Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(19)

Shit!

Okay, now I didn’t want him to be out there, I didn’t want to do this because I didn’t want him to find out I actually was an imposter.

Shit!

I stared at the door. Then I realized I had to go open it.

Shit.

I moved across the room, deep breathing, and, since there was no peephole in the door, I set the chain (you couldn’t be too careful and you should never be stupid, I’d learned that the hard way), opened it and looked out.

It was Sam.

“Hey,” I said swiftly then shut the door, quickly slid off the chain and opened it. “Sorry, have to be safe.”

He didn’t answer and I didn’t notice. I was a flurry of nervous energy.

Therefore, I turned from him and strode across the room so fast my skirt flew out behind me, stating, “I’m ready. Just need to grab my bag.”

I bent to the bed, picked up my bag, shoving in the lip gloss I noticed had rolled out and clasping the gold clasp before straightening at the same time I turned.

And when I turned, my shoulder and arm brushed something very hard and very solid.

My head tipped back to see Sam in my room, right there as in right there.

I froze.

Sam did not.

One of his arms slid along my waist and pulled in and it kept doing that until our h*ps and bellies were brushing. Once he accomplished this and as I was focusing all my energies on not panting and having difficulty with this endeavor considering my brain was focusing all its energies on the exquisite feeling of my belly and h*ps brushing Sam’s, his hand came up, fingers curling around my neck, thumb out and sweeping my jaw.

His head was tipped down, his eyes on me. They were warm, like I’d noticed several times before. They were also intent, again like I’d noticed before. But they were something else, something that made my stomach pitch, my ni**les tingle and heat rush to my cheeks.

Oh my God. I was in danger of either passing out and/or having an orgasm just from this!

“Hi,” he whispered a rough-like-velvet whisper on a jaw brush of his thumb and my legs trembled so badly, my hands automatically lifted to hold onto his also very hard and very solid biceps to stop myself from going down.

“Hi,” I whispered back.

“Sorry I’m late,” he kept whispering, his thumb kept stroking and my legs kept trembling.

“That’s okay.” I also was still whispering.

His eyes moved down to my mouth, my neck, down to my chest then up, slow and lazy and he didn’t release me and his thumb never quit moving. This meant my legs never quit trembling, my stomach pitched again and I felt another tingle, this one lower and way, way better.

Then he murmured, “Fool.”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “Sorry?”

Sam didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Baby, I don’t know what you’re like in bed but if it’s even half the promise of you, your man was a f**king fool.”

My fingers clutched his biceps, the ones still holding my bag digging painfully into the clasp and I felt my lips part.

Holy cow, did he just say that?

Holy cow! Did he just say that?

“Did you just say that?”

Yes, that was what came out of my mouth and it was both lucky and unfortunate it did because it broke the spell and I didn’t want the spell broken but also, if I was going to keep my secrets and all my gifts, the spell had to be broken or I was in imminent danger of jumping his bones and I suspected doing something like that would give it all away and Celeste would be disappointed.

I didn’t want to disappoint Celeste. But I also knew she was far from stupid, she got me and, even if this was Sampson Cooper and I was Kia Clementine, every word of advice she gave me was one hundred percent right so I had to follow it.

To the letter.

The spell was broken when his lips twitched, his thumb stopped moving but his fingers at the side of my neck gave a gentle squeeze before he answered, “Yeah, I just said that.”

“Okey dokey,” I muttered and his lip twitch became a grin. Then, for sanity’s sake and so I wouldn’t fall back and give into the urge of ripping his clothes off, I asked, “Are we going to stand here all night or are you going to take me somewhere I can show off my dress?”

To that, he replied, “We stand her much longer, we won’t be standing so yeah, I’m gonna take you somewhere you can show off that f**kin’ gorgeous dress.”

Before I could fully react to what his words implied or his compliment, he let me go, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door. He stopped us in the hall so he could test the handle to make certain it locked upon catching then he pulled me down the hall.

It was then I finally noticed what he was wearing.

He was in a tuxedo which looked good on him and fit well. I was no expert but it fit him so well, I figured it had to be made for him. And I’d had my hands on his jacket, the material was not anything the like I’d ever touched before. It was nicer in a way I couldn’t describe but definitely nicer and I knew it had to be expensive.

The cool part was, he was wearing a black shirt, no tie at all, the shirt opened at his throat.

Still, even without that accoutrement, the suit and shirt were so well made, he wore them with a natural confidence that was magnetic; they seemed more formal than if he had on a white shirt and bowtie.

I couldn’t say in my past two times with him that I’d noticed his clothes at all. I also couldn’t say I’d spent much time the years I obsessed and fantasized about him I’d noticed them either. I was too busy noticing the beautiful male perfection of his features, the even more beautiful male perfection of his smile and the rough-like-velvet beauty of his voice.