Page 28 of A Family Affair: The Plan
What if he’d changed his mind?
What if he wanted more?
What if he rejected her?
What if…
What if he said “yes”?
That last possibility propelled her forward, one step, two, until she stood outside his door. She lifted a hand, knocked. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he wanted more? What if he… The door opened and he stood before her, no smile, no sign he wanted her to stay, no… “I don’t want a relationship,” she blurted out.
“Good. Neither do I.”
She licked her lips, swallowed. “This is only about ‘for now’.”
A nod, a narrowed gaze. “For now. No relationship. Got it.”
It was her turn to nod. “Okay then.”
His gaze locked with hers as he stepped back and she entered his room. Sam reached behind her, closed the door, pressed her against it, his face inches from hers as he murmured, “Just for now.” He framed her face with his hands, bent his head and devoured her mouth with such passion and need it stole her breath…made he dizzy…made her want more.
Hope flung her hands around his neck, pulled him to her…close…closer…pressing her body against his…that strong, perfect body molding to hers. The kiss turned deeper, more desperate, as he trailed a hand to her shoulder, settled on the button of her blouse…. “I want you,” he murmured against her lips. He unbuttoned the first button, then the second, dipped his finger beneath the fabric. “I knew you’d feel like this.” Sam trailed kisses along her collarbone, eased her blouse open. “I’ve imagined this too many times… Wondered what you’d taste like.” More kisses, more confessions. “But nothing comes close to this.”
Hope pulled the T-shirt from his jeans, slid her hands along his back. “I want…” Her words landed in a sigh when his tongue made tiny circles along her collarbone.Oh, but that tongue…“Sam…I…”I want you…
“Yeah. Me too.”
There was no talking after that, as he held out a hand and led her to the bed. Every touch, every kiss, every single sensation made her sizzle with desire and need. She’dneverwanted anything as much as she wanted this and she didn’t want to wait one second longer. It would have been intoxicating to draw out the moment—removing a shirt, jeans, his boxers, her bra and panties… But there was no time as they tore off each other’s clothes, desperate to feel more skin, get closer… Sam eased her onto the bed, pulled her on top of him, his gaze burning with need. Oh, but she did not need any encouragement as she straddled him, and let the magic begin.
After, she tried to convince herself he’d been the aggressor…she’d only been the welcome participant, but that was sonotthe truth. They’d both been desperate to touch, share, pleasure, and it was ridiculous to deny it or the white-hot sizzle his touch created. Their lovemaking had left her exhausted and exhilarated. Once was definitely not enough. The second time they made love, they’d taken it slower, but the passion had been just as intense, the climax just as explosive. They fell asleep with Hope on top of Sam, his arm slung low on her waist, his breathing even, content…
Hope woke hours later snuggled against his side, his arm still holding her close.
“Are you awake?”
Sleep had made his voice lower, more intimate. “Yes.” It was one thing to share herself in Sam’s bed where no worries, thoughts, or explanations were required. But what about now? Would he expect to talk about what happened between them? Get her to admit how incredible it had been?
What then? This was only “for now”. Was that why it had been so exhilarating?
He ran his free hand through her hair, let out a long sigh. “Your hair is beautiful. Silky. Perfect. You don’t need the pearls either, unless you’re attending a dinner party, and even then…” He trailed a hand down her back, settled it on her hip. “People aren’t going to be looking at your jewelry when you enter a room. Trust me on that one.”
Her mother had always told her appearances were more important than substance, and substance must be evaluated and re-evaluated depending on the desired outcome. What she’d meant was let your goals sway you instead of your beliefs.Don’t let anyone see you scared or uncertain, or incapable of making a difficult choice. And don’t care too much, that will only hurt you. Do not do it. Stand tall, attend to those who can propel you forward and discard people who will hold you back from that goal. And don’t forget the pearls…never forget them, even if you’re doing laundry… Remember, they help define who you’ve become…
“Hope? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking about how clothes and jewelry can let you be anyone.” Her mother had helped her create a persona she believed would grant Hope massive success, and while it did that in the business world, her personal life had suffered. She’d used this “persona” as protection from showing anyone who she really was…can’t get hurt if you don’t let anyone in… Stay safe…and don’t reveal too much… The real you might not be good enough…But Sam didn’t seem interested in the person she’d manufactured. He wanted to get to know the real Hope Newland. Could she let him?
His voice pulled her in. “I tried letting material things define me when I lived in Chicago. The cars, the condo, the clothes, and trips. It didn’t work out so well because all it really does is beat you up and make you question yourself, your values, what you want and don’t want. When you realize you’ve given up a bigpiece of yourself?” He blew out a long sigh. “Not a good place to be.”
“If I ditch the pearls and chignon, can I keep the designer outfits?” They were touching on very serious territory and she wasn’t sure what to do about that. “I do love the feel of cashmere and there’s nothing like silk… And real leather? So smooth. I amnotgoing back to polyester.”
His laughter made her smile. “Well, now, I guess you really are attached to your designers.” Another laugh, a husky, “I’m not saying get rid of the cashmere or the silk, but refusing to step outside without them? I’d like to seethatHope Newland…the one who doesn’t care if rain or humidity destroys her hair and is as comfortable in cotton as she is in silk. Somebody who doesn’t shy away from a sweatshirt. And those boots you borrowed from Mimi?” The full-on laugh rumbled through him. “Those are for serious walks…trudging through mud, tall grass… You should get two pairs, along with a hat and matching gloves. The warm kind, minus the designer label.”
Mimi’s lined bootsweremore comfortable than the ones she usually wore. Hope’s boot selection had always focused on look and design over function and practicality. “Icouldadd those to my boot selection, but I’d have to change my habits since my current lifestyle doesn’t involve long hikes or trekking through fields.”
His hand stilled, and when he spoke, the humor had evaporated, replaced with a quiet “Maybe it should.”
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