Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(49)

Oh.

My.

God.

He turned me into his arms again as I tilted my head back to look at him.

“Ohmigod,” I whispered when my eyes found his.

“That shit happens to me all the time, baby.”

I knew that. I’d seen him with a variety of babes. But none of them was me even though I wished they were me.

And now they could be!

Oh.

My.

God!

He studied me as I freaked out.

Then I asked him, “Doesn’t that freak you out?”

“No.”

“But… we barely know each other!” I cried, yes, cried and loud.

He pulled me closer, his arms getting tight and his face dipping close to mine.

Then he asked, “This feel good?”

“What?”

“Us.”

I sucked in breath at his question.

Sam kept speaking and when he did he yet again rocked my world.

“It does to me. That shit, it’s my life. I can’t care. I did, I’d lose it. So I see it or live it, then I let it go. Now, I’m worried about you ‘cause this feels good. If it feels this good now, that means it could get better. What happens tonight is close to what happened this morning, it’s definitely gonna get better. But right now, it feels good enough I give a shit about it stayin’ this good, enough to work at it, enough to make it better. And I don’t need to find a woman I finally feel good with and have her not able to handle the shit that comes with me.”

I was still holding my breath and staring at him.

“Kia.”

I kept holding my breath and staring at him.

His face got even closer and his arms gave me a squeeze.

“Kia, baby, breathe.”

I let out my breath.

What I didn’t do was speak. Sam waited but my brain was too full with the idea of “us”, I couldn’t get it together to answer.

“Baby, I need to know if you can handle the shit that comes with me,” he prompted gently.

That was when I blurted, “I liked Sampson Cooper not because he was hot and rich and cool. I liked Sampson Cooper because my husband was a dick who treated me like shit and I knew Sampson Cooper was a good man, a decent man, a loyal man and I preferred to spend my time with that man not with my husband.”

It was Sam’s turn not to speak.

I kept talking.

“But I like Sam Cooper better.”

Sam closed his eyes.

And it was my turn to give him a squeeze and when I did, he opened his eyes and I whispered, “So, yeah. Definitely yeah. I can handle the shit that comes with you just as long as it comes with you.”

I watched his eyes heat right before his hand slid up my back, into my hair, cupping the back of my head, tilting it and his mouth slammed down on mine.

Then he kissed me, not like he’d been doing all day, sweet lip touches that settled in my soul.

No.

Like he did that morning.

A hot, wet, deep kiss with lots of brilliant tongue action that made my knees get weak.

I held on and kissed him back.

It… was… brilliant.

Then he tore his mouth from mine, growled, “Hotel,” and he started us walking again.

This time faster.

A lot faster.

Oh.

Man.

Chapter Eight

Bury Him

Sam led us directly to my room, no discussion over “yours” or “mine”.

Decisive.

He was not wasting any time.

But by the time we got there, I was not so sure about “us” anymore.

In fact, I’d convinced myself this was all a huge mistake.

And I’d convinced myself of this because I’d had one lover.

Cooter.

And I found out that morning, just with the little I did with Sam, that Cooter wasn’t very good at what he did and even with experience with me and whoever else he slept with along the way, he didn’t get any better. And this was true even before he started hitting me which made me want nothing to do with my husband touching me.

The sorry fact was, I never really enjoyed sex with Cooter. I tried but never got there. We had our moments, sure. But they were few and they caused no fireworks. Sparklers, maybe, but those sputtered out and died.

There was a pocket of time I tried to be all I could be for Cooter in bed in hopes that would make him happy enough so he would be less inclined to get pissed and take it out on me.

This did not work and I quit trying.

But it stood to reason that Cooter went to Vanessa and any of the other women he might or might not have cheated on me with those times he was late home because it was actually me who wasn’t good at it. I was not his first but he was my first and only and he didn’t exactly take his time to teach me nor did he make our bed a safe place to learn.

And it was clear with the first kiss Sam and I had shared that I didn’t know what I was doing. Just with kissing. So the rest of it might be even worse.

And that couldn’t happen.

It couldn’t.

After the last twenty-four hours with Sam, it couldn’t end like that.

The horrible kiss was humiliating enough, if I couldn’t satisfy Sam in bed that would be mortifying.

And by the time we got to my door, I’d convinced myself that was what was going to happen. That hot kiss with Sam this morning and the one five minutes ago were flukes.