as I lower my head and slant my lips over hers. Her moans make me clutch her harder against me, and I remember just how long it’s been since I was able to touch and taste her like this. The journey from Antarctica was long and exhausting, with multiple aircraft changes and long waits in airports. It’s been days since we were able to indulge in each other, and I’m very eager to christen our new home together, making it ours and not just hers.

My fingers find the bottom of her t-shirt and I begin to slowly pull the garment up, but she stops me with her hands on my wrists.

“Hold on,” she says with a grin against my lips. “We’ve just been jumping from plane to plane for the past how many days? I need a shower before we get too frisky.”

“I don’t mind,” I tell her, leaning in for another kiss, but she dodges me with a chuckle.

“I’m serious Aleixo!” she declares, kissing my chin to take away the sting of her rejection. “I feel gross, not sexy. Let’s get cleaned up and then we can have a little fun.”

I groan. “Fine…if you insist.”

“Thank you.” She kisses my cheek and steps out of my hold. I reluctantly let her go. “I’ll go get cleaned up and you can look around if you want. Then you can shower too, okay?”

“I’d rather shower together,” I growl.

She arches her brow with a sexy little smirk. “We both know what’ll happen if we do that. Our goal is to actually get clean here. It’ll be fine, I promise. You’ve gone this long without any…another half-hour won’t kill you.”

“Says you,” I pout. She laughs again and goes to grab her bags before trudging down the hallway in the direction of what I assume is the bedroom. For a moment, I consider following her and trying again to convince her to conserve water with me, but I decide against it. She’s right, it’s been a long couple of days, and if she needs a hot solo shower to help her relax and feel better, I’m not about to deny her that.

So, instead, I take up her offer to look around. She’d told me she had friends and a cleaning service taking care of the place while she was away, so everything’s neat and tidy without any noticeable dust. There isn’t any clutter. Everything is arranged just so, which honestly doesn’t surprise me. Samantha’s things are at once practical and modern, though I can tell what belongings likely hold a more sentimental value than others. A painting of an old barn hanging on the wall that doesn’t really go with her other more minimalist pieces. A somewhat gaudy ballerina figurine set among other items from what I assume are her extensive travels. A colorful crocheted throw spread across the back of her sleek gray couch.

I grin as I take in Samantha’s private little world. A place where she comes to get away from everyone else. Her space, which she has now invited me to share with her. It hits me in this moment just how privileged of a thing this is. This life that she’s asking me to build with her. To think, I tried to prevent this all from happening, convinced that she didn’t really care for me or me for her. Too scared to admit that the bond wasn’t the real reason I was so drawn to her and wanted to be near her pretty much every minute of the day.

I wasted so much time being afraid of being connected with her…when in truth, there was never anything to be afraid of.

After I make my way through the living room, I inspect the kitchen and dining room, then wander down the hall she disappeared into. I come upon a home office and a guest room, and finally reach the master bedroom. Stepping over the threshold, I pause so I can take the whole room in. It’s decent sized, with a large bed on the far wall with a blue comforter. I think of all the things we could do in a bed that size when I hear the water from the shower in the adjoining bathroom turn off. A few moments later, Samantha emerges wrapped in a plush robe, toweling off her hair. Her eyes land on me and she grins.

“Your turn.”

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