Page 84 of Ambiguous
Sam: Not that I consider this a hookup.
Sam: Shit. I’ll tell him.
Sam: Done.
Sam: And I’m on my way.
* * *
“Hey,” I say softly when Sam appears on my doorstep, as rumpled as he gets—which is to say, not very. He’s in shirtsleeves with no tie, and his hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it repeatedly.
He smells good. He gleams in the sun. His shy smile tugs at me, and I can’t help my stare.
Or the surge of desire.
Finally I can touch him.
I hope.
“Hey,” he responds. He kicks at the ground and shakes out his hands, then puts them deep in his pockets.
“Come in.” I step back and let him inside, closing the door behind him. He glances around as if he’s never seen my house before. It’s a beautiful, sunny afternoon, and I’ve got the windows open to let in the ocean breeze.
We’re luckily all alone. Colin said he’d be out until late evening.
“I wanted to thank you,” I say, not sure why I’m stalling, except that I don’t want to just maul him.
Sam tilts up his chin and takes a step closer to me. “For what?”
“For being my muse.”
He makes a derisive sound.
“Being a muse is everything,” I insist. “You kick-started the process. You got me over the creative humps. I’m truly grateful.”
“Well, then, I’m glad to have been of service.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I whisper. “I’ve waited for you. Now that I have a chance with you, I want you. Iwantyou.”
Sam’s eyes widen, and his breath hitches. I can see him get aroused—feel it on his skin and in his energy. Feel the way he comes alive.
“Is anything keeping me from kissing you now?” I ask, my voice low and my body close to his.
He looks at me with those turquoise eyes. And smiles. “No.”
The word is barely out, and our lips meet.
I have him in my arms, and he feels so fucking good.
Sam Stone in my arms is perfection.
This kiss lacks any semblance of restraint or tinge of we-shouldn’t-be-doing-this. Because now, we most definitelyshould.
Our tongues stroke each other, and the kiss gets deeper, sexier, stronger.
We’re making up for lost time.
I’m surprised but not surprised that he’s the one who moves next. His hands lower, and he cups my bum cheeks in his palms, squeezing and bringing my hips tighter against his.
