Not Your Hero (7 page)

“Bye, Court.” He takes two steps away from me before I stop him.

“Wait.” He stops and turns around. I bite my lip before continuing. “Stay. Eat some chicken.”
Idiot.

“You sure you have enough?” Those sexy lips of his turn up in a grin.

“Ha ha. Yes. I have plenty.”

“All right. Thanks.” He walks right up to me and cups my face with one hand. “You better now?”

I lean into him and reply, “Mmm hmm.”

“Good.” His fingers trail down my cheek and across my jawline before reaching my neck. He applies a little more pressure when he grazes over my collarbone, and I have to grip his other arm, which is now squeezing my hip, to keep from falling. The tips of his fingers slide between my breasts and down the front of my shirt.

“Sam.” I actually moan from him touching me outside of my shirt.

“Yeah.” His voice is huskier than normal, and his eyelids heavy, as the piercing blue of his eyes assess me.

Those magical fingertips play with the waistband of my shorts, and then slide up under my shirt. He runs his thumb along the underside of my bra, and my knees become even weaker. His lips suck on my neck, and he massages my heavy breasts one at a time.

I squeeze my thighs together and tilt my head back, granting him better access. His knee nudges my legs open, and I cry out when my throbbing center collides with his denim-covered thigh.

“Fuck.” He lifts his head from my neck and grips my hair before slamming his mouth to mine and pressing me against the counter. The hard length of him is rubbing against my stomach, and I unabashedly grind myself onto him.

“God, Sam,” I mumble around his tongue, that’s reaching every inch of my mouth, unhurried, but hard. So damn hot.

“I know.” He releases my hair and uses that hand to pinch my nipple through my shirt.

I press harder on him, and he nips at my lower lip, tugging, teasing. My nails dig into his arms, and his groin presses almost painfully into me. I feel like we’re in high school, and we’re both about to come in our pants.

“My hands are clean! I washed them extra long!”

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

He practically pushes me away and turns his back to Ben as he runs into the room. I swear the kid never walks.

“Good. Nice and clean. Sit down.” With a hand to my rapidly beating heart, I try to appear calm. I can’t believe I just let that happen.

Ben jumps in his seat and spills half of the corn trying to get it on his plate, but I don’t have it in me to care right now. I’m trying to catch my breath, and with shaky hands, cut the chicken.

Sam’s stubble tickles my ear, and his winded voice shoots straight between my legs. “What the fuck was that? I almost came in my pants.” My suspicion was correct then. “Damn, Courtney.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“You all right?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Liar. I’m not fine. I’m so horny right now. So damn turned on by him. And I know what he can do, too. I think about him fucking me against the wall all the time. I want him to do it again. But I can’t be just another whore to him. He had a girl over last night, and I know that’s all it would ever be between us. He’s made that perfectly clear. “Sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you sorry? Feel this.” He presses against me, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the sensation of his still hard length against my backside. “This is what you do to me. All the damn time. I want inside you again so bad. Christ.” He pushes away and I turn to face him, frustration clearly written on his face. He scrubs his hands down his cheeks, and looks over his shoulder at Ben, who is attempting to stack corn kernels. “This isn’t over.” Then he presses a kiss to my forehead, takes a few deep breaths, and sits down to eat.

A dinner that should be awkward and filled with sexual tension is anything but. Ben asks Sam nonstop questions about fixing stuff, and I hold in my laughter at Sam’s obvious frustration over the rapid fire from a five-year-old. He reaches under the table and squeezes my thigh, asking me to save him. It’s nice. It feels so natural for him to be here.

“Why don’t you go up to your room and play with the new cars you got the other day?”

“Can you play, too?”

“I’ll come up after I clean the dishes. Then Mona is coming to get you for a sleepover.”

“Okay.” Ben pushes away from the table and heads upstairs. The novelty of Sam must have worn off because he doesn’t even say goodbye to him.

“Why is he sleeping at Mona’s?”

“I’ve gotta work tonight.”

I stand and grab some of the dirty dishes. He puts the rest of them in the sink while I scoop leftovers in a container.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and quietly says, “Come over after.”

I want to. I shouldn’t, though. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Listen,” I shut the fridge and lean on it. “You. I.” I blow out a breath and try to compose my thoughts. “I want more. You can’t give that to me. And I’m sorry I let my hormones get the best of me, but-”

“You’re right. I can’t. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. We’re good together.”

“I won’t
just
sleep with you. I’m not like that.”

“I know you’re not.” He stands in front of me and lifts my chin. “One more time.”

“Sam. Stop.”

“Damn, Courtney. Want me to beg? ‘Cause I will.” He inches himself closer so I’m between him and the fridge.

My eyes zero in on the calendar and I’m suddenly reminded of Kevin and our next date. A super nice, albeit kind of dorky man who I’m supposed to be dating. Crap. I forgot all about him. This is what Sam does to me. He makes me forget about everything else around me.

“I can’t be just a fuck buddy. I wish I could, but I need more than that.”

He rests his forehead on mine for a moment before kissing my cheek. “And I wish I didn’t respect you so much for that. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

I nod and plaster a fake smile on my face as he walks away. When the click of the front door sounds, I allow myself a moment of weakness, thinking about what I’m letting walk away, before I finish loading the dishwasher and walking upstairs to play cars with Ben.

The rest of the week is typical except for when Sam was over installing the new water heater. We avoided eye contact, and he played a few games with Ben before going home for the night. Every time I got a glimpse of him in his ratty jeans and tight t-shirt, I had to talk myself down from jumping on him. But I made the right decision. I think.

It’s now Friday, and I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Kevin’s car on the way home from our second date. My parents picked Ben up from school today and are taking him for the weekend. A rarity, but I’m not going to keep him from seeing his grandparents if they ask. It’s not his fault that we don’t get along. Since I have to work the next two nights, Kevin and I went to a matinee and early dinner. This was worse than the last date. Even if I didn’t have the whole Sam situation looming over me, there’s no way I’d ever date Kevin again. It’s just not there. No spark, no mutual interests, no chemistry.

We pull up to my house and I cross my arms to avoid holding his hand again. I’m playing the scenario in my head, running the words through it over and over again, when I finally get the nerve to tell him at my front door.

“I had a good time, Kevin, but I don’t think this is going to work.”

He takes a step back and straightens his shoulders. “What? Why?”

“You’re a really nice guy, but I just don’t have the time to date right now. I work two jobs, and with Ben . . . I’m sorry.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, and when he looks back at me, anger is laced in his features and his words. “That’s bullshit. If you really like someone, you make the time. So what’s your real reason?”

I’m taken aback by his attitude, and stutter, “I, um. It’s just that I don’t think it’ll work out.”

“Because of ME!” he yells.

“Well, no. I mean yes. Listen.” I take a step away from him, becoming scared. “You’re a really nice guy, but . . .”

“But what?” He steps closer and panic begins to form. His hands are in fists, and spit is flying out of his mouth.

“Everything okay over here?” another male voice asks. But this one calms me, it makes me feel safe.

Sam. Thank God. I peek around Kevin and see him walking up the steps wiping his hands on a rag.

“Yeah. We’re fine,” Kevin answers, not turning to look at Sam but continuing to stare at me.

“Court?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. Kevin was just leaving.”

“No, I wasn’t. We’re still talking.”

“Kevin. I’m sorry. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

He takes a step closer, and I gasp. “You’re a little cock tease.”

Sam appears in front of me, facing Kevin, and I grip the waistband of his jeans to steady myself.

“Go.”

“Fuck you, man,” Kevin spits at Sam, sounding even more angry and riled up.

“Not gonna tell you again. Go.” Sam’s voice is controlled, and it comforts me. He comforts me.

“Who the fuck are you? You fuckin’ her or something?”

Sam’s arm snakes behind, and he pries my fingers off his jeans, giving my hand a squeeze before stepping away and getting in Kevin’s face. “Talk about her like that again and I’ll break your fucking jaw.” He gives Kevin a little shove.

“Whatever, asshole.” He turns and storms away, making sure to squeal his tires as he speeds off.

I’m shocked at his behavior. I’ve only been out on two dates and had a few conversations with him on the phone, but he never showed any signs that he would act like that.

“Hey. You all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Babe, he was an ass.”

“I know, but still.” I sit on the porch swing and kick off my shoes. “I didn’t expect that kind of reaction from him.”

Sam sits next to me and pulls me to his side, gently rubbing my arm. “Can’t blame the guy for being pissed that you turned him down. It’s a hard pill to swallow.”

“Shut up.” I pinch his side and laugh. “Thanks for getting him out of here.”

“No problem.”

We swing for a few minutes in silence, and I’m enjoying being in his arms. It makes me think that there’s a chance. No. I know there is. He could be so much more, but he closes himself off. He won’t allow himself to get close to someone.

“Why can’t you give me more?”

He freezes.

“I just can’t.” His voice pained, and a hint of anger on his face.

“Why?”

He stands and paces on the old creaky wood.

“I know you’re not as closed off as you pretend. I see you with Ben.”

“You don’t know shit, Courtney,” he snaps and glares at me.

I stand on shaky legs, pissed off that I’ve had two men yell at me tonight.

“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He takes a step closer then stops and tucks his hands in his jeans pockets.

“Then talk to me.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

I won’t push him. And he’s right. I really don’t know him, but I do know there’s something between us. I want more than anything for him to give in, but I refuse to be an afterthought. I want it all.

“Okay. Well, thanks again.”

I manage to walk into my house and shut the door before my legs give out. That’s what he does. He makes me weak.

8

Sam

I’VE NEVER QUESTIONED MYSELF like I am right now. And I’ve never run so hot and cold. Spending the day with Courtney and Ben last weekend was a welcome relief to my mundane existence. It was so normal, and it reminded me how much I used to want that. When we were all over each other in the kitchen, I felt more than just the need to get into her pants; I felt desire to my core. I wish she wasn’t so set in her ways and I could have her again. But in order to do that, I’d have to give her more . . . and I just can’t.

And that jackass she was on a date with. What a piece of shit. He obviously was butt hurt from her turning him down. But no way was I gonna let him stand there and yell at her like that.

I go back to my garage and clean up the mess I made then grab a beer and put on the news channel. A door slams and I look out my window to see Courtney walking to her car. It’s dark out now, but the light from the porch shows off her bare legs and high heels. She must be going to work. That pisses me off. The thought of other guys seeing her naked chest, her flirting with them—even if it’s only to get more money from tips—it still makes me want to rip each one of their eyes out. And I’m not a violent person, normally.

Slamming my beer, I go to the kitchen to grab another one. I hop in the shower real quick then go back to the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels until I drift off to sleep.

Saturday comes and goes, and after I finish cutting the grass and doing a little work in the garage, I order a pizza. Lisa sent me a text asking to meet her at the bar, so I’m on my way there now.

She’s saved a seat for me, and I wave at Jim as I sit down. It’s a typical Saturday crowd, loud drunk people yelling over the music. The dim lights and buzzing neon signs giving the bar an old school feel.

“Hey,” she says, swaying in her seat.

“Hi.” I grab my beer from Jim and slide some cash to him.

“Wanna dance?”

I laugh. “No. I don’t dance. You go ahead.”

“Come on, Sam.” Her words are slurred, and her eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“What’s wrong with you? How long have you been drinking?” She’s not usually a sloppy drunk like this.

She ignores my question and stands, falling into me as she laughs. “Oops.”

I help her steady herself, and she goes to the middle of the bar, where there’s a makeshift dance floor. Only a few other people are out there right now, but they’re all caught up in themselves and don’t notice the new dancer. Her hips move slow and seductive, and she runs her hands all over her body—impressive for being wasted. Normally, this would turn me on, but I can’t even force myself to watch her. I glance around the bar, and eventually end up back at Lisa. A guy walks up to her and wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing her ass into his dick. She turns and wraps her arms around his neck then basically fucks him through their clothes.