Park Avenue Prince(60)

As he pushed into me, pleasure crept up his face. Giving him that sensation was so powerful, I felt myself grow wetter, despite just having come.

“Christ,” he called out. The muscles in his neck tensed and I stroked a finger over them. “Fuck, Grace.”

I gasped as he slipped his hand underneath my ass and pulled me up, increasing his rhythm. I was vaguely aware of my headboard cracking against the drywall as his thrusts became more urgent.

I lifted my legs, wanting to give him more, to pull him closer. He thrust deeper, his breaths heavy on my neck peppered with “You’re all mine” and “Forever.”





“I think we should definitely get a car,” Sam said and I turned to look at him as I was locking the door to my apartment, checking to see if I’d heard him right. “And a driver.”

Was I reading too much into him saying we? “A driver?”

“Yeah. We get cabs every day anyway. A driver can drop me at work, then take you to the gallery. If either of us need it, we have it. You agree?” He took my hand, despite the fact that going down stairs side by side was slightly awkward.

He was talking about a future together—I’d never heard that from him before. “Well, I am a Park Avenue princess, so of course I agree.”

The air was chilly as we stepped outside, an icy wind tunneled down the street. Some early snow had settled while we were away, but most of it had disappeared. “I think it might snow again,” I said as Sam craned his neck looking for a cab. “Let’s walk to the corner.” I pulled on his arm.

“The trip won’t be as far when we’re on Park Avenue,” he said. “And we won’t have to wait in the cold for a cab.”

There was that word again. We. I grinned.

Before long a cab pulled up and Sam opened the door for me to climb in.

“The bed arrives tonight,” he said as he sat next to me. “Where do you want to stay?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight. Tomorrow.”

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was on the brink of suggesting we move in together. Although I’d detected a shift within him since Connecticut, I wasn’t expecting it to be freewheeling from now on.

“We could have Angie and Chas over on the weekend,” he said. “Maybe even Harper, Max and all the kids.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t want to push him, or bring back painful memories if he wasn’t ready. I was determined to give him some time and space to process everything.

“I really like them. We should invite them.” He squeezed my hand and looked out the window.

“Just here on the left,” he said to the driver as we approached the gallery.

The cab stopped and Sam put his hand on mine. “Hey. Before you go. I . . . about that thing you said in Connecticut?”

I held my breath, unsure what he was going to say, but so hopeful it was what I wanted to hear. I’d not repeated my I love you—I didn’t want to trigger anything. I nodded.

“Well,” he said, then took a deep breath. “Yeah, well I feel the same.”





Chapter Nineteen

Sam





I’d known I’d loved her since our argument in Connecticut. It was part of the reason I was so mad—she’d managed to make me love her despite all the odds, and despite my every effort not to.

She narrowed her eyes as if she hadn’t heard me correctly.

“You know,” I said, wanting to say the actual words but finding it a struggle to push them out. She squeezed my hand. She wasn’t going to make me say it but she deserved to hear it.

“I love you,” I said.

Her eyes became watery and I reached to cup her face. I didn’t want her to be sad.

“I love you, Sam Shaw.”

I nodded and tried to bite back a grin.

The cab driver cleared his throat. “I better go,” she said.

“I don’t want you to.” I wished I’d told her last night and I could have spent hours just holding her close.

“I’ll see you tonight. Maybe try to leave early and we can have dinner.”

I turned to the driver. “I’m just going to say goodbye. Hang on.” I wanted to wrap my arms around her before she left for the day, even it was just for a second. Grace opened the cab door as I set foot on the street.

There was a squeal of brakes, a yell from our driver and then I got thrown back into my seat.

What the hell? The cab stilled and I turned my head.

“Grace?” Her passenger door was closed and deformed, and the shattered windshield of another car faced me. Broken glass covered everything.

We’d been hit.

“Fuck,” I said, scrambling out of the cab. “Grace!” I shouted, but didn’t see her. As I rounded the trunk, I expected to find her arms outstretched toward me. But she’d disappeared. “Grace,” I screamed when I found her, lying on the asphalt, her hair sprayed out against the road. It felt like it took hours to get to her. I sank to my knees. Her eyes were shut and her legs twisted awkwardly.

My heart pounded. Panicked, I stroked her cheek. “Grace,” I said, looking up to find someone standing over me, staring. “Call 9-1-1,” I bellowed then turned back to put my hand on Grace’s chest. An inch of me relaxed as my hand rose and fell with her ribcage.