Bringing Down Sam (22 page)

Not saying a word, she walked across the hallway into the second bedroom, which served as an office, storage room and mini-gym. He followed her, pausing in the doorway of the room to watch as she turned to face him. Sam’s pulse pounded wildly as he watched her unbutton her pants. They fell to her feet in a heap, but he barely noticed.

“They match the bra,” he muttered thickly as he spied the skimpy panties she’d had on beneath. Black, lacy, and cut high on the hip, they were sinfully sexy and meant for one thing: taking off.

Reaching for the buttons at his wrists, Sam slipped them free, then unfastened the ones running down the front of his shirt. She watched as he shrugged it off and dropped it to the floor. When he reached to unbutton his slacks, Eve stepped back, silently beckoning him deeper into the room with a crook of one index finger. He followed. Of course.

When she backed against the padded weight bench, Eve shrugged her black lace panties off and let them fall. He watched every movement, studying her as she slowly sat down.

Reaching out to take his hand, she whispered, “Let me.”

Sam stepped closer, watching as she unfastened his trousers, leaning forward to push them off his hips. Her breasts brushed the top of his thighs and he groaned. “You’re killing me.”

“My, my, impatient to work out, aren’t you?” she asked, a note of naughty teasing in her voice.

He nodded, narrowing his eyes as she reached out to remove the rest of his clothes. He would swear she intentionally brushed her cheek against his hip, letting her warm breaths taunt him through the cotton of his shorts, before she tugged them down. Sam had to close his eyes at the sudden view of Eve’s blonde hair falling over his cock as she pushed the boxer-briefs to the floor.

“Dangerous ground, Eve, very dangerous ground,” he managed to bite out between clenched teeth.

She laughed, low, sultry. Looking up at him with huge, guileless blue eyes, she shrugged daintily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dangerous? Could helping you undress possibly be dangerous? Or a touch? Is that dangerous?”

She reached out, running the tip of her finger from his left hip down to his thigh, then trailed a path across to the other leg and came back up. Taunting. Cajoling. Making him insane.

“Kissing? Is that dangerous, too?” she asked, staring up at him, this time with wicked anticipation.

He swayed on his feet, having to close his eyes as she leaned closer, pressing a hot, wet kiss to his hip, intentionally allowing her long blonde hair to flow over his shaft again.

“Surely not dangerous, Sam,” she whispered as she continued to kiss him, continued to brush her cheek against his over-sensitized flesh until he thought he’d explode. “Maybe,” she whispered just before she moved her mouth over him, “just delicious.”

He was able to withstand no more than a minute of her most intimate kiss before he had to pull away and yank her up from the bench to stand in front of him “Enough,” he muttered raggedly. He didn’t want her getting him so close to the edge that he wouldn’t be able to slow down and return the oral favor. Because he did so enjoy pleasuring her.

He kissed her hard, their tongues thrusting deep, then dropped to his knees. There was no gentle exploration, no slow buildup, he had to taste her now, had to make her as crazy as she’d made him. So without warning he moved his mouth to the luscious tuft of blond curls between her legs and slid his tongue into them, finding her clit and licking it hard.

Eve cried out, twining her hands in his hair, as if she were helpless and needed something to hold onto to stay balanced. That was just fine. He could do that for her, be her balance, her security.

“Oh, God, Sam,” she groaned, her legs starting to shake. Her pants increased, her fingers tightened in his hair and a low, helpless scream began to emerge from her mouth as her climax washed over her.

He’d made her come in less than thirty seconds. Which was a-okay with him.

As she groaned out her orgasm, Sam kissed his way up her hip, gently turning her around and sliding up onto the seat of the bench. Donning a condom, he pulled her down on top of him in one easy move, burying himself to the hilt in her body. She took all of him, dropping her head back, a look of pure completion on her face as she purred in delight.

He remained still, trying to make sure this part of their lovemaking didn’t end thirty seconds after it had begun. Because she felt so good, so tight and wonderful, he could all too easily let himself go too fast, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy every last second of it.

When he felt he was back in control of his senses, Sam began to move, to set the tempo.

She stopped him. “I think I’m in the position of authority here.” Straddling him, she used her feet to lift herself up, then slowly drop down over him again. She seemed to understand what he wanted because her every move was slow, drawn-out. She was savoring this as much as he, seeming intent on the journey, not racing toward the destination.

Sam leaned further back, supporting his weight on his elbow, free to kiss those lush breasts swaying above his face, to suckle one sensitive, tight nipple until she cooed. Oh, yes, he was perfectly willing to let her take control, knowing her pleasure meant his own. He loved the look of satisfaction on her face as she closed her eyes and dropped her head back to savor the sensations.

When he was close to the edge, to the precipice, Sam sat up and pulled her legs around his waist. She seemed weak, spent, and willingly gave him control, melting against him as he finished what she’d started. He slid his hands into her hair, cupping her head and pulling her mouth to his for a long, deep kiss. Little moans rose from her throat and Sam took them, fed on them, echoed them.

And when she at last screamed her fulfillment Sam silently whispered his love for her against Eve’s parted lips.

“I’m hungry.”

Sam glanced over the top of Eve’s head toward the bedside table. “No wonder. It’s after eight.”

They had moved to the bedroom shortly after their “exercise” session, both with shaky legs and out of breath. They’d collapsed together on Sam’s bed. Curled in one another’s arms, they’d spent a half hour kissing, stroking, languorously enjoying the last moments of daylight slanting through the windows in his room.

“I suppose we should go out and clean up the spaghetti sauce,” she said ruefully. “Too bad Quigley’s not as much of a dog as he pretends to be, or he’d have had it all lapped up by now.”

“Not a chance. If it’s not served in his ceramic dish, he won’t touch it.”

Eve gave an unladylike snort. “You’re such a wimp. That cat’s got you completely trained.”

He rolled over, tickling her at the waist until she giggled. “Wimp? You’re calling me a wimp? Me the guy who made you scream loud enough to wake the dead not forty-five minutes ago?”

Eve squirmed, trying to get away from his fingers. “Mr. Big-Shot Author, can’t even get your kitty to eat dry cat food!”

He pushed her back into the pillows, holding her shoulders tight. “I’ll make you pay for doubting my manhood,” he growled, dropping his face to nip at her neck. She gasped when he moved his mouth lower, nibbling, kissing her skin until he hovered over her breast. “Say uncle.”

“Never,” she challenged.

He dropped his head, sucking her nipple into his mouth, drawing a moan from her until she writhed beneath him.

“All right, all right, I take it back,” she said with a gasp.

Sam didn’t stop tasting her. He worked his way up her neck, nibbling on her ear. “Huh, what do you know? I guess I really am hungry, too.”

It was close to nine o’clock by the time they finally got out of bed and dressed. Eve cringed when they walked through the apartment and flipped on the kitchen light. They spent another half hour cleaning up. Eve pitched the floor mat into a garbage bag, knowing there was no way the stain was ever coming out, promising to buy him another one.

“Well, at least it doesn’t look like a murder scene anymore,” Eve said once they were done. She wrinkled her nose, noting the thick odor of garlic. “But the smell is pretty bad.”

“I was going to vote for carry-out, but I think maybe we ought to get out of here for a couple of hours,” Sam replied. “It’s pretty late, though, to stroll into a restaurant.

Eve thought for a moment, then reached for the phone. “Just a sec. An old college friend of mine works as a chef at her family’s hotel, the Kerrigan Towers. Let me see if she’s there.”

Dialing the number to the hotel, Eve waited while she was put through to Ruthie. When her friend answered, she sounded out of breath, but since that was how she usually sounded anyway, Eve didn’t worry. “Kitchen still open, Ruthie?”

“Eve! I haven’t heard from you in days. You didn’t show up Tuesday night and Diana wouldn’t tell me a thing. Where are you? What is going on? What happened with that nasty writer?”

“Whoa,” Eve said, rolling her eyes as she tried to get a word in edgewise. “Everything’s fine. I was calling to see if you can get a table for me. I’m planning to come in with a
friend
.”

“Him?” Ruthie squeaked.

Eve nearly pulled the phone away from her ear at her friend’s gasp. “Yep.”

Ruthie immediately began speaking in a dramatic whisper, as if Sam could hear through the phone lines. “You’re bringing him here? Tonight? For oysters and chocolate?”

Eve giggled. “No, I definitely don’t think we will need those menu selections.”

She heard Ruthie groan. “You didn’t. Oh, Eve, don’t tell me you slept with him! That man has
not
sucked you in too.”

Eve glanced at Sam, who stood at the stove, warming up some leftover meat for the cat. Quigley curled around Sam’s feet, purring away, while casting malevolent glares at Eve. Eve nearly stuck her tongue out at the animal.

“Let’s just say we’ve made friends. We’ll be there in about a half hour, Ruthie,” Eve said, not giving her friend a chance to offer any more lectures.

Hanging up the phone, she watched Sam scratch Quigley beneath the chin. “So what’s with this cat, Sam?”

 He grinned up at her. “Jealous?”

“Of that mangy hunka Doberman bait?”

“Hey, hey, you’ll insult him! Quigley was the truest friend I had for a long time. I found him right outside this building the day I moved in. Hungry, pitiful, alone. Kinda like me. What can I say? We bonded.”

Eve smiled as he continued stroking the animal, who purred at the attention. “That was when you left your father’s house?”

“The very day,” Sam said as he stood and walked out of the kitchen with Eve. “Someone had obviously dumped Quig, too. He was scruffy, but he’d been fixed. He was no stray. Just suddenly found himself without a permanent residence. Like me.”

And Sam had rescued the creature along with himself. As if there wasn’t already enough to like about this man, the fact that he was kind to animals was just an extra layer of sprinkles over the icing on the cake.

They reached the hotel in about twenty minutes, which was a good thing since, by now, Eve was truly famished. The Kerrigan Towers Hotel was an elegant reminder of the early part of the century, when railroad magnates and industrialists called Philadelphia home. In its heyday, the hotel had been a showplace, a sparkling jewel in the crown of the vibrant city. But as the years passed, the grand old place began to wear around the edges, its brick façade fading, the cobbles in the front drive becoming cracked and broken.

Ruthie’s family had bought the place from its previous owner, who’d lost his shirt during the crash of ’29. Her grandfather had run the Kerrigan Towers for several decades, profitably and effectively. Ruthie’s uncle, however, who’d taken over in the early eighties, lacked his father’s business acumen, though not his sincere dedication to the family. Under his loving but misguided management, the hotel had fallen on hard times, and was now badly in need of a facelift.

Eve knew Ruthie loved the old place the way some people loved their grandparents or siblings. Since Eve had met her, Ruthie had spoken of nothing else but becoming a world class chef so that she could help bring the Kerrigan back to its former glory.

When they arrived, Eve and Sam were shown to a table immediately. It was nearly ten o’clock, but the restaurant was still crowded, as Ruthie’s success was finally drawing in patrons and raving critics alike.

“Your friend a good cook?” Sam asked as they sat down and perused the menus.

“Ruthie can make canned beef stew taste like a feast,” Eve said with a heartfelt nod.

“Great, I’m famished.”

Glancing up, Eve was not a bit surprised to see Ruthie hurrying toward them from the kitchen, her red curls falling in disarray from the bun on top of her head. A smudge of flour dusted the front of her pink apron. Several people recognized Ruthie, stopping her to comment on their meals. Eve loved watching Ruthie handle her gastronomic fans. She looked completely flustered, her hands fluttering until she clasped them together, behind her back, as Diana had taught her to do during Speech 101. Her sweet, round face wore a look of complete surprise as if she couldn’t believe people had actually driven two hours from the outlying boroughs just to sample her cooking.

“She made it, too,” Eve murmured to herself.

Sam obviously heard. “That’s your friend?”

Eve nodded. “Ruthie. The dreamer.”

“She’s one of your quartet?”

Eve chuckled. “Oh, yes. Ruthie and Diana were roommates when I met them, so much like Oscar Madison and Felix Unger it wasn’t even funny. With one exception—neither one of them was very neat.”

“I resent that remark,” Ruthie said as she came to stand next to the table, thrusting her fists on her hips. She bent down to give Eve a quick kiss hello on the cheek, then straightened and stared suspiciously at Sam.

Eve quickly made introductions. “Ruthie, this is Sam Kenneman. Sam, the irrepressible Ruthie Sinclair.”

“Sam Kenneman. Yes, I think I’ve heard of you,” Ruthie said, her normally sweet voice hard.

Sam sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

Eve gave Ruthie a quick kick under the table, silently reminding her to be good. Ruthie bit her cheek to hold back a yelp of surprise. The redhead glared at her before turning her attention back to Sam. “Of course. You work with Diana at that men’s magazine.” Her words were syrupy sweet, any sign of animosity gone under Eve’s warning glare.