Heaven and Hell (20 page)

Then we were gone.

The restaurant was a ten minute walk from
our hotel. We’d been walking two when the noise came from my throat
because I couldn’t continue choking back my laughter.

“I know, fuck,” Sam muttered, totally with
me.

“She hugged you,” I forced out, all three
words sounding strangled.

“I know,” Sam repeated then,
“
Fuck.
”

I couldn’t hold it back anymore, I
giggled.

Sam’s arm around my shoulders gave me a
squeeze, I tipped my head to look at his profile and saw him
smiling.

Then I faced forward again, controlled my
hilarity and asked, “Now does
that
happen all the time?”

“People gettin’ that in my space?” Sam asked
back.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck no,” he answered then finished on a
mutter, “Thank Christ.”

I giggled again.

Then I sobered as something hit me, it was
unpleasant, scary even… and weird.

“Uh… Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?”

That got me another arm squeeze and an,
“Anything, baby.”

I pulled in a breath.

Then I reminded him, “I borderline internet
stalked you.”

His voice was filled with humor when he
replied, “Kia, honey, the shit you spouted last night, nothin’
‘borderline’ about it.”

Uh-oh.

“Well then –” I started but stopped when Sam
stopped our progress, turned me to facing him then pulled me
loosely in both arms.

“Different,” he whispered when my eyes
caught his.

“How?”

“You remember how we met?”

Uh…
yeah.
I’d never forget. Never,
ever, ever.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t talk to you would you have talked
to me?”

Ah. I saw his point.

“No,” I said quietly.

“Right, no. You wouldn’t have talked to me.
Definitely not asked me for a picture and absolutely you wouldn’t
have pressed up against me.”

This was true.

“Though,” he grinned down at me, “even if
you had, I wouldn’t have minded
you
doin’ it.”

“Sam,” I whispered.

“Seriously,” he said as he kept
grinning.

I rolled my eyes.

Sam kept speaking after his grin faded and
his face got serious.

“So. Different,” he whispered. “You were
respecting my privacy.”

“Actually, I was terrified of you.”

He grinned again.

“Either way works for me.”

I rolled my eyes again.

Then I rolled them back and asked, “So it
doesn’t creep you out that one of my best friends has a cardboard
cutout of you?”

“Fuck no,” he answered immediately. “I get a
cut of that shit. She probably paid for a six pack of beer.”

At his words, I burst out laughing.

When I quit laughing, Sam was smiling down
at me.

Then he asked, “You got a room at home
wallpapered with my pictures?”

“Uh… no,” I answered.

“You ever send me sick ass letters
describing the house we’d live in, the pets we’d have, the names of
all our children, goin’ into detail about how we’d make those
kids?”

Ick!

“Definitely no,” I told him.

“A shrine?”

I started giggling but shook my head and
repeated, “No.”

He let me go with one arm and turned us on
our way again, muttering, “Then we’re good.”

I walked beside him, my arm around his waist
and asked, “Have you received letters like that?”

“Yeah.”

Ohmigod.

My head jerked to look up at him.
“Really?”

“Yeah, pre-Army, had a woman, she sent me at
least a hundred of them.”

Okay, now
that
was creepy. I was now
seeing there were degrees.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” I told
him.

“I didn’t either. I just didn’t reply. It
died when I quit playin’ ball and never came back. She probably
found some other guy who plays ball to fixate on.”

“Doesn’t that creep you out?”

“Absolutely.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“I don’t. Not anymore. Got an agency who
reads that shit, sends me what I need to see, files the rest.”

Hmm. Interesting.

I got another arm squeeze before Sam said
softly, “You should know, Tilda gets a wild hair, pictures of you
and me at a restaurant in Lake Como, wrapped up together, sittin’
close…” he trailed off and I stopped dead.

This was because I knew what he meant.

She could sell them to someone or even just
put them on a social network site and they’d spread like
wildfire.

Oh.

My.

God.

He turned me into his arms again as I tilted
my head back to look at him.

“Ohmigod,” I whispered when my eyes found
his.

“That shit happens to me all the time,
baby.”

I knew that. I’d seen him with a variety of
babes. But none of them was me even though I wished they were
me.

And now they could be!

Oh.

My.

God!

He studied me as I freaked out.

Then I asked him, “Doesn’t that freak you
out?”

“No.”

“But… we barely know each other!” I cried,
yes,
cried
and
loud.

He pulled me closer, his arms getting tight
and his face dipping close to mine.

Then he asked, “This feel good?”

“What?”

“Us.”

I sucked in breath at his question.

Sam kept speaking and when he did he yet
again rocked my world.

“It does to me. That shit, it’s my life. I
can’t care. I did, I’d lose it. So I see it or live it, then I let
it go. Now, I’m worried about you ‘cause this feels good. If it
feels this good now, that means it could get better. What happens
tonight is close to what happened this morning, it’s
definitely
gonna get better. But right now, it feels good
enough I give a shit about it stayin’ this good, enough to work at
it, enough to
make
it better. And I don’t need to find a
woman I finally feel good with and have her not able to handle the
shit that comes with me.”

I was still holding my breath and staring at
him.

“Kia.”

I kept holding my breath and staring at
him.

His face got even closer and his arms gave
me a squeeze.

“Kia, baby, breathe.”

I let out my breath.

What I didn’t do was speak. Sam waited but
my brain was too full with the idea of “us”, I couldn’t get it
together to answer.

“Baby, I need to know if you can handle the
shit that comes with me,” he prompted gently.

That was when I blurted, “I liked Sampson
Cooper not because he was hot and rich and cool. I liked Sampson
Cooper because my husband was a dick who treated me like shit and I
knew Sampson Cooper was a good man, a decent man, a loyal man and I
preferred to spend my time with that man not with my husband.”

It was Sam’s turn not to speak.

I kept talking.

“But I like Sam Cooper better.”

Sam closed his eyes.

And it was my turn to give him a squeeze and
when I did, he opened his eyes and I whispered, “So, yeah.
Definitely yeah. I can handle the shit that comes with you just as
long as it comes with you.”

I watched his eyes heat right before his
hand slid up my back, into my hair, cupping the back of my head,
tilting it and his mouth slammed down on mine.

Then he kissed me, not like he’d been doing
all day, sweet lip touches that settled in my soul.

No.

Like he did that morning.

A hot, wet, deep kiss with lots of brilliant
tongue action that made my knees get weak.

I held on and kissed him back.

It… was…
brilliant.

Then he tore his mouth from mine, growled,
“Hotel,” and he started us walking again.

This time faster.

A lot faster.

Oh.

Man
.

Bury Him

Sam led us directly to my room, no
discussion over “yours” or “mine”.

Decisive.

He was not wasting any time.

But by the time we got there, I was not so
sure about “us” anymore.

In fact, I’d convinced myself this was all a
huge mistake.

And I’d convinced myself of this because I’d
had one lover.

Cooter.

And I found out that morning, just with the
little I did with Sam, that Cooter wasn’t very good at what he did
and even with experience with me and whoever else he slept with
along the way, he didn’t get any better. And this was true even
before he started hitting me which made me want nothing to do with
my husband touching me.

The sorry fact was, I never really enjoyed
sex with Cooter. I tried but never got there. We had our moments,
sure. But they were few and they caused no fireworks. Sparklers,
maybe, but those sputtered out and died.

There was a pocket of time I tried to be all
I could be for Cooter in bed in hopes that would make him happy
enough so he would be less inclined to get pissed and take it out
on me.

This did not work and I quit trying.

But it stood to reason that Cooter went to
Vanessa and any of the other women he might or might not have
cheated on me with those times he was late home because it was
actually me who wasn’t good at it. I was not his first but he was
my first and only and he didn’t exactly take his time to teach me
nor did he make our bed a safe place to learn.

And it was clear with the first kiss Sam and
I had shared that I didn’t know what I was doing. Just with
kissing. So the rest of it might be even worse.

And that couldn’t happen.

It couldn’t.

After the last twenty-four hours with Sam,
it couldn’t end like that.

The horrible kiss was humiliating enough, if
I couldn’t satisfy Sam in bed that would be mortifying.

And by the time we got to my door, I’d
convinced myself that was what was going to happen. That hot kiss
with Sam this morning and the one five minutes ago were flukes.

And I couldn’t tell him this. I couldn’t
explain any of this.

“Baby, your key?” Sam prompted as I stood
staring at the door, trying to figure out how to get out of having
sex with Sam and how to talk him into being my hot guy friend that
I made out with twice instead.

My head jerked up to look at him then it
jerked down and I pulled my purse off my shoulder, dug inside and
came out with my key.

Whether it was because Sam saw my hands
shaking (and they were) or he was just being Sam, he slid it gently
from my fingers, unlocked the door, pushed it open and held it for
me to precede him.

I didn’t want to but I did.

Sam followed me and the door closed behind
him.

I stopped breathing and my stomach
clutched.

Sam hit the light switch and several lights
came on around the room.

That jolted me to action.

“Sam –” I started but he was right there,
his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, pulling me in and
tilting my head back with his thumb at my jaw.

His face was so close, it was all I could
see when he whispered, “Breathe, baby, just breathe. Stay with me,
two minutes, stay with me. Then I promise to make it okay.”

Two minutes?

He promised to make it okay?

“Promise me you’re gonna stay with me,” he
ordered.

I bit my lip.

Two minutes.

I could do that. Right?

I nodded.

He let me go instantly and moved around the
room, turning off all the lights but one by the bed.

Then he came to me and guided me
to
the bed.

Oh no.

“Sam –” I began again.

“Baby, you promised.”

I did.

I shut up.

He turned me and gently pressed me to seat
me at the side of the bed. Then he bent, hooked a hand behind my
knee, lifted my leg and slipped off my sandal. Repeat with the
other one. Then he sat down beside me.

I sucked in breath.

“One more minute, Kia,” he said gently.

I turned my head to him and nodded
again.

He pulled off his boots and socks.

Then he turned to me and in a smooth, swift
movement, he wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me up the
bed so we were lying perpendicular across the middle of it, both
down to our sides, facing each other.

Okay, no.

No.

I didn’t know how much time was left on
Sam’s two minutes but I had to break my promise.

And that was why I whispered, “I don’t think
I can –”

His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb out to
press lightly on my lips and he whispered back, “You don’t have to
Kia. I can.”

I shook my head and, even with his thumb
still at my lips, I told him, “I’m not… I don’t think I’m good at
this.”

“Trust me.”

Oh God.

No way!

I could
not
fuck this up. It would
ruin everything and the everything we already had was
everything.

I could live without having more. At that
point, I was sure of it.

“Sam –”

His hand went from my jaw to trail down my
shoulder, my arm, my wrist and down to my hand. He pulled it to
him, dipping it under his shirt then sliding it up and my fingers
hit his hot, sleek skin.

The grip my panicked thoughts had on my mind
instantly released as it registered the feel of his skin. The
muscle under it was hard, solid, but the skin was so warm it was
hot and so soft it was silky.

It felt nice. Very nice.

Sam’s mouth touched mine gently as his hand
moved mine up the skin of his side, taking his shirt with it and
the added lip touch was sweet.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” Sam whispered
against my lips.

“Okay,” I whispered back.

My hand moved of its own accord to
experience more, explore the definition of the muscles of his back,
take in more of his hot silk and Sam’s hand came to my jaw, gliding
back and up into my hair as his head moved, his lips sliding across
my cheek to my ear.