Текст книги "The Fall Up"

Автор книги: Aly Martinez

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WHAT THE FUCK had I done? Oh, that’s right. I’d kissed Sam.

A freaking stranger.

Who was suicidal!

While standing on a bridge.

While he’d thought I was suicidal as well.

But, worse than all of that, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I’d replayed it in my mind at least a thousand times since I’d walked away from him.

I’d made poor choices with men in the past. I was far from the angel the media portrayed me as. But I had a sneaking suspicion that, if the news outlets got ahold of this little story, it wouldn’t have the romantic spin my stomach took every time I thought about the moment his lips had touched mine.

My steps were a little lighter that night while I was performing for thousands on stage. My thoughts weren’t filled with dread and guilt. Instead, they were focused on the top of that bridge¸ waiting for the moment I could return.

To Sam.

The show was entirely too long, but I snuck out of the backstage after party about thirty excruciating seconds after it’d started. Like a Freudian slip, I left my wig at home. I should have stopped to pick it up or at least checked to see if my stylist had something I could borrow, but after the concert that night, I just wanted some fresh air and a few moments alone.

And, by that, I meant a cloud of smoke and the sexy and intriguing man who accompanied it.

“You look better as a brunette,” Sam announced as he sauntered up next to me with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

A smile pulled at one side of my mouth.

He was wearing jeans and a black, long-sleeve button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, which drew my eyes down to the colored inked on his arms, and I wondered what they meant. But, seeing as my heart was racing and I couldn’t figure why I was suddenly nervous around this man, I decided to give up on the deeper meaning behind his tattoos and worry about covering my clammy palms instead.

“No jacket again?” I asked, pulling the beanie low over my curls.

“Any chance tomorrow night you’re going to lose the shades?” he replied, ignoring my question.

“Not likely.”

“Your legs are healing up well,” he stated, leaning on the railing beside me.

“They looked a lot worse than they were.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes, which I noticed were the most amazing shade of gold. Not quite hazel, but definitely not brown.

Damn it! Stop ogling the hot, suicidal man!

I flipped my gaze back to the water. “Your hand looks better tonight.”

He paused just before he got the cigarette to his mouth. “You noticed? I was worried you were gonna stop checking me out after you drove off with another man last night,” he said roughly, causing me to swing my head to face him. “Is he the one who gave you the bruises?”

Ugh!

“What? No! Besides, I told you there is no him. I fell down the stairs.”

“Whatever.” He brushed my honest answer off, but thankfully, his attitude also seemed to disappear. “So, you feeling better tonight?”

“Actually, yes. Now, let me see your hand.”

He twisted his lips, but he lifted it for me to inspect his cut.

“What’d you do?”

“Splintered it on a guitar.”

Now that perked my attention. “You’re a musician?” I asked as the idea of Sam strumming beside me made my cheeks heat.

I tried to hide my face by refocusing on his palm, even though I had no idea what I was looking at. I just wasn’t ready to drop his hand yet.

“Not in the least. I tore it apart to make a bookshelf.”

My gaze snapped to his. “A bookshelf?”

“Yeah. Just cut off the front and then added shelves.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and started scrolling through pictures. It took him a minute to find the image he wanted, and it wasn’t lost on me that he did it one-handed.

What the fuck am I doing?

Again.

After dropping his hand, I tugged my beanie down as he thrust his phone in my face.

Sure enough, there was an acoustic guitar with the front cut off and three wooden shelves running horizontal inside the body.

“It’s for kids books, but I guess you could use it for spices or something too. They’d have to be short though” He sidled up beside me so we could look at the picture together. “Or maybe some little knickknacks? I don’t know.”

“Wow,” I breathed. “You made that?” While he was close, I stole a deep breath of the musky scent of Sam’s cologne. He shouldn’t have smelled that good—not while smoking a cigarette. But he absolutely did, so I took another not-so-conspicuous whiff.

“Yep,” he boasted proudly, flashing me a megawatt grin my hidden gaze lingered on a little too long.

Okay, that’s a bit of an understatement. I stared.

And his smile grew as he stared at me…staring at him.

And it continued.

For entirely too long.

But not nearly long enough.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he finally asked, snapping me out of my stupor.

“It’s just…” You’re sexy. “I mean…” And funny. “I, uh…” And happy. I suddenly got my thoughts together and shook off whatever hypnotic trance the memories of his mouth against mine had put me in. “You just don’t strike me as someone who would want to kill himself,” I announced.

His smile instantly disappeared and his eyes jumped to the ground as his black Converse nervously tapped against the railing. “Not everyone does.”

I should have been a decent human being and not watched such an obviously overwhelming moment for him, but the pain that had appeared on his face rendered me unable to look away. Frankly, in that moment, he more than looked the part of a man who wanted to end it all, and it scared the hell out of me.

I might have been up there too, but I knew what was going on in my head. I wasn’t going to jump off that bridge, but suddenly, I worried that Sam couldn’t honestly say the same.

My pulse spiked as he struggled to force down the demon my innocent observation had somehow unleashed. I wanted to help, but I had no idea what the hell to do. I was clueless as to the war he was waging behind those golden eyes. I barely knew the man breaking down in front of me, much less how to comfort him—or if he even wanted to be comforted.

The only thing I knew for sure was that I had to get him off that bridge.

“I’m… Hey, I’m sorry. Listen, I’m starving. Any chance you want to go grab a bite to eat?”

He swallowed hard then asked the ground, “You asking me out?” The question was teasing, but his voice was gravelly and packed with unshed emotion.

Mine wasn’t much better, breaking as I nervously replied, “I really just want to get off this bridge right now.”

His head popped up, and I offered him a tight smile he seemed to accept as my answer. As he focused on me, the color began to slide back into his face.

“Okay,” he agreed.

I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded entirely too many times. Dropping his cigarette to the ground, he took a step in my direction. He soothingly rubbed my arm, and I couldn’t pretend that it didn’t help calm my nerves, but that wasn’t the only reason I leaned into his touch.

A gentle smile played on his lips as he brushed the curls off my neck and whispered, “I know a little Puerto Rican restaurant that’s open until two. You good with that?”

“That works,” I mumbled.

His eyes studied my face as he asked, “You okay?”

“Are you?” I countered.

He didn’t bother with a response. Resting a hand on the small of my back, he guided me toward the foot of the bridge.

We didn’t chat on the way down. Only a few stolen glances and shy smiles were exchanged. I hated feeling awkward with Sam, but judging by the way he watched me out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t like it much, either.

“You want to ride with me?” he asked, spinning a keychain around his finger when we got to the parking area. All signs of his earlier distress had surprisingly vanished.

“Umm…” I stalled, not wanting to acknowledge my driver waiting for me in the car. However, I was fearful that Devon’s forehead vein would rupture if I disappeared with a random guy—even if Sam was only random to him. “I, uh… I’m not sure. Maybe I can just meet you there or something.”

He lifted a finger and tapped on the bridge of my glasses. “You gonna wear those all night?”

“I haven’t made it that far.” I smiled tightly.

“Well, how about this? Let’s start with you telling me your name. Then we’ll deal with the carpool and sunglasses. After you accosted me with your mouth last night, we’re practically dating. I should probably know your name so I can go ahead and buy our matching airbrushed license plates.”

I threw four fingers up. “Four-eva.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “The fact that you got that joke is so fucking sexy.”

My cheeks heated as I attempted to cover with more humor. “Besides, I owe you nothing. If I remember correctly, you seemed to enjoy that accosting. Wait. How did it go?” I stopped to tap on my chin then gave a breathy moan, mimicking his from the night before.

“Oh, come on. It was a manly moan and you know it,” he flirted, flashing me a bright grin that warmed places other than just my cheeks.

The absence of that feeling in my life might have been the only reason I let my guard fall away. I couldn’t restrain myself anymore. I scooted forward, and as I hoped, Sam slid his arms around my waist, tugging me against his chest.

“Is your boyfriend going to kill me for this?” He nodded to my car only a few yards away.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whispered as my breathing began to speed.

I shouldn’t tell him.

I was losing my mind.

It was one kiss that probably meant nothing to him.

Maybe that was true, but in the few days since I’d gotten to know Sam, he had begun to mean a whole lot of something to me.

My heart pounded in my chest as I weighed my options.

I can’t risk him telling the whole world about my dirty little bridge secret.

I should just walk away before the headline “Levee Williams is suicidal” paints the front page of nearly every tabloid imaginable.

But, for reasons that could only be explained by the safety I felt when I broke down in Sam’s arms, I announced, “My name’s Levee.”

He tipped his head to the side in surprise. “Really? Levy, like the tax or the pop princess?”

Shit.

“Levee, like the embankment used to prevent the overflow of a river.”

His head snapped back as he barked a laugh. “True story.”

I didn’t quite understand his reaction, but I steeled myself for worse.

Squeezing an arm between us, I pulled my sunglasses off and quietly finished, “And the pop princess.”

His eyes, not surprisingly, flashed wide, but his words were not at all what I’d expected.

Cupping my jaw, his callused thumb rubbed over my cheekbone. “No bruises,” he breathed, visible relief paining his face.

My mouth quirked in confusion. “What?”

Placing his other hand on my cheek, he framed my face. “Your shades—they weren’t to cover bruises.”

“Jesus, Sam. I told you no one was hurting me. I tripped down some stairs.”

“Yeah, but everyone uses that excuse,” he said through an infectious smile.

“I fell off the stage during rehearsals the other night. Some asshole leaked the video. It’s probably trending right about now if you need proof.”

He laughed. “That’s really fucking good news. I was worried about you.”

I was worried about him.

“Well, don’t. I’m fine.”

He angled his head, giving me a side-eye that told me he wasn’t buying it. He was probably right, but I rolled my eyes. Once again, he laughed, but this time, he brushed his lips against mine.

“So, the guy in the car?”

I pressed to my toes and grazed my lips against his again. “Bodyguard.”

Nipping at my mouth, he pulled me even tighter against his firm body. “You should fire him”—kiss—“for letting you go up a bridge every night alone.” Kiss.

I smiled against his lips. “I’d fire him if he followed me.”

“I follow you.” He smirked. Kiss.

“Every celebrity needs a stalker I guess. The good news is I happen to like mine.”

“That definitely makes my job that much easier.” He licked his lips in a way that sent tingles over my body. A soft moan escaped my mouth when his tongue retreated.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine for something. There was nothing to be found except lust.

“Kiss me,” I repeated.

He all-too-willingly obliged my plea and crushed his mouth to mine. It wasn’t timid or laced with concern like the kiss from the night before. It was deep and filled with indescribable relief.

He was kissing me.

“I’m sorry I taste like smoke,” he murmured against my mouth. “Damn it, I’m ruining the mango.”

I giggled, sliding my hands up his sculpted back. Sam might not have been thick, but taut muscles curved his lean body.

“It’s just gum,” I said. “I’ll give you some next time.”

“Definitely.” He stopped kissing me and leaned his forehead to mine. “Levee, it’s really fucking good to meet you.” He sighed and then punctuated it with another kiss. “Now, let me buy you some of the best rice and beans you will ever taste at midnight on a Wednesday.”

“Okay,” I replied, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace.

“So, how does this work?” He shoved a hand in his pocket and rocked to his toes. “Do you have an entourage or just the bodyguard you need to take with us?” He teasingly poked my ribs.

It was my turn to give him the side-eye. He was acting entirely too nonchalant about my little identity reveal.

“Did you know it was me all along?”

“What? No! I would have immediately tried to have sex with you if I’d known,” he answered frankly.

“Great. Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“No, it was supposed to be a joke, princess.”

I leveled him with a glare. “Don’t.”

He laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, you were trying to get in my pants way before I was trying to get in yours.” Then he grinned something so beautiful that my eyes dropped to his mouth before I could even stop them.

“Can we just go eat?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he fought a smile. “Is that disappointment I sense? Levee, do you want me to try to sleep with you?”

“No,” I scoffed, looking away.

When my gaze drifted back to his face, he was sporting another huge grin, and just like it had earlier, it did some seriously warm things to me.

“Then I won’t.”

“Good,” I replied quickly.

“Good,” he repeated, but his eyes bounced to my mouth and his smile spread confidently.

“Oh God, can we just get some food now? This is getting awkward,” I huffed.

“More awkward than making out with your stalker?”

I swayed my head in consideration. “It’s getting there.”

His shoulders shook as he chuckled until something caught his attention over my shoulder. “I think you’re being summoned.” He pointed to the headlights flashing at us across the parking lot.

“Yeah, that’s Devon, my um…bodyguard.”

“Soon-to-be ex-bodyguard?”

“Uh, no. He’s been with me for years. I hated him at first, but now, he comes to my house for Christmas dinner. I’m not firing him for respecting my decisions.”

He huffed. “All right. All right. I get it. He’s your Kevin Costner.”

“Wow. You were so much more charming from behind my shades.”

I actually adored that he wasn’t acting stiff or freaking out on me. He was just…Sam.

“You’re full of it.” He winked.

I rolled my eyes. There was no use arguing with him. I really was full of it. Sam was even better now—and he was already intoxicating. Thankfully, that remained locked in my own head.

“Come on. Devon can drive.”

He rested his hand on my lower back. Only, this time, I didn’t even pretend not to arch into his touch as I returned his flirty wink.

Leaning forward, he brushed my hair off my shoulder and whispered, “Game on,” into my ear as he slid his hand down a fraction of an inch, moving it from respectable territory to just above my ass.

But, as far as I was concerned, not nearly low enough.

AFTER MEETING HER hulking bodyguard—who, thankfully, didn’t resemble Kevin Costner in the least—he drove us both the mile and a half to Raíces. When he parked us out back, I tried to open the door to lead Levee inside, but he slammed it in my face. Levee laughed and informed me that Devon needed to “scope it out first.” The man would let her wander up the side of a bridge nightly, but God forbid she walk into a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant where the biggest worry would be stumbling down the steps after too many sangrias.

However, I didn’t argue. I assumed they had a system. And besides, Levee was curled up under my arm with her head resting on my shoulder. As far as I was concerned, we could have waited in the back of that SUV all night. During those twenty minutes, we didn’t talk much. I’d drawn circles on her arm, and even though she later denied it, she’d fallen asleep at one point. I was absolutely in no rush.

When we finally made it inside, Raíces was strangely empty. The place wasn’t usually packed, but it was never a ghost town. I had a sneaking suspicion Devon wasn’t paying for our dinner as he stood with the owner, swiping a black American Express.

I gave Levee a suspicious glance as she peeked up at me through her lashes, embarrassed. Tossing her a reassuring smile, I kissed the top of her head. It wasn’t like I was going to complain about some quiet time.

Two beers, three sangrias, and an order of mofongo and plantain chips later, I was sitting across the table from one of the biggest celebrities in the music industry.

But that wasn’t why my cheeks hurt from smiling. Or why my hands itched to touch her. Or why I had forgotten about the entire world outside that restaurant.

Of course I’d been shocked when Levee had pulled her sunglasses off, but really, I’d been just so fucking relieved that her life wasn’t nearly as hard as I had speculated over the last week. It was a huge burden off my shoulders for me to know that she had the money and support system in place to take care of her issues. She wasn’t some lonely woman navigating life alone. Kidnapping wouldn’t be necessary. I could focus on getting to know the real person behind the shades. The one I had so fiercely connected with over the last week.

“You can’t hold that against me. I mean, I like your music too. I was trying to be honest.” I laughed as her mouth hung open in mock horror.

Clinking her glass of sangria against my beer, she said, “I can’t believe you like Henry more than me! Well, I guess the good news is that Henry would probably prefer you over me too.”

“Hey! I’m not gay. I just said I like one of his songs. One.” I waved a single finger in her direction.

“Seriously, this is the story of my life. He’s going to try to woo you.”

I stabbed my thumb toward my chest. “Straight.”

“Oh please. Far bigger men than you have swapped teams for Henry.”

“Okay, slow down there, princess. No one is switching teams. I’m trying to woo you with cheap sangria right now. One step at a time, please.”

“I swear to God, Sam. Stop calling me princess,” she demanded, but one corner of her lips twitched. And I only noticed it because I was watching her mouth—intently.

“It’s just… Designer Shoes doesn’t have the same oomph to it.”

“You’ve spent the last week trying to get my name. Use it,” she snapped but hid her amusement by lifting the glass to her lips.

Reaching across the table, I pressed up on the bottom of her drink. “Clearly, with that attitude, you haven’t been wooed properly. You should have more.”

“Stop,” she laughed, spilling the red liquid down her chin as she fought to set the glass back down.

After nabbing my napkin, I wiped it off her face while she cleaned it from her lap.

“Great,” she said. “I’m a mess now.”

“Well, that just makes us a matching pair.” I pointed to my shirt where, earlier, she had accidently flung sauce on me.

“I told you I was sorry. That plantain chip went rogue. You can’t hold me responsible for that.”

I shook my head, sliding my hand across the table to intertwine our fingers.

Staring down at our joined hands, she whispered, “This is fun.”

I gave her a squeeze. She wasn’t wrong. It was, by far, the best night I’d had in as long as I could remember. Amazing. Yes. Surreal. Incredibly. I could easily go so far as to say great.

Conversation flowed easily. She made me laugh, and I made her scowl—then laugh. We didn’t talk about the heavy. I didn’t ask her why she was on that bridge every night, and she didn’t ask me, either. We just bullshitted like old friends.

It was great.

She was great.

I had an overwhelming need to keep her great.

“What’s your last name?” she asked, dropping her napkin on the table.

“Rivers.”

“Shut up. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I dragged a rePURPOSEd card from my wallet and slid it across the table. “Just think how fun your name would be if we got married.” I winked.

She glared.

“What? Too soon?”

“By, like, ten years.”

“Ten years? The sangria is not that bad.” I feigned injury.

She barked a laugh. “So, tell me about rePURPOSEd?”

“I take junk, repurpose it, then sell it as new. Too easy. Rich people love it.” I paused. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Guitar bookshelves?”

“Yep.”

She flipped my hand over and traced a finger around the cut on my palm. Tingles radiated out from her touch. I was done keeping my hands to myself. I desperately wanted the connection the table had been denying me all night.

Pushing my chair away, I gave her hand a squeeze. “C’mere.”

Her cheeks pinked as she stood and slowly closed the distance between us. With a quick tug, I pulled her off-balance and into my lap.

Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip. I leaned in for a welcomed taste, and the sweet fruit from the sangria covered the mango I’d come to expect. “I want to see you again.”

A shy-schoolgirl blush tinted her cheeks even darker. “We do kinda have a standing date for tomorrow night on the bridge.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I glided a hand up her back, and as if she had been waiting for a sign, hers seductively slid under the edge of my shirt. Her smooth fingers teasing my skin stole my breath. I gasped and caught her wrist. “I want to see you again, but not on the bridge.”

“Okay,” she whispered, brushing her lips against mine.

She was squirming on my lap. I couldn’t be responsible for the stir of my cock—or the way she seemed to approve by shifting her weight to press against it. I scanned the room, suddenly aware that I was about to maul her in public, and caught sight of Devon escorting our waitress and the owner into the kitchen.

Maybe he is good for something.

With our audience gone, I took her mouth indecently. She responded by straddling my lap, her dress inching up as she planted her core directly over my zipper. I groaned and thrust a hand into her hair, pulling her head back and moving my assault to her neck.

“You drunk?” I asked between nips.

“A little,” she moaned, grinding a circle in my lap.

Fuck. Me.

“I see my wooing worked.”

She turned her head to the side, encouraging me to continue.

God, did I want to continue. Just not in the middle of a restaurant with a room full of people corralled in the kitchen. But how could I get her anywhere else without looking like a jackass who was just trying to sleep with the celebrity? I knew the girl on the bridge, and everyone knew Levee Williams. But I needed her to get to know Sam Rivers…fast.

Palming each side of her face, I dropped my forehead to hers. “I’m about to make things awkward. It’s kinda what I do. Just bear with me.”

She licked her lips, and I was forced to kiss her again. When I finally came back up for air, I continued.

“My name is Samuel Nathan Rivers. I’m twenty-seven. Aquarius. No criminal history. I have a clean bill of health. I’m a democrat, but for God’s sake, do not tell my mom. I own a furniture shop and clear six figures a year. I’m not interested in your money. I’ll show you my tax return if need be. I’m also not a super-fan interested in your fame. But, for the love of all that’s holy, I need you, Designer Shoes, to come home with me.”

Her eyes lit. “Devon would have a stroke.” She pushed my hands off her face in order to take my mouth again.

A frustrated growl rumbled in my chest. My cock wasn’t concerned in the least about Devon’s health.

“Levee,” I grumbled as she folded her arms around my shoulders, pressing her chest against mine. “Devon can—”

“But you can come home with me.”

God fucking bless America.

Suddenly, I rose to my feet with her still wrapped around me. “Check please,” I called out loudly, digging into my back pocket for my wallet with one hand while she clung to me, giggling.

I couldn’t help my smile as she buried her face in my neck and slid down to the ground.

“I’m going to the restroom. If you must, now’s the time to smoke. I don’t want you to have a heart attack before I get you naked.” She innocently batted her eyelashes at me as if she hadn’t just whispered sweet nothings directly to my cock.

I bit my lip, watching her ass sway as she walked away.

Scrubbing my face, I tried to get myself together while fighting the biggest shit-eating grin known to man. When I looked up, Devon was glowering at me with his arms crossed over his massive chest.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I told him as I tossed a wad of cash on the table.

“I don’t fucking like this,” he snarled. “She’s drunk and not thinking straight.”

“She’s tipsy,” I amended—just as much for him as for me.

She isn’t really drunk. Is she?

Whatever. I was a stand-up guy. I liked her, and judging by the way she had been rolling her body against mine, she liked at least part of me, too.

“Look, man. I realize this is the first time we’ve met, but Levee and I have been seeing each other for the last week…. Kinda. Or…something like that.” I scratched the back of my head. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Bullshit,” he growled.

I pointedly lifted my eyebrows. “You know what you do need to worry about though? Her going up that bridge every night. One of these days, she’s not going to come back down if you don’t do something about it.”

“Excuse me?” He took a menacing step in my direction.

I stole a glance around him at the empty hall Levee had disappeared down. “Look, you did not hear this from me, but I know for a fact that she’s considered jumping. I’m not sure if she’s suicidal or just depressed, but she needs help. I’m doing what I can to keep her walking down every night, but I need you to get word to her family or whoever she’s close to that she needs serious help.”

“No way,” he scoffed, but I could tell his gears were spinning.

“I like her, okay? A lot. Even before I knew her name. But I don’t know her like you do. I can only do so much.”

He narrowed his eyes and stared at me suspiciously, but the seed had been planted.

“Do not take her back to that bridge alone anymore. If I’m there, I’ll take care of her. I swear. But if I’m not, you drive her anywhere in the world but that bridge.” I held his stare, trying to transfer the truth. He had no reason to trust me, but he also had no reason not to.

Finally, his shoulders slacked and he thrust a rough hand into his jet-black hair. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath.

I heard the door to the bathroom open, so I busied myself by digging my cigarettes out of my pocket. “She just needs help,” I whispered one last time.

“I’ll take care of it,” he responded, still notably shocked, but my anxiety melted away.

I was going to do whatever I had to do to make sure Levee never stepped off that bridge, but it was no longer my sole responsibility. I didn’t know where this thing with her was going. She could disappear on me tomorrow, but now, I could sleep easier knowing that someone else knew what was going on in her head.

I would have killed for that tip about Anne.

“Hey, beautiful,” I purred as Levee rounded the corner, her eyes flashing between Devon and me.

“Everything okay?” she asked with freshly painted-red lips.

“It is now.” After looping an arm around her waist, I pulled her against me and kissed her cheek, catching a whiff of fresh mango on her breath when she sighed. “I’m going to smoke. I’ll meet you in the car.” Tossing her a wink, I slid my hand down to her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze before sauntering out the back door.

I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I couldn’t even explain it to myself. But I knew that, if I didn’t strip Sam Rivers naked in the next thirty minutes, I was going to implode. I hadn’t been with anyone in well over a year, and while I could easily blame my insatiable desire on being hard up, that would have been a complete and utter lie.

I’d spent the last few hours staring at various parts of his body until I had been physically unable to take it anymore. Whether it was his inked forearms, which flexed each time he lifted that beer, the way those plump lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, or even the way he purposely raked his teeth over his bottom lip each time he placed it back on the table, I had no idea. But watching that man drink a fucking beer, much less two of them, had been damn near excruciating. He’d talked and made jokes while I’d dreamed about his callused hands gliding over my skin. That had been the easy part though. He was rugged and gorgeous. I couldn’t help but to be physically attracted to him.

The hard part was when I envisioned Sam actually wanting to stay with me once the novelty was gone. My life was chaotic, and not just because I lived it in the public eye. I brought on most of the craziness myself, exhausting myself on stage, existing on nourishment from vending machines, and fighting back tears at the bedsides of dying children.

But that night with Sam, my life didn’t seem so overwhelming.

Maybe it was the sangria, but I thought it had more to do with him.

I wasn’t usually the type of girl to take a man home, but Sam did things to me, most of which started with his mouth, and as I watched his lean body strolling back to my car, I hoped they all ended that way, too.

I didn’t want to get laid just to share an orgasm with another warm body.

I wanted Sam.

All of him.

But I really just wanted to keep him.

“Fuck,” he bit out as I slung my leg over his hips the moment his ass touched the leather seat.

I silenced him with my mouth, gliding a hand up his nape and into his hair. His dick became beautifully thick between us.

“Levee, wait,” he moaned into my mouth, but he palmed my ass, rocking me forward. “Wait. Wait. Wait. Not here.”