Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“I don’t know how to be what you need,” I said at last, alternating bites of pasta with sips of water so my stomach stayed calm despite the mess inside my brain.
“How do you know what I need?” Sam glared at me. And this wasn’t a drink-your-water or a go-home-and-rest stare. This was Sam full-on pissed, eyes glinting like steel in the sunlight, full mouth a thin, harsh line, and fist clenched around his fork. “I’m serious. You’ve been gone twenty years and only back a matter of days. Maybe I’m the kinky one. You don’t know. Maybe I have a closet full of sexy props and a new hookup every weekend.”
“You’re right. I don’t know.” Tilting my head, I forced myself to see him as he was before me, without the layers of the past between us. Here was a hot dude over thirty who worked with the public daily. Surely, he had offers. “It’s stupid, but I assumed you were still a virgin. And it’s cool either way. I guess I always thought you’d be in the wait-till-marriage camp or at least wait-until-serious. And maybe you’ve had serious.” A terrible, awful thought hit me, making sweat snake down the back of my borrowed T-shirt. “Oh crap. Are you dating someone now? Have I been cramping your style?”
“The only thing you’re cramping is my brain.” Sam groaned and pushed his half-eaten plate away before resting his head on the table. “And I hate that your assumption isn’t wrong. It’s the same one everyone in Safe Harbor has. To all of you, I’ll always be the cute freckle-faced kid with the big crush telling people I want to wait for my future husband.”
“I don’t see you as a kid,” I said gently when he raised his head. “That was definitely a grown-up kiss in the kitchen.”
“It was. And it wasn’t my first kiss, but it was probably the best.” His tone was somewhere between defensive and defeated. “And I wish I could do the hookup scene, wish I had more than an eReader filled with smutty books and a hyperactive imagination.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having a strong understanding of your personal moral code.” I hoped I sounded at least somewhat professional, not revealing how intrigued I was by the revelation about his choice in books. “It’s admirable.”
“Nah.” He shook his head sadly. “Being Saint Sam is exhausting. But I can’t help wanting sex to mean something, which was probably smart when I was younger. But now I’m thirty-five, and that serious thing never quite materialized. Anyone local knows I’m the settling-down type and tends to steer clear. My reputation precedes me.”
“I’m sorry.” I reached across the table for his hand, but he returned it to his lap. “You deserve the kind of relationship you want. You do. You deserve something meaningful and serious. What I meant earlier was that I have no clue how to give someone that. I’m terrible at relationships.”
Sam snorted like he didn’t believe me.
“I am,” I insisted. “My experience with dating and sex is decidedly depressing. Few drunken hookups in college. I was a good safety date to sorority parties, and later, I could be counted on for cocktail parties to make witty conversation and not embarrass anyone. I’m not bad arm candy for the upwardly mobile crowd of any gender, but I never really understood how to play the game beyond a few casual dates. I couldn’t make relationships work. Something was always missing.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“Me too. And at least you know what you want. My most serious, longest relationship was a secret fling with a professional Domme.” I paused, waiting for him to gasp or otherwise react, but he gestured for me to continue, not looking in the least horrified. “I thought maybe Rochelle and I were actual friend-friends and not just client-friends, but she split as soon as the SEC news hit. Couldn’t risk the reputation hit, and I guess I’m a lot less attractive without cash in my pockets.”
“You’re plenty attractive.” Sam was loyal as ever, but the heat in his eyes, the memory of that kiss was new. Standing, he cleared our plates before turning back toward me with a thoughtful expression. “And I’m jealous of your Domme friend. She got to boss you around, make you listen. Bet you took better care of yourself when she was around.”
“It wasn’t that sort of thing.” I leaned back on the bench. By my feet, Buttercup let out a soft huff. Sam was such a good person. An optimist. And so, so much sweeter than I possibly deserved.
“What sort of thing was it?” he demanded as he loaded the dishwasher. “I’d say you won’t shock me, but maybe it would be more accurate to say, you can tell me. I won’t judge.”