Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-two

Chloe

“Are you hungry?” Sam fishes the keys to his apartment from his pocket.

“Starving,” I say as he unlocks the door and pushes it open wide, motioning for me to step in first.

“Good, because I might have made dinner. Well, not dinner, but something to eat.”

Smiling, I turn and am struck all over again by just how handsome Sam is. Thick brown hair, striking blue eyes, a sharp stubble-covered jaw, and full lips. He’s exactly the type of man I’d write about…or maybe the men I write about look the way they do because of Sam.

He’s so much more than his good looks, though. He’s smart and kind and—most importantly—he’s mine.

“You cooked for me?”

“Cooked is relative.” He chuckles and wheels my suitcase into the foyer, and then closes and locks the door behind us. The apartment is dark, and light from the city below illuminates the corner windows. “So if it’s terrible, don’t hold it against me.”

“As much as my dad likes to joke that I’m all prissy, I promise I’m not a picky eater. You put food in front of me, and unless it’s just garbage, I’m gonna eat it.” I lean over, undoing the straps to my sandals. I dressed up more than I normally would for a plane ride, wanting to look good for Sam. But I draw the line at wearing heels on a plane. My flats are designer, not that Sam, or really anyone else for that matter, even cares. “Which probably is something I shouldn’t tell too many people.”

“Eating is one of my favorite things to do,” he says back, and I wiggle my eyebrows. We both laugh and Sam comes over, closing the distance between us. My eyes flutter shut when his arms go around me, and I let out a sigh of relief to be back here with him.

“Let’s eat,” I say, knowing he has to work in the morning. He plants a kiss on my forehead and takes my hand, leading me to the kitchen. I sit at the island counter and he opens the oven.

“It’s still warm,” he says, mostly to himself. “I just turned the oven off before I left and hoped it would retain the heat.” He pulls out a casserole dish and I immediately recognize what he made. My face lights up and my heart swells. “But I can reheat it if you want it warmer.” He sets the artichoke dip on the counter and gets a bowl of cut-up apple slices from the fridge.

“Is this your mom’s recipe?” I ask, looking up at Sam.

“Yeah. I called her and got it from her. She wants a report from you in the morning, ya know, to have you tell her that this is nowhere near as good as what she makes.” He puts the bowl of apple slices down and takes a seat next to me. “Even though I know mine is the best.”

“Thanks, Sam.” I grab an apple slice and stick it in the dip. “That was really sweet.”

“I can be sweet from time to time.” He playfully nudges me, watching as I take a bite. “Well?”

“It’s good!” I say once I’m done chewing. “It tastes exactly like I remember, but better since you made it.”

“Just don’t set the bar too high,” he jokes. “I can cook, but I usually make the same things over and over.”

“About three years ago, I decided that once a week I was going to try and cook a really good dinner. That lasted a few months, actually, which was longer than I thought I’d last. But then I went on tour and it threw off the routine. I like cooking,” I start and get another apple slice to scoop up more dip. “But going through all that trouble just for myself doesn’t seem worth it. Plus, I have no one to help me do dishes.”

“You don’t have servants?” Sam teases.

“I do have a housekeeper, but I’m guessing you do too?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “They come every other week. I feel like I don’t use the space enough to warrant anything more.” He turns his head, looking at me.

“I get it. And for the weeks when I’m traveling, my house is pretty much empty.”

“I’m kind of surprised you don’t have pets. Other than the horse.”

“Remember Salem?” I ask.

Sam nods. “The black cat you got in high school.”

“I took him with me. He lived to be nineteen. I’ll get another cat when I’m ready, but it still feels like it’s too soon. Cats are fairly easy, and I can have my P.A. come by to take care of them when I’m out. She gets my mail and makes it look like someone is home when I’m away for work.”

“P.A.?” Sam questions.

“Oh, right. I forget people don’t know what I’m talking about sometimes. Personal assistant.”

“Sounds fancy.”

I laugh. “It sounds fancier than it is. She mostly manages my social media and emails but helps with other things too.”

“Now I’m imagining you being a jerk boss like Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada.”

I laugh. “I’m not at all, and you’ve seen that movie?”

“I have, and I like it. Mean Girls is good too.”

I cock an eyebrow. “What about The Notebook?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t see how it’s a love story.”

“I said the same thing! And as much as I hate using this term, but I’m surprised you watch chick flicks.”

“I do have a sister,” he reminds me, nudging me with his arm.

“A sister who’s seen my boobs.”

“Way to ruin the moment,” he says with a frown, and I laugh. “Do you want anything more than dip? I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow night, just so you know.”

“The dip is perfect, and I’m excited for dinner. I brought a dress I’ve never worn before just for date-night.”

“It’s supposed to be warm tomorrow night too. We could walk along the river after dinner…if you want.”

“That sounds wonderful.” I reach for another apple slice, looking at Sam again. He yawns, and I remember again we have a two-hour time difference and he’s not used to staying up late like I am. “I need to take a shower. Want to join me?”

Sam gives me a smirk. “You really have to ask?”

*

“You have to leave already?” I grumble, eyes fluttering open for just a second. It’s still dark out, and Sam just hit the snooze on his alarm. “One more minute?”

“One more,” he says back, sounding just as tired as I feel. We had amazing sex—again—before going to sleep, and Sam spent a considerable amount of time with his head between my legs. I was exhausted from coming three times in a row. He has to be exhausted as well.

I roll over, sliding my hand up Sam’s back, and run my fingertips up and down his shoulder. He moves closer, draping his arm around me. I swear only thirty seconds pass before the alarm goes off again. Sam hits snooze and takes me in his arms, pressing my body against his.

I’m warm and comfy and don’t want him to leave. This weekend cannot come fast enough when we can lounge around in bed, having lazy morning sex followed by something way more invigorating later.

When his alarm goes off for the third time, he slowly forces himself away from me. “I need to get up or I’ll be late,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“I’ll get up with you,” I say, but make no attempt to move. I am not a morning person. At all.

“Stay in bed.” He kisses me and then disappears out of the room. I tell myself I’m going to get up in just a minute, but I think at least ten have passed by the time I drag my ass out of bed. I’m a little stuffy and my throat hurts, so even though I plan to go back to sleep, warm coffee sounds good.

Yawning, I sit up and run my fingers through my messy hair. There’s no point in trying to tame it now; it would take way too long. It was wet when I fell asleep and is a tangled mess of unruly waves. My suitcase is open on the floor next to the bed, and I grab a black satin robe. I have nothing on underneath and plan to keep it that way.

I make a quick trip to the bathroom, making sure I got all my mascara off last night so I didn’t wake up looking like Alice Cooper, and use the toilet before going into the kitchen to find Sam.

“Morning,” I say, smile coming to my lips as soon as I see him.

He looks up from his phone and smiles back. “Morning. I thought you were going to sleep in.”

I sniffle, assuming the change in climates and air quality is making my allergies flare up, and go over to Sam. “I’ll go back to bed after you leave. For now, I want coffee.”

He twists in the barstool, setting his phone on the counter, and pulls me into his embrace. I hook my arms around his shoulders and close my eyes, resting my forehead against his. “I wish you could stay home with me.”

“I do too,” he says back. “Though you wouldn’t get any work done. I’d keep you busy all day.” He lifts his head, giving me his trademark grin. It sends a rush through me, turning me on in an instant. Sam's phone buzzes, and I flick my eyes to the counter. Someone named Archer sent him a text.

We break apart so I can get coffee and Sam can reply to the text. “My friend Archer and his wife Quinn are coming into the city for work,” Sam starts. “They want to double-date tonight. We already had plans to go out just the two of us, so if you don’t want to, don’t feel bad.”

“Oh, that’d be fun!” I fill a mug up halfway with coffee. “I’d like to meet your friends.” There’s so much history between Sam and me that I sometimes forget we had years to build separate lives. Meeting Sam’s friends is another step in our relationship.

“Quinn is excited to meet you. She’s Rory’s sister-in-law, so she knows about you already. Sorry,” he adds with a half-smile.

“You said you introduced Rory to her husband, so if Quinn is her sister-in-law, then she’s related to Dean…somehow?”

“Dean is Quinn’s brother. And I didn’t set them up or anything, but I suggested Rory apply to be an OR nurse at the hospital Archer is at since he’s a surgeon. Archer and I were roommates during our residency, and he and Dean had been friends for years before that, hence how Rory met him.” He takes a drink of coffee, looking smug. “But I orchestrated the whole thing. I’m a matchmaker.”

I let out a snort of laughter. “Sounds like it.” I take a sip of coffee, and it feels so good against my scratchy throat. “I think I need to take notes. Quinn and Dean are siblings?”

“Yeah, he’s her older brother.”

“And you and Archer were friends from med school?”

“Residency. It’s different than med school.”

“Okay, residency. So, you met Dean through being friends with Archer, who’s married to Dean’s sister, and your sister is married to Dean.”

“Yeah, it sounds complicated, but it’s not.”

“I think it’s neat how you guys are all friends.” I bring my coffee over and sit next to Sam. “You were always close with your siblings. It’s nice how you guys still talk and hang out.”

“We don’t as much as we used to,” he admits.

“It’s harder when you don’t live in the same house anymore, let alone the same town. But you do go home every once in a while.”

“We do, not always at the same time, but Mom makes sure of it.” He tucks my unruly hair behind my ear. “Though it never felt the same without you.” Pain reflects in his crystal-blue eyes, and he furrows his brows. “I wish I could go back,” he says softly. “Then everything would be…would be how it should have been from the start.”

“Me too,” I say, just as quiet. “You know I like to believe things happen for a reason, and everything that happened before makes us who we are today. The good…the bad…it was all meant to be in some weird, confusing, and sometimes very unfair reason.”

“Like destiny?” He pulls me onto his lap.

“I suppose, but I also think we can create our own destiny, which contradicts what I just said, I know.” I shrug. “I’m no philosopher, but enough bad shit has happened, and I have to believe it’s for a reason.” My mind goes to my mom and how she was taken away too soon. “But a lot of good stuff happened too, and it wasn’t by some stroke of luck. It was hard work and determination.”

“I think I know what you mean,” he says and runs his fingers through my hair again. “We can control a lot of what goes on around us, but at the same time, have no control over just as much.”

I slowly bob my head up and down. “I think it comes down to how you choose to look at it. Your attitude makes a big difference, that’s why I chose to see it as things happening to make me who I am today. If I wasn’t such a weirdo, I wouldn’t have been ostracized in school, which wouldn’t have led me to live in my own little fantasy world, which drove me to create my Shadowfall series.”

“Things happen for a reason,” he replies and gently cups my face in his large hands.

“Like us finally finding each other.”

He averts his eyes for a moment, and then looks back with a smile. “Just like that.” He kisses me and rests his head against my breasts. We stay like that for a minute, and then Sam grudgingly gets up to go to work.

“You look nice,” I tell him, openly checking him out. He’s wearing dress pants with a button-up shirt tucked in and a black leather belt tying it all together. “I thought you’d get to wear sweats or something to work since you change when you get to the hospital, right?”

“I do change right way, and it’s hospital policy,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Physicians have to—quote—look like physicians when we enter or leave the facility. I’m pretty sure the only other people who see me this early are the other doctors who walk in with me.”

“Well, I like it, but I might have been hoping you’d come home only wearing a lab coat.”

He chuckles. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Before he leaves for work, he makes sure I have keys and know the code to get into the apartment, and then gives me a very good kiss goodbye. I take my time finishing my coffee and then grab my computer and go back to bed. I make myself write an entire chapter before allowing any sort of social media usage, and three hours later, I’m ready for a nap. My throat hurts again, annoying me more than anything. I don’t have time to get sick, and I’m hoping if I stay snuggled up in blankets on the couch while writing today, I’ll feel better by the time Sam gets home from work.

      I get three chapters written before lunch. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and move my computer to the coffee table, closing my eyes for “just a minute” and end up falling asleep for nearly an hour. Instead of feeling better when I get up, my throat is on fire and I can’t breathe out of one nostril. I take a hot shower and then force myself to write at least two more chapters. Being here really is inspiring, and I’m in the middle of another fight scene when Sam comes home.

“Hey, babe,” I say, looking up from my laptop, blinking. “How was work?”

“Busy,” he says, going to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “I’m glad to be home.”

I double-check that I’ve saved and backed up my progress and go over to him. He quickly dries his hands and takes me in his arms. My heart flutters in my chest and I know I’m getting a little ahead of myself imagining this is our new routine, though I don’t see the harm in thinking of the future. Sam is my end game. I just know it.

“And I’m glad you’re home.” I stand on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kiss him. He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck, nipping and sucking at my skin. “Mmmm,” I groan, ignoring the little voice in the back of my head that reminds me I need to get dressed for dinner. Sam texted me earlier, letting me know he got us a reservation for eight-thirty…which is only an hour from now. The place is close to his apartment at least, and we can get an Uber and be there in twenty to thirty minutes assuming traffic isn’t terrible.

I looked the restaurant up online. It’s expensive but not stuffy, and the dark blue dress I brought will be perfect for it. I already curled my hair this afternoon after the shower and just need to run my fingers through it to break up the spirals, letting my hair fall into more manageable waves than what naturally occur when I let my hair air dry.

“Are we meeting your friends at the restaurant?” I ask, closing my eyes and rolling my neck to the side so Sam can keep kissing me. Right now, I don’t really care who we’re meeting or when or where we’re supposed to meet.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes, breath warm on my neck.

“I should…should get changed then.”

“You should.” He sweeps his hands down to my ass and gives it a good squeeze. “I can help you with that.”

“Can you?”

He lifts his head and looks at me hungrily. “You have to take this off before you can get dressed.”

“Yes.” I take my bottom lip between my teeth and suck in a quick breath. “I do. And this t-shirt is pretty difficult to remove. I’m going to need help removing it.”

“It looks tricky.” Sam bunches the hem of my shirt in his hands. “Good thing I’m a doctor.”

I laugh, standing on my toes to kiss him again. “I thought about you when I was writing today.”

“Did you write a sex scene?”

“Yes.” I raise my eyebrows. “Thinking about you is very inspiring.”

“Are you thinking about me now?” He puts his lips to my neck again, making heat flash through me.

“I…I think you should find out.” My eyes fall shut and I toss my head back, parting my lips. Sam’s teeth nip at my skin as he slowly inches his fingers down the front of my pajama pants

“Fuck,” he groans, sweeping his fingers over my entrance, finding me wet for him already. I whimper as his deft fingers play with my clit. I rest my head against him, widening my stance to give him better access to my core. He takes his time, teasing me with his fingers, stroking me, only to stop again, getting me so revved up I’m desperate for more.

I slide one hand down his firm chest, fingers running over every button on his dress shirt. The metal buckle on his belt is cool to the touch, and I slowly pull at it, too distracted by what Sam’s doing to me to concentrate on anything more than how fucking good this feels.

He pushes two fingers inside me, going right to that sweet spot that weakens my knees. I bring my hands back up, needing to hold onto him for support. His fingers pulse inside of me, rubbing and stroking me in a way he knows is going to make me come. We’ve known each other for so long, but being together in a romantic sense is still new to us. Yet there’s no second-guessing anything when it comes to him pleasuring me. It's like my body was made for him to play, and he knows the song by heart.

I untuck his shirt and start undoing the buttons, fingers moving as fast as they can while I still struggle to hold myself up. Sam kisses me hard and pulls his hand from between my legs so I can strip him. His button-up falls to the ground, and I pull his white undershirt over his head, adding it to the pile of clothing on the floor.

I run my hands over his firm chest, down to the V-cut muscles above his hips. Sam advances, taking me in his arms and lifting me onto the kitchen counter. My legs curl around him, feeling his cock hardening through his pants. He cups my chin, turning my face up to his, and kisses me as he slides his hand to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my thick hair.

“I missed you today,” he pants between kisses.

“I can tell,” I say as I undo his belt, feeling his cock pressing against my hand. Slowly, I pop the button on his pants, flicking my eyes down to see the wet tip of his cock sticking out over the top of his boxers. I push my hand down, wrapping my fingers around his cock. Fuck, he’s so big it’s still a wonder I can fit all of him inside me.

Sam lets out a soft moan, resting his head against mine as I pump my hand up and down, thumb circling over the tip of his dick, spreading the precum down his shaft. His lips meet mine again, kissing me once more before pulling my hand from his boxers. He eases me back on the counter and takes off my pajama pants.

“I thought about fucking you all day.”  His words send another jolt through me, and he dives between my legs, mouth hovering over my core, teasing me with his hot breath. I buck my hips, needing to feel him against me, but he turns his head, gently kissing the inside of my thigh. I’m impatient, desperate to come, but I know Sam will make it well worth my while when I’m writhing with pleasure against him.

More than once. Because when it comes to Sam, I know he’ll always make me come at least twice. And with the distance between us and not being able to do this as often as we'd like, I know tonight will be just as good if not better than before.

Why the hell did we wait so long to finally get together?

He turns his head, kissing my other thigh, and slowly licks his way to my center, tongue hovering above my clit, enjoying the second of hesitation way too much.

“Sam,” I moan, and he slides his hands under my ass, lifting me off the counter and to his face. With no warning, his tongue lashes out against me. My pulse pounds through me, and I glance down, watching Sam eat me out. The counter bites into my elbows, but the discomfort barely registers in my mind. I’m fairly certain the sky could be falling and I wouldn’t notice right now.

Sam licks and sucks at me, working his tongue like magic. My muscles tense as I press one hand against the cool quartz counter and reach for Sam’s hair, fingers slipping through his dark locks.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Stop,” I pant, and Sam looks up, catching me watching him. He flashes a smirk and gets back to work, not stopping until I’m coming against his face, entire body humming from the orgasm.

“Chloe,” Sam growls, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I’m panting, slowly pushing myself up and suddenly very aware the lights are on in the kitchen and the large floor-to-ceiling windows aren’t too far from where we are on the counter. Anyone in the neighboring apartment could have looked in and saw us.

And, fuck, that excites me.

Inhaling, I sit the rest of the way up and reach for Sam, hooking my legs around him as soon as he steps closer. He takes me in his arms, bringing me tight against him. In one swift movement, he picks me up as if I weigh nothing and carries us to the couch. He lays me down and climbs over top, pushing his pants and boxers down at the same time. I bring my hands up, feeling his biceps, and widen my legs to welcome him in between.

We kiss as he enters me, and I widen my legs, welcoming him in deeper. Sam drives in hard and fast at first, and then slows his movements and circles his hips as he thrusts in and out of me. I angle my hips up, mouth falling open as another orgasm builds inside me. My head hits the arm of the couch as Sam fucks me harder, not stopping until I’m coming again.

He pushes in deep, breath quickening as he finishes. Letting out a breath, he rests his forehead against mine, dick still pulsing inside me. I rake my fingers up and down his back, body still humming. We stay together for another moment, and then Sam slowly pulls out and picks up his boxers from the floor, giving them to me to use to clean myself up with until I can get to the bathroom.

“Chloe,” he starts right before I get up.

“Yeah?”

His blue eyes meet mine and his lips part as if he’s going to tell me something. “I love you,” he says and gets up, extending a hand for me.

“I love you too.”

Head still spinning, I get up and walk to the bathroom, knowing we’re already late for dinner but not caring.

“Are you supposed to go talk to a class at Silver Ridge High?” Sam asks, turning on the shower. I carefully gather my hair into a bun on the top of my head, trying not to mess up my curls.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“My mom said something. I can’t remember her name but some English teacher—”

“Mrs. Clemmons?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She’s been telling everyone about it.”

I stick my hand in the running water, testing the temperature. Sam showers at a considerably cooler temperature than I like, though my preferred temp is “scalding.”

“I told her I’d go in and talk. She emailed me a few days ago and I haven’t responded yet. I guess I better do it now.”

“Do you have time for that?” he asks, getting two clean towels out for the linen closet for us.

“Yes and no.” I make a face. “I kind of want to go back to Silver Ridge. I miss the woods and sitting at that picnic pavilion would make a great office for the day. Assuming no one else is there.”

“You can rent it out still.”

“Ohh, then that’s what I’m going to do,” I say, and Sam laughs as he gets into the shower. “I’ll rent the whole thing out just for me and me alone. I’ll bring snacks and wine and will sit by the fire writing.”

“Expect a bear or two to join you.”

“We’ll be friends.” I step in behind him. “I’ll bring honey and he’ll be my Pooh Bear.” I close the glass shower door and turn up the temp of the water. “Did you ever stop and think about how sticky Pooh’s house would be? He’s always eating honey with his bare hands, and you never see him wash them after.”

Sam laughs. “I have never once thought about that.”

“I have so many questions about Disney characters. Why is Gaston such a bully? And speaking of him, don’t you think he’s the reason eggs are 'too expensive'? I mean, the guy is eating dozens every day.”

Sam tips his head. “I’m missing something here, aren’t I?”

“You are. We’ll binge old-school Disney films on our next rainy day, though, don’t worry.”

“As long as you’re naked, I’ll watch anything with you.”

“Remember you said that.”

His hands land on my waist, slipping up and down my wet skin with ease. “I’ll remember the naked part.”

“Do you want to go with me?” I ask.

“Are you going to be naked wherever you’re going?”

“I will be at some point.” I spin in his arms. “I mean to Silver Ridge. I should go talk to that class before I get too busy and then look like an asshole for not showing up. I was thinking maybe this weekend?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I’d like that. Mason might actually pass through town again too. He just texted us this afternoon that he’ll be working another job that will take him off the grid for a while and our mom wants to see him before.”

“Off the grid, like undercover?”

“Yeah, but he can’t give us details until his case is closed.”

“Oh, wow. That’s intense.”

“Yeah. I try not to worry, but he’s my little brother.” Sam makes a face. “And my mom would love to see you again.” He gets a distant look in his eyes once again and I can feel his pulse pick up in his chest. “After dinner we need to…to…talk.”

“About what?” I ask, telling myself there’s nothing to worry about.

“Just, uh…about…you know what, never mind. It can wait.”

“Really?”

He blinks a few times and smiles at me, though his smile is forced. “It’s nothing to worry about right now. Really.”