Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(54)
So, I already had proof, when God was handing out talent, he was generous with Sam in a lot of areas.
One of them was stamina.
Good to know.
Chapter Nine
Unclean
My eyes drifted open when I felt the covers drifting down.
Then I felt Sam’s lips at the small of my back, his hand light on my bottom and his lips drifted up while his hand drifted down.
I was on my belly and I turned my head just when his lips drifted over my shoulder and his hand pressed between my legs.
I sucked in breath.
Sam’s eyes caught mine.
“Mouth,” he growled.
Without delay, half asleep but fully turned on, I lifted up and gave him my mouth.
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later I was grinding down on his cock, Sam’s head was tipped back, mine tipped forward and our lips were brushing, our heavy breaths mingling.
I moved to glide up but his arm around my waist tightened, holding me down.
“Baby,” I breathed.
“You’re stayin’ an extra day in Italy, I’m takin’ you to Parma to see the da Vinci,” Sam declared on a rumble that I heard as well as felt… straight through me.
“Okay,” I agreed instantly and tried again to push up but he kept me down.
“Then I’m goin’ to Crete with you.”
I froze; my half-mast eyes opened to full and looked into his.
“Really?” I whispered, uncertain whether to laugh or cry with glee.
“Really,” he whispered back.
I held his eyes and didn’t laugh or cry. I just experienced the glorious feeling of my heart leaping with joy.
Then I agreed, “Okay.”
He smiled.
I smiled back.
Then I tilted my head and kissed him, hard.
His arm loosened and I moved.
* * * * *
I was standing in front of the full-length oval mirror, swiping mascara on my lashes when I heard a key in the lock.
My eyes went to the reflection of the door in the mirror and I watched Sam walk in wearing another pair of faded jeans that fit really well and another shirt, this one light blue, and I knew it was made of linen because it was already wrinkly.
We’d showered in my room and he’d gone to his room to change, leaving me to do my gig in my room.
And I had, including blowing out my hair, doing the Celeste perfume business and donning a sundress I bought with Celeste. This one was shorter than the one Sam had seen, clingier, a lot like a tank top but in dress form, lotus pink and clearly it had Sam’s approval considering his eyes moved to it the minute he cleared the door and didn’t leave it (or, I should say, the ass vicinity of my back in it) as he walked across the room to me.
I also had most of my makeup done.
This meant one of two things. One, Sam primped like a girl, though when he made it to me, I registered he smelled good so I figured he put on some cologne or aftershave, but other than that it didn’t appear his toilette was extensive except to shave. Or two, something held him up.
I watched him in the mirror as, eyes still on my ass, he slid a hand along my ribcage, he fit the front of his body to the back of mine and his eyes moved to my reflection in the mirror (specifically, the breast vicinity).
Before I could figure out whether or not to ask what took him so long, Sam, just like Sam, told me.
“Luci called,” he said, his gaze moving from my br**sts to my eyes.
“She okay?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a woman. She wants to shop and bein’ a man that would indicate she’s not.”
I grinned then leaned forward a bit and went back to swiping mascara while explaining, “She’s perfectly fine.”
“Right,” he muttered and my eyes went from my wand to him watching me and suddenly I felt funny so I stopped.
“Are you saying she wants to shop with you or with me?” I asked.
“She wants to shop with both of us.”
I blinked into the mirror because not only was this voiced with dread; Sam was wearing a borderline look of dread on his face.
Yes, the mighty, huge, hot guy, ex-commando Sampson Cooper appeared to fear shopping.
“Are you…” I hesitated, studying him closely, “scared of shopping?”
His eyes had drifted down to my breast area again but at my question, they shot up to my face then both his arms closed around me, he shoved his face in my neck and burst out laughing.
Hmm. Maybe I read him wrong.
“Scared of shopping,” he muttered into my neck then burst out laughing again, his arms going so tight, they squeezed the breath out of me.
Yes, it would seem I read him wrong.
It appeared he didn’t fear it. He loathed it.
So noted.
“Sam, I need to finish with my mascara,” I told him, his head came up and he kept chuckling as his eyes caught mine.
“So finish,” he invited, his voice still vibrating with residual laughter.
“I can’t, you’re putting me off.”
His brows drew together. “How?”
“I don’t know, holding me, watching me, being hot. That puts a girl off.”
His brows relaxed but his body started shaking again, his mouth spreading in a huge grin through which he asked, “Me being hot puts you off?”
“Not, say, when I’m sitting, drinking wine next to you or, uh… other times. But when I have to concentrate on something important and get it right and you’re watching then, uh… yeah.”