Page 34 of The Yips

We stood outside my car, neither ready to say goodbye and go our separate ways. Sam towered over me, and I leaned in, craving the closeness. Instead of intimidating me, our size difference was inviting. The chaste kiss I had planned escalated quickly, and we were once again panting and looking for more. Both of our bodies were working overdrive to remind us just how close we’d been the other night.

“My dad isn’t staying tonight. But Crew still sleeps in my room. You can come up, but we’d be limited to the couch,” I said, taking a breather while resting my forehead on his still-heaving chest.

Sam pulled away with a heavy sigh as he worked to get his breathing under control. His erection visibly strained against the fly of his jeans. “No, Kelsey, I am desperate foryou, but I refuse to have you for the first time on a couch. I can wait.” He nuzzled my neck, kissing his way up to my ear. “I am going to take my time with you, learning every place you like to be touched and making you come for me so many times you can’t think straight.”

“Next Saturday?” I asked him.

“Fuck yes.”

I reluctantly peeled myself away from him and sat in the driver’s seat of my car. I took a few calming breaths before turning the key in the ignition and driving away. I watched Sam get into the expensive sports car and cringed, thinking about my old trusty Honda. I am so far out of my league with this man. My only hope was that this wouldn’t end with my regretting that we ever met.

CHAPTER 30

Sam

It had taken every bit of strength to turn down Kelsey’s invitation last night, and while he’d jerked off twice thinking about her, it didn’t come close to satisfying the need to be with her. I had already asked Monica to request adjoining suites for Kelsey and me, as well as a separate room for her father. Having him in a separate room would give us privacy so she could sleep wherever she pleased, my suite or hers. I hoped she picked mine, but I didn’t want to back her into a corner.

Monica: How much longer do you expect to need separate suites?

Me: Hopefully, this is the last time.

Monica: Good, I like her. You should keep her around.

Monica had been around long enough to be comfortable giving her opinion on these issues. She also had never once booked travel for anyone but me. Judging by the lingerie she had purchased for Kelsey in Minnesota, she planned to playmatchmaker from a distance. Assistant and wingwoman Monica did it all.

Me: We also need reservations for dinner on Saturday. We’ll be meeting my father and grandfather.

Monica: Got it, someplace to impress your father.

Me: That is private enough where he can’t make a scene.

Monica: On it!

Me: Thank you.

I had thought about asking Monica to send Kelsey some flowers but decided it was something I should do myself. As a kid, I watched as my mother was hurt when she realized she had only received an anniversary gift because an assistant had followed up on a note on the calendar. Mom would be in the city this weekend, too, and if all went well, she could meet us for Sunday brunch. I dialed her number; she always preferred a call over a text.

“Sammy, nice to hear from you.”

“Madre, you are the only one who could get away with calling me Sammy,” I cringed as she used my childhood nickname.

“I don’t want to hear it. I want an explanation of why I have to see you and this woman on Page Six before you tell me about her.” Ugh. I knew I should have warned her. My mother, in particular, understood how committed I was to privacy; if I were seen out with someone, it meant they were important to me.

“It’s very new. That was our first date. Andif there were something to tell, you would be the first to know. We’re still figuring things out.”

“And?”

“She’ll be in New York with me this weekend. We have dinner with Dad and Gramps on Saturday. I was hoping to meet you for brunch on Sunday.”

“Oh God, does she know what could happen with your father? I can’t believe you’re already exposing her to this.”

“I’ve warned her. But Mom, she has a baby. He’ll be with us.”

“A baby? Or a child?” She asked to clarify.

“He’s four months old.”

“Oh.” She paused and then spoke again, “You know what you’re getting into?”

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