When her breath kicked higher, and her fingers dug into his shoulders and rounded over his ass he knew he’d found the rhythm she needed. “Yes,” she moaned. “Right there.”
Hips rocking, he forced his release back, waiting for the moment Samantha plunged over the cliff. When she did, she called out his name and strained closer, her body pulsating him in a tight cocoon. Blake released the tight hold on his control and followed her into heaven.
****
The weight of Blake’s body pressed her into the sofa, his breathing as ragged as hers. She stretched her leg and ran it down the backside of his. She couldn’t stop smiling. Even when the tremors of pleasure simmered to a twitch, she held him close.
Yeah, like she could have said no to this. And to think, she’d have access to his amazing body and sexual talents for an entire year. The eventual end to their relationship made her pause, but she pushed the images of saying goodbye away and focused on the scent and feel of the man still buried inside her body.
“That was—”
“Incredible,” he finished.
Was it for him? He’d had more lovers than her by far. Hell, she could count hers on one hand and still have three fingers left over. But Blake, he’d have score sheets to compare notes. She wanted to ask but her own insecurities stopped her.
“What’s that look,” he asked, staring down at her face.
“What look?”
“The one of uncertainty, the one you have whenever you tell me you’re too short or some such nonsense.”
Theirs was a relationship based on honesty, but how much could she ask and not sound like a needy, emotional fool. “Was it? Incredible for you?”
“Samantha,” he said on a breath. He lifted a hand to her face and stroked her chin with the back of his finger. His hips were still planted firmly against hers. “Do you notice how well your body fits against mine?”
Her br**sts were flush with his chest, her legs wrapped around his hips. Their lips so close she could taste him still. “Yes.”
“You’re perfect. More passionate than I ever imagined. And although I’m beyond satisfied right now, I don’t think I’m finished with you tonight. This,” he kissed her softly as he spoke, “is the start of a wonderful thing.”
Well, he certainly knew how to make a woman smile, even after her orgasm.
Blake unfolded from her arms long enough to stand. Then he picked her up and started walking from the room.
Samantha glanced at the floor with horror. “Blake, our clothes.”
He chuckled, ignored her words, and carried her up the stairs to his room where he made good on his earlier threat.
****
By the time she’d made it downstairs the following day, it was late morning. Their clothes had been cleaned up, the dishes done. A picture of the two of them caught in the act of making love would have been the only thing plainer than the message left for the staff to find. Her face was hot with embarrassment and she lowered her gaze every time she passed Mary or Louisa the next day. The women were terribly polite. In fact, Samantha would have rather they nudge her arm and give her a thumbs up than act as if they cleaned up after Blake and his lovers every week.
As it was, Samantha broached the subject of previous lovers to Blake as they packed their clothes. “So, Blake,” she started all-innocent like. “Tell me, will I find any remnants of lovers past hidden in any of your dressers?”
He stopped and stood to stare at her, but she didn’t skip a step while packing. After all, she was the one who needed to pack clothes. Blake had all he needed on two continents.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You know… did Vanessa have a drawer of her own here, or Jacqueline?”
His stare bored holes into her back, but she refused to look him in the eye. She shouldn’t care, but she wanted to know if he entertained his lovers in his home often.
“I never found anyone drawer-worthy,” he told her.
Well, that was something. “Not even one panty left behind?”
She kept packing, not looking his way. I’m pathetic.
“Samantha?” He’d moved to stand behind her. His hands reached out and touched both her shoulders to turn her toward him. His grey eyes caught hers. “I’ve only had this home for four years. You’re the only woman who’s slept in my bed.”
An inner smile blossomed deep in her chest but she held it from spreading over her lips, not wanting him to see how much his words pleased her.
Samantha nodded.
He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Would it bother you if there had been a drawer full of another woman’s things?”
It shouldn’t. Three weeks ago, they were strangers. “Well, I guess not…” Hell, yes.
“Samantha?” Her name was drawn out in a slow knowing slide.
“Okay, yes,” she confessed. “Because…” She searched for a valid excuse and found one within easy reach. “Your staff will think better of me, or us… as a couple, if I’m not just a number here at the house.”
Pathetic. She shouldn’t be trying to be more than a number. She should, however, be trying to build barriers around her heart, her feelings, and avoiding any emotional attachment to the man staring deep in her eyes.
“You’re not a number, Samantha. If you ever feel like the staff here, or in Europe, are treating you otherwise, you need to let me know.”
She shook her head. “Everyone’s been wonderful.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed briefly, as if trying to solve a riddle, then he turned away to finish his minimal packing.