Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(151)

One could not say I had an enormous amount of experience with healthy relationships.

That said, I knew this was simply not right.

But it was worse. He was still Sam, gentlemanly, affectionate, attentive, but something was there, something was on his mind or there was something between us. I didn’t get it, couldn’t put my finger on it. The only thing I knew, Sam wouldn’t share.

And I was right. He didn’t. He acted like nothing was amiss.

I let this slide, practiced patience and hoped. I also kept up the steady flow of giving me and sharing my feelings for him.

And to the last, all I ever got back was, “Good.”

And that started to hurt.

When Sam was gone, I spent time with Luci. I spent time discovering Kingston. I walked my dog on the beach. I cleaned Sam’s house. I went to the grocery store. I did the laundry. I ironed his shirts. I talked to my friends and family on the phone.

But patience wasn’t working. I was seeing Sam less and less and I was feeling Sam withdraw more and more.

Then the time had come for my family to visit and I couldn’t let it slide, I couldn’t practice patience, I couldn’t hope. They’d notice, I knew they would. I had to make something happen. I had to find out what the f**k was going on.

I timed it when I thought it was right. We were in a moment, they were coming few and far between but it was a moment like it used to be between us. Sam seemed mellow, laidback… Sam.

We were watching a movie on DVD. We’d had a good day out buying a pullout couch for his office so Gitte and Kyle could sleep there. Sheets. Gifts to give my family. Sam had made me dinner and I’d kept him company in the kitchen, drinking beer, being stupid, making him laugh. He hadn’t seen a buddy. He’d only run for an hour. He didn’t have something to see to. It was just us all day.

And as we lay on the couch, cuddled together, me with my back to the couch, my front plastered to Sam, my cheek on his chest, my eyes on the movie; Sam with his arm around me, his fingers trailing my hip and waist in random patterns, his eyes on the movie, I took my shot.

“This movie sucks,” I announced and that was not a ploy. It did. It wasn’t bad. It was bad.

I heard and felt the rumble of his chuckle, his body shaking before he agreed, “It seriously f**kin’ does, baby.”

I lifted my head from his chest and looked into his smiling, beautiful eyes.

God, I missed that.

God, God, God, I missed seeing his eyes smile.

“Sorry,” I muttered because the movie was my choice.

“Punishment, next three flicks we rent, I pick.”

“Okay,” I whispered then pushed myself on top of him, reached out to the coffee table, tagged the remote and pointed it at the TV. I hit the button and the action paused. Then I tossed the remote back on the table and turned back to him. Staying on top of him, I placed my hands on his chest and caught his eyes. “Can we talk instead?”

The guard slammed down.

Oh man. I actually saw it slam… right… down.

Both his hands came up and sifted into my hair at the sides, holding it back and he replied, “Better things we could do, baby.”

It should be noted that through these nearly three weeks, our sex life didn’t suffer.

No. Not at all.

It was better than ever, like that night of the promise, hot, heavy, hard, intense, out-of-control… but desperate. It was the kind of sex I didn’t have to burn in my brain. Sam did it for me. Every touch, every taste, every stroke I’d never forget. It was beautiful. It was the only thing we shared that made me believe.

Even so…

“I’d rather talk,” I told him quietly.

His hands slid through my hair, down my back and his arms wrapped around me.

Then he invited shortly, “Do it.”

Not a good start.

“We’re…” I hesitated then pointed out, “Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Kia,” he replied instantly. So instantly I blinked.

He couldn’t possibly think that.

“Sam, since Luci had her thing on the beach, things have not been the same.”

“Everything’s fine.”

God! Seriously?

“It isn’t,” I pressed.

“It is.”

Was he in denial?

I stared at him.

Then I tried something else.

“You spend a lot of time away and you don’t tell me who you’re with or what you’re doing. That isn’t right.”

His arms convulsed around me, his eyes got hard and my stomach clutched.

“Don’t go there,” he warned on a low growl.

Oh man. Not this again.

“Go where?” I asked.

“There,” was his one word answer.

“Sam! Seriously?”

He knifed up, shifting me so my ass was to the couch, he got up and moved away.

Yes. It was this again.

And I would not stand for it.

I shot to my feet. “Don’t walk away from me!” I snapped.

He turned back and clipped, “I told you you got me, you got me. Do not question it. Trust it.”

“Okay,” I returned. “And you know you’ve got me. So would you be okay if I took off to do shit you didn’t know what I was doing and meet people you didn’t know who they were?”