WHATEVER SAM HAD THOUGHT Emma was going to say, it wasn’t that. He’d thought their marriage could withstand anything. Sometimes he’d wondered how Emma could deal with Danny’s absences and wild streak. Or if she suspected he might not have been faithful. Or even why Danny would choose to hang out with pilots instead of his wife, but he figured they’d worked out their own lives and it wasn’t his business. “You’ve never told anyone?”
Emma shook her head slowly, her large eyes dark and wide. But it was the way she was playing with her hands that let him know just how nervous she was about her confession. Since they’d reconnected, Sam hadn’t noticed her fidgeting with her fingers like she used to back in the day.
“I’ve felt so guilty over it,” she said, her voice catching.
“Oh, Emma. I’m sorry things had been rough for you. Even sorrier that you had to carry that burden on your own.”
Her lips parted in a sigh, but her body didn’t relax.
Wrapping his arms around her, pressing her close with her cheek on his chest, he rocked her gently.
“He was a good man,” she mumbled, her breath leaching through the fabric of his T-shirt. “He loved me. He did. I never doubted that.” She gripped the back of his shirt. “He didn’t understand that I got lonely sometimes. That I was hoping for a family. Mostly, though, I was tired of being so low in his priorities.”
Sam held her even tighter. “I loved Danny like a brother, still do. But he had an ego on him. He craved the spotlight like he craved adrenaline. Hard to compete with that.”
Her nod was tiny, but her hands loosened, so he knew something was getting through.
“The important thing now is for you to stop feeling guilty about wanting the kind of life you deserve. You’re amazing, Emma, and you’ll be a great mother. I can see you with a couple of kids. Danny did love you, you’re right. But I think he loved being a fighter pilot even more.”
She leaned back, looked up into his eyes. “Really? You knew that?”
Sam nodded, not wanting to tell her that he understood too well that Danny lived for flying. All three of them had. If Sam had married young he probably would have acted the same way, even though he’d like to think otherwise. “He did the best he could. I think he would have been sad to hear you’d wanted a divorce, but he would have understood it, too.”
“I’d like to believe that.”
He kissed her nose. “Believe it. Whatever else, he’d want you happy. That I can swear to.”
She smiled at him, and he bent to kiss her. He licked away the hint of tears on her lips, but he didn’t press. More than anything he ached to take her to bed, to comfort her and please her. But she’d just unloaded a heavy pack, and if she needed some time to recuperate then—
“Take me to bed, Sam,” she said, her lips a scant inch from his own.
Wasting no time, he led her into the bedroom, where he started to undress her, but she shook her head. “If you don’t mind, I just want to be in bed with you as quickly as possible.”
“For the record, no. I don’t mind. Take that as a given.”
That made her laugh, which was good. Great. He wished he could make all her worries disappear, but at least this one, this guilt she’d had that somehow she’d been selfish or wrong about her marriage, he could mitigate. He’d told her the truth. Danny would want her happy.
All of her clothes were already on his office chair when he stripped out of his jeans and boxers. He had to press on his hardening cock, just for a moment, to relieve the immediate ache, because there was no way not to react to her naked body. It was as if she’d been made to his specifications. Or maybe that was backward. Maybe he’d been so infatuated with Emma for so long that she’d become his ideal. He didn’t care which, as long as he could have her.
Not that he was counting his chickens. He hoped they were starting something that would last, but— Screw it. He wasn’t going to think about what could go wrong, not when he was crawling between the sheets with his dream woman.
He didn’t want to rush this. There was no hurry, despite his rapid heartbeat and the need to be as close to her as possible. “You’re right, you know.”
“About what?” she asked as she curled around him, straddling his waist. She peppered him with kisses. Nose, cheek, chin, forehead. Random little pecks that ended too quickly. It was like being licked by hummingbirds.
“The friendship thing wasn’t working for me, either,” he said, letting her have her way. Grinning when she nipped his earlobe. “Not that I wouldn’t have kept on trying, but it was sorely testing me.”
“I know,” she said, just before she licked a swipe across his lower lip. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even during class. One of my students caught me in full blush. Had the nerve to ask me what was making me so pink.”
“What did you do?”
“Gave them a pop quiz, that’s what. I don’t put up with that kind of impudence in my classroom.”
He barked a laugh. “That’ll show ’em.”
“Damn straight.” She reared her head back so she could look at him. “But it taught me a lesson. I have to be careful when it comes to you. Once I let you into my thoughts, it’s difficult to change gears.”
“You don’t have to worry about that now. I don’t want you to change anything. In fact, I can only encourage you to remember what made you blush so I can be sure to do it again.”
“Let’s see if you can work that out on your own.”
He raised his eyebrows. “A challenge, huh?”
Her grin was pure wicked fun. Not even a hint of sadness remained. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a late class tomorrow. Feel free to take your time. And be sure to show your work.”
“Why, Ms. Lockwood. Will you keep me after class if I get anything wrong?”
Lowering her lips to his, she whispered, “I have great faith in your tenacity and skill.” Then she kissed him.
The last thing he cared about was dazzling her with his moves. But he did want to make her happy and satisfied. The kiss deepened, and after all that teasing, the lingering push-pull of their tongues felt like an unbearable luxury. Her low moan sounded a lot like a purr, which was a sign he was on the right track.
He hoped she liked a slow buildup, because that was what he planned on giving her. If he could hold out. His aim was to drive all coherent thoughts from her head, to leave her wrecked by pure pleasure.
First, though, he urged her onto her side so they faced each other. As he continued their interrupted kiss, he brushed his knuckles across the tender flesh of the back of her knees, then turned his hand over and skimmed his palm slowly up her thigh. When he found the curve of her buttock, he lingered, used his knuckles again, just hard enough that it wouldn’t tickle.
She squirmed against him, making soft noises. Her open palms were exploring him, too, only she was concentrating on his chest. When she tugged his nipple between her thumb and finger she wasn’t the only one squirming.
He moved his touch to the edge of her inner thigh then stopped. Emma arched into his hand. “No fair.”
He could have played her for hours, but she let him know she wanted to move more quickly by sliding her hand down and gripping his cock. To further make her point she simply held him. No stroking at all.
Despite the persuasiveness of the gesture he wasn’t going to just flip her on her back and attack, although the idea had merit. No, she’d said to show his work, to take his time.
He turned his lowered hand over and ran one finger down to the back of her knee, then around to the front. Still using only a single digit, he traced a path up her vulnerable inner thigh, smiling when the higher he went the wider she spread her legs.
He mapped his way up the side of her folds, maneuvering his position until he had her beautiful breasts in licking distance. A good pilot knew how to press several buttons at once, and he was a damn good pilot. Sucking her left nipple into his mouth, he swirled his tongue while down below he got closer and closer to the wet heat between her legs.
Her wriggles were becoming an issue, but he wasn’t the kind of man who buckled under pressure. But when she squeezed his cock, then stroked him with the perfect amount of pressure, he folded like a cheap paper bag.
The one finger became two as he hit moist, hot flesh. From there it was a matter of seconds to find her very hard little clit.
He took her almost soundless gasp as a good sign.
When he pulled back to switch his attention to her neglected breast, he looked up. Her pupils couldn’t have been any larger, her lush mouth damp and perfect. She narrowed her gaze, but instead of speaking she loosened her grip and scooted down until she could cup his balls. “Are you trying to drive me insane?”
He frowned. “Trying? We’re more than halfway there, wouldn’t you say?”
She squeezed. Not hard, simply as a reminder. “Maybe it’s time I took the wheel.”
His fingers, having never stopped rubbing in gentle circles, pushed inside her, stroking in and out and in harder. “Better?”
She rolled his sack in her palm, then moved back to gripping his shaft. “Remember,” she said in a very sketchy voice, “this will count for at least half your final grade.”
He sighed. “All right then. I guess I’ll have to bring out the big guns.”
“So full of yourself.”
“No, but you will be.” He’d been thinking about the move since he’d begun the slow burn, and now, all the pieces fell together in a move that would have made his hand-to-hand instructors weep. When she looked up at him this time, her head was on the pillow, her arms flung wide, and he was sliding into position between her spread knees.
“Well, okay then,” she said. Her panting had accelerated and a flush bloomed on her chest.
“One last bit,” he said, before he kissed her silly.
While he struggled to maintain contact he grabbed a condom from the bedside table and had that sucker open in two hot seconds. Once that was accomplished, he bent over her, balancing himself on his straightened arms. “Okay?”
She brought her heels up to dig into the mattress. “God, yes.”
His moan must have carried all the way to the base as he entered her up to the root.
* * *
EMMA DIDN’T WANT to close her eyes. The sun was going down and golden light bled into the room through the top of his windows, illuminating the bed so she could see his five o’clock shadow, the white of his teeth against his tan skin. But she could barely look away from his eyes. Even now when they were pressed tightly shut, with his chin jutting out, and his panting breaths setting a rhythm that matched his thrusts.
He’d surprised her again. He’d been caring and sweet and funny and hot. Driven her insane with each graze of his finger, turning up the heat until he had her suspended at the cusp of an orgasm.
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t come yet. She knew she could with him inside her, she had before, and he was hitting exactly the right spot, but not every time. So she remained in limbo. The part that was always over too soon, when her climax was inevitable, when nothing short of a cataclysm could stop the oncoming rush. And Sam held her there, her muscles tense, her heart beating impossibly fast.
She pulsed up as he thrust in, crying out when he rubbed against her oh-so-sensitized clit.
“That’s it,” he said, speeding up. “Come on, gorgeous. Don’t hold back. Look at you, so hot, so amazing. God, I want to do everything all at once.”
Her nails had to be scraping the hell out of his back, but she couldn’t seem to stop. It wasn’t possible for the pressure to build any more, and yet—
Sam bent down and took her in a fevered kiss, his body trembling as he thrust into her so hard the whole bed moved.
She came apart. Crying out, jerking so hard she tore away from his lips, feeling the release in every cell. He was pressing against her, the tendons of his neck straining, his heat burning her up.
Time slid and dipped. He moved to her side, she struggled for breath, he touched her hand. She must have drifted off, but not for long because the light had gone from gold to orange.
She could feel him everywhere, imprinted forever.
* * *
THE NEXT TIME she opened her eyes, it was dark. Her head and his were sharing a pillow. They were touching from shoulders to knees, and at some point Sam had pulled the blankets over them.
She closed her eyes, although she didn’t want to fall asleep again, not yet. She considered all the nights she’d gone to bed alone. The mornings her only company had been the alarm. This was different in more ways than the obvious. The second she’d come to consciousness, she’d felt his presence. The scent of sex was there, but so was his scent alone. The bed still smelled more of him than them.
His body was big. Safe in a very primal way. She wasn’t a delicate flower, but she could let herself be protected by this man and feel no less strong.
None of that mattered as much as the fact that it was Sam. She didn’t need a man. She wanted Sam. Big difference.
There were issues to deal with, and she wasn’t about to run from them, but for the moment all she cared about was sleeping pressed up against Sam Brody.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice crackling with sleep.
“How did you know?”
“Spidey sense.”
She elbowed him lightly. “Come on. How?”
“Your breathing changed. You grew tense for a bit. And you’ve moved closer to me.”
She hadn’t noticed that last part. “So I have. I’m sorry I woke you, though.”
He reached over and ran his palm from her neck down her chest, lingering over her breast, and then her hip bone. “You have my permission to wake me anytime.”
“You say that now—”
“I didn’t promise not to be grumpy about it. Besides, I’m easy. You already know how to render me helpless.”
“That’s true. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Do you need anything,” he asked, inching closer still. “Water? A bathroom break?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “You were right about the bed.”
She smiled. “Beds are very important. Ask anyone who had to share one with her sister. That went on for three years until I was seven.”
“I hope it was a big bed.”
“Sadly, no,” she said. “It’s a miracle we both made it out alive.”
He hummed for a few seconds, rubbed his thumb over her skin. “I wanted a little brother so bad. I begged my mom. My dad had split when I was three, and she was so busy trying to raise me by herself, she didn’t date a whole lot.”
She opened her eyes again, but not for long. As much as she wanted to talk to Sam, especially about his life before she’d known him, it had to be very late. “Why did I think your father had died?”
“He might as well have been dead. He wanted nothing to do with us.”
“Oh, Sam, I’m sorry. But your mom did a good job by herself.”
“It wasn’t easy. He never paid child support. He took the trouble to divorce my mother, but only so he could get married again. Start a new family.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Doesn’t matter. We did just fine on our own.”
“I’ll say.”
The hum came back, and she knew sleep was going to win any second, but she couldn’t help one last question. “The other night you mentioned that you thought you’d get married someday. How come it hasn’t happened yet, Sam?”
He got quiet, and just when she thought he’d dozed off, he said, “There was someone back when I was at Hill. You and Danny were at Hill.”
“Yeah, he told me about her. What happened?”
His hand moved back up her body, and this time he let it rest on her breast. It felt nice. “She was an air force brat. Colonel’s daughter. We were good together, and I thought about making it something permanent.”
“But?”
She felt him shrug. “In the end, I couldn’t do it. That famous spark we’ve talked about...it wasn’t there, you know? I liked her a lot. But there was no magic.”
Just yesterday they’d sat in his Mustang talking about Gary, and Sam had said a spark didn’t make a relationship. But clearly it made a difference. “You think there has to be magic?”
He kissed her cheek. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
She sighed, and thought about that until she drifted off.