The Break-Up Psychic (19 page)

Chewing the mints as quietly as possible, I wet a fingertip on my now fresher tongue and rub beneath each eye, trying to remove any mascara smudges. I hear Sam inhale deeply and turn to see if I’ve woken him. It’s so unfair men look the same the morning after a night of wild sex as they did the night before. The stubble on his face is a little thicker than it was last night, but otherwise he looks like the same sex-pot that talked me out of my bra in the backseat of an old hot-rod.

I tuck his soft blue sheets around my naked body and turn toward him. Sam’s shoulders are beautiful in their masculinity. They’re broad and well developed, his chest and abs equally so. I brush the pads of my fingertips over his sandy-colored chest hair, which is just the right amount of thickness to be sexy. He’s between Gerard Butler and Channing Tatum in the body hair department, which is the perfect balance of brute manliness in my opinion.

I cuddle a little closer to him, seeking out the heat of his body. When we stumbled into his place last night, all thoughts of finding out what had happened between Sam and his ex were quickly discarded. But in the subtle light of morning, I can’t keep my eyes from wandering around his bedroom, looking for clues of his broken heart. The last time I was there, he never really got around to giving me a tour of the place. He was too focused on touring my naked body to show me where he keeps the silverware.

The large cedar bed dominates the room. It’s sturdy under pressure, something I can happily attest to. Matching lamps rest on the night stands on either side of the bed. The nightstand on Sam’s side is taken up by a watch, a glass of water, and a well-worn book. The table on my side is empty save for the lamp. The bedroom’s large window has white linen curtains drawn across it, and swirly finals are mounted to either side to draw the curtains back and allow the light in. A pretty red and blue vase sits squarely in the middle of a chest of drawers and, although it’s not currently holding any flowers, it’s clear by its placement that flowers were meant to adorn the area.

It hits me like a ton of bricks. This room, probably this entire house, was decorated by a woman. I feel a little cheated by this revelation and think of his ex-fiancé and where she may’ve left the Dear John letter that broke Sam’s heart. The mantel in the living room seems a likely place, but my psychic senses are telling me there’s more than meets the eye to that vase on the dresser.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

His voice catches me off-guard, and I jump at the sound. As I look down at him, he brings a hand up to lightly touch my chin and jaw with his fingers. He repositions his head against the pillow, his fingers moving to play with my hair as he waits for me to respond.

I exhale nervously and look down, smiling shyly. “You caught me. I was just admiring your room, actually. I haven’t really had an opportunity to look around your place yet since we’ve been mostly focused on the bed.”

Sam smiles at me and I swear it’s as though I’m on a movie set, he looks so good. “You’re welcome to become acquainted with all the rooms in the house, if you’re so interested,” he says, moving his hand from my hair to lightly touch my neck. His hand moves slowly down until the tips of his fingers rest gently against the swell of my cleavage.

“I might just take you up on that,” I say, placing a light kiss on his lips. Thank the genius that developed breath mints.

I pull away before Sam can take the kiss any further. I can’t help it. I want to know more about his past and I can’t pass up on the opportunity to take advantage of his current prone position. “So, when did you buy this place?”

“About three years ago.”

I wait for him to add more detail, but he seems rather content to let me dig it out of him. “How many bedrooms?”

“Why? You want to help me christen them?” He smiles, pulling the sheet covering me down a little further and making my belly jump with excitement.

“Just trying to get a feel for the place is all. Did you find it yourself or have some help?”

“I suppose I had some help.”

His smile is bemused, and it’s making me want to spank him. “Are you going to tell me who helped you, or are you enjoying yourself too much?”

Sam’s smile widens and I trace the outline of his dimple before it hides away again.

“My sister’s a realtor. When this place came up for sale, she thought it’d be perfect for me.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised at his answer. “Does all of your family live nearby?”

“We’re a bit scattered now. I’ve got two sisters who live in Dallas, a third here, and my parents are about ten minutes away.”

“So you’re close to your family?”

“Well, being the baby brother, they do dote on me a bit,” he says, grinning as he brings one arm behind his head to prop himself up. “What about you? Are you close to your folks?”

I pause, uncomfortable with the prospect of telling him about my relationship with my father. It’s complicated to say the least, and I certainly don’t want to be accused of having ‘daddy-issues.’ Every girl knows that’s just guy-code for,
‘This bitch is crazy.’
“My mom and I are pretty close. She’s actually getting married soon, to her dentist of all things.”

“Aren’t you happy for her?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I want her to be happy, of course, but I just…”

Sam brings his hand up to play with my hair, waiting for me to continue. I swallow and shake my head, offering him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I guess I’m still a little shocked that she’s getting married again. The wedding’s just around the corner and I haven’t even met my future step-dad yet. Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“Not particularly. My parents swear by love at first sight. I guess when you know, you know.”

His words are so sincere. It makes me wonder how he felt when he met his ex. Was it love at first sight for them too and if so, has he been able to move on?

Sam’s gaze moves over my face and I know he can read something in my eyes because he says, “I forgot, you don’t go in for all that fairytale love nonsense.”

“Have you ever been in love?” I blurt out, unable to keep the words unspoken.

Sam lowers his eyes for a brief moment before turning his head slightly to look more directly at me. “I have,” he sighs.

I study his face. Although serious, he doesn’t appear uneasy or sad by the confession. I wait for him to tell me more but once again he remains quiet, waiting for me to ask the questions. “What happened?”

Sam moves the hand from beneath his head and sinks back into the pillow. He gently brushes through my messy bed-hair as he responds. “I found out she wasn’t the right one, for me,” he says carefully.

His words hang in the air, because I don’t know how to answer him. He clearly doesn’t want to discuss his past any more than I want to relive mine, so why can’t I just let it go?

“Is there anything else you want to know, Ellie?”

I open my mouth, ready to ask if he’s still in love with his ex, if he’s just using me like he allegedly used Amber’s friend, but I stop myself. Sam’s been nothing but honest and patient with me. He doesn’t owe me his life’s story. The past is the past and if I keep comparing him with those that have let me down, I could be left with nothing.

“No,” I say, satisfied for now.

I lean over Sam, my hair falling like a curtain around our faces. His arms go around me and he lightly presses against my lower back. I brush my lips against his, barely making contact as I position my hips downward, resting my body on top of him. He breathes heavily through his nose and runs his fingers up and down my back, waiting for me to take things further.

I move my head so my lips hover above his ear and draw one earlobe into my mouth. His hands move down my waist, grabbing me tightly and pulling me hard against him. He makes a delicious noise, sort of a cross between a grunt and a moan before he rears up, tossing me onto my back. The sheet falls down, exposing my breasts to him. Sam’s wild sandy hair flops against his forehead as he stares greedily at my body. He lowers his mouth to my breast and sucks and nibbles at me until I’m writhing beneath him. Trailing warm kisses up my neck, he breathes into my ear, “Do you still want to trust me?”

“Yes, I do.” And I mean it.

Sam turns me onto my side, positioning himself behind me. He lifts one of my legs places his strong thigh between my soft ones. He pulls my hair up and away from my neck before giving me a soft bite in the space between my neck and shoulder. I reach back, running my fingers through his hair as I push my hips back and into his. The back of his hand brushes against my bottom as he sheaths himself, and I urge him to hurry by moving my hips back and forth.

Sam rubs himself against my opening, coating his length before entering me with one long, solid thrust. My eyes fall shut and I exhale sharply, reveling in the feeling of his hard body pressed against my back. His arm is stretched out above me, his hand wrapping around a spoke on the headboard, using it as leverage to thrust deeper. He brings his other hand around to cup my full breast, massaging it before playfully pinching my nipple. I encourage him by pressing my hips further back, willing him to go faster.

Sam’s hand leaves my breast and goes to cup me. He uses his fingers to rub out small, quick circles that make my body hum. The fullness of him inside me mixed with the rapidity of his glorious fingers has me moaning into the crook of my arm as the orgasm slams into me. My mind turns blissfully blank as the pleasure racks my body. Sated desire prickles my skin and gives me goose flesh. I’m still recovering from my high when Sam, one hand gripping my hip furiously, gives a long and throaty grunt into my shoulder, releasing himself inside me.

I relax into him, my body purring, as he recovers and pulls his thigh from between mine. He rises up on his elbow and rests a hand against my belly then places a sweet kiss on my temple.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes against me.

He’s the amazing one. I’ve never been with such a thoughtful lover before. It makes me feel sexy and beautiful. “You’re pretty amazing yourself, Mr. James,” I say, eyes still closed, lips smiling at him.

Sam places another kiss just beneath my ear before turning away from me. “I’m going to hop in the shower. You’re welcome to join me.” I can hear the smile in his voice and turn on my back to look over at him. He gets up from the bed, divests himself of the condom and raises his arms, stretching his muscles. This is a view I could get used to.

Sam gives me a naughty grin and beckons me with a finger to follow. I need to use the bathroom, but there’s no way I’m doing that with him a few feet away in the shower.

“Sounds nice,” I agree, wrapping the sheet around me, “but maybe I could use a different bathroom first, freshen up a bit?”

“Of course, down the hall and past the kitchen, first door on the right. But don’t take too long.”

I wait for him to close the door to the master bath before slipping out of bed. I grab a t-shirt from the Craftsman chair next to me and slip it on over my head as I pad down the hallway. There’s something innately private about going to the bathroom. I’m going to make a new resolution here and now that I will never be one of those people that talk about their day or the state of the economy with their lover while sitting on the shitter.

I hear Sam humming to himself in the shower as I step back into the bedroom. I stifle a giggle. He’s humming the chorus to ‘Sharp Dressed Man.’ As a native Texan, I have a deep and abiding love for the long bearded old-timers of ZZ Top, but still, it’s an unexpected choice. I lift the hem of the t-shirt, ready to hop in the shower and let Sam James lather me up, when I see something glinting from inside the vase on the dresser.

I peer into it. There’s something small and shiny resting at the bottom. I glance at the door, listening as Sam hums out the instrumental chorus of the song, and reach into the vase, feeling around with my fingertips until I touch something small and circular. I loop it around the tip of my finger and draw my hand from the vase. My heart hammers against my chest as I see the beautiful and rather large diamond glinting back at me.

I bring my hand to my lips, sickened by this discovery. The sound of the shower being turned off jolts me into action. I carefully drop the ring back inside the vase and turn to gather my clothes from the floor, lifting his shirt over my head and throwing it onto the bed. When I said I wanted to trust him, I was telling the truth, but that was before I found out he keeps his ex-fiancé’s engagement ring in a vase on his dresser. No, I’ve been burned one too many times to leave myself unprotected. I’ve got to find out if Sam is still in love with his ex. If my psychic senses aren’t going to do their job and warn me of possible heartbreak, I’m going to have to do it for myself.

“Hey there, pretty lady. Change your mind about the shower?” Sam emerges from the bathroom with a towel slung low around his waist.

As freaked out as I am, I can’t help but wish a strong breeze would overtake that towel right now.
No!
Get your head out of the gutter, girl. This is no time to be blinded by lust. “I just didn’t realize how late it is!” I exclaim. “I’ve got to get back to Luanne’s and change before work.” I zip myself up and drop to my knees, pulling a shoe from beneath the bed and avoiding Sam’s eyes. I’m a terrible liar and I’m pretty sure if I hang around much longer, I’m going to go all ‘Dr. Phil’ on his ass about hiding his ex-fiancé from me.