Push Me (To The Edge series, #1) (12 page)

“It would be kind of stupid for me to make two trips,” I said, changing my tone
to match his.

“Agreed.”

Sam stood there in the same pose, hands in pockets, his grayish blue eyes trained on mine.

He was standing between
me and the hotel entrance. I took a step around him and, without looking back, said, “One comment about me having trouble with the door and you’re not invited.”

I heard him laugh softly
.

As
I approached the door, I saw his reflection in the glass. He was turning around to follow me into the hotel.

.  .  .  .  .

We got on the elevator with three other people. A man asked which floor we needed and I told him five.

Sam and I stood at the back of the elevator next to each other, both of us facing forward. It stopped on the second floor, and three more people got in. A lady said, “Top floor, please.” They were apparently going to the rooftop restaurant.

During the shuffle to make room for our new passengers, I moved to the right side of the elevator car while Sam, for some reason, moved to the left. We both stood with our backs against the sides of the car, facing each other.

While the slowest elevator in the world climbed to each floor, I tried to read Sam’s face.

Nothing. Not even a hint of excitement, dread, anticipation, second thoughts…just a blank stare. I tried my hardest to do the same, despite feeling all of the things I just mentioned.

In the remaining minute or so until we reached the fifth floor, I coached myself:
This is no big deal. I’m rebounding. So what? People do this all the time. Maybe that’s exactly what Sam is doing. I’m not committing to anything. Rebound. Simple. Just like Rachel said. That’s all this is. No big deal.

My gaze left Sam and went to the numbers over the door. I watched as the number four dimmed, then the number five lit up, and I heard the bell.

The doors opened and Sam said, “Excuse us. Watch yourselves. Sometimes she has trouble with doors.”

I shook my head and looked down.

The other people moved to let us out, the doors closed, and Sam and I were alone in the hallway. My room wasn’t far, just a few doors down. As soon as we were alone in the hallway, I swung my arm to the side and landed a smack right on his chest.

“That,” I said, “was for the door comment.”

“I wanted to see if you would really withdraw your invitation.”

I slid the card into the door-lock without looking at him.

“Want me to wait out here?” he said.

I turned toward him, my back against the door, holding it slightly ajar. “You’re talking too much.”

I reached up and grabbed his shirt, pulling his face down toward mine. Our mouths crashed together. Sam took a deep breath, turned his head to the side a little, and we got into an urgent kiss.

I’d felt more than a little sexual tension between us prior to the kiss, but when our lips and tongues tangled, I realized just how much had built up. Sam’s need matched my own.

We stopped to catch our breath and Sam said, “There was no way I was going to wait out here.” He stepped forward, pushing me into the room. He had one hand on the small of my back, holding me close, while I walked backward.

The door closed and clicked. The room was dark, except for the soft illumination from the city lights that streamed in through the window.

Sam walked me backwards until the backs of my legs hit something. Unfortunately, it was a chair, and not the bed. Before I could topple over, I grabbed on tightly to his shoulders, and he lifted me up. I’m not heavy by any means, but the ease with which he raised my body off the ground as if I were weightless surprised me.

He had done some pretty amazing things with his body on the baseball field and my arousal spiked as I anticipated what he would do to—no,
with
—me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and he continued our trek through the room. When I felt him stop, I said, “Turn around.”

Sam turned so he had his back to the bed, then fell onto it, taking me with him.

Straddling his lap, I felt just how much he wanted me. He was hard and I felt him throbbing against me, making me even wetter than I already was.

I sat straight up, tugging his shirt up to his neck and over his head. It was still around one of his arms but he left it there.

I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the course hairs covering his firm pecks.

I pulled my shirt off, then unhooked my bra, and lowered myself onto his chest, kissing him again.

My nipples hardened against his body. The warmth of skin-on-skin was something I’d sorely missed. And I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to press myself against the firm chest of a man, the course hair on his chest adding to the sensation.

We were biting and nipping at each other’s lips, his hands were exploring my thighs, then my stomach, and finally he cupped both of my breasts in his hands. The feeling of his strong hands holding me, his thumbs tweaking my nipples, was making me grind harder on his lap. I saw the lights of the city out the window before I closed my eyes so I could soak up this feeling.

Sam lifted his head and pulled me farther up the length of his body. I felt the warmth of his mouth as his lips sealed around one of my nipples.

I felt one of his hands between us, then he tugged at the button on my pants, releasing it, lowered the zipper, and his hand slid down into my underwear.

One finger found my clit, and he held it there as my body involuntarily rocked against it, the pressure just right, almost enough to make me come just then.

I didn’t want to move, but after a moment of heavy sighing right into Sam’s mouth, I suddenly found myself being rolled over onto my back.

He lowered his face to mine and kissed me intensely, our tongues twisting around, as he parted my legs with his knee.

I was determined not to let this opportunity pass. I was going to be as aggressive as I wanted. I didn’t have to let him be in charge, and he wasn’t demanding it. I reached down and found his belt buckle, unfastened it, unbuttoned his jeans and slipped my hands down into his boxers.

It struck me that I never would have gotten that far with
Ian. And then I scolded myself for even thinking of him at a moment like that. I was able to push him out of my mind by concentrating on Sam’s reaction to my touch.

I wrapped my fingers around his cock, feeling the warmth of it, the hardness, and the little droplet of pre-come already forming at the tip.

He moaned into my mouth as his tongue pressed against mine with more eagerness.

“God,
Dawn…” His voice trailed off.

Between those words and the way he said them, combined with the situation developing in his pants, I feared the worst. “If you come now, I’m never reading your book.”

His face was against mine, so I couldn’t see him, but I felt him smile against my mouth. “Not even close.”

Thank God.

We slowed down after Sam peeled my slacks and panties off. The passion hadn’t diminished. Not at all. It had become more deliberate. We were taking our time, concentrating on kissing, feeling, rolling with each other on top of the comforter, no rush, two people perfectly in sync, letting the thrill reach its full potential.

There was almost complete silence in the room—no music, no loud hotel room AC unit—just the sounds the two of us were making.

I was on my back, with Sam kneeling between my legs, which I had wrapped around the backs of his thighs. I ran my hands through his hair, down his neck, to his shoulders, then let my fingertips explore the well-defined contours of his chest and stomach.

All the while, Sam was still teasing me. Slowly moving back and forth, his cock sliding back and forth across my clit, the head parting my lips slightly with each stroke.

He leaned over me, reaching for something. Somehow, in the midst of taking off his jeans, he’d had the presence of mind to strategically place a condom on the bedside table.

He knelt again, and I looked up at him, his figure bathed in the faint bluish light from outside the window.

With the condom rolled on, he lowered his face to kiss me, rolled his hips a little, and he was notched into position.

I reflexively gasped, more from anticipation from anything else.

“Walking away last night was the most difficult thing I’ve done in a long time.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Why did you?”

He had my right earlobe between his lips, but let it go to say, “Some things are better if you wait.”

I didn’t know how this could get any better, but I didn’t say anything.

Sam’s lips grazed mine, his tongue running along my lower lip. “You don’t want to wait any longer, do you?”

“Do you want me to think about it?”

He kissed me, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, then said, “I want you to be sure.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He rocked his hips forward, letting me feel the proof of what he was about to say: “You’re killing me here, Dawn.”

“You’re the one who’s holding us up—”

And, just like that, he was inside me. No time to take a breath to brace myself before I took all of him.

I gripped his biceps, feeling his taut muscles supporting his body as he got into a slow, taunting rhythm. I moved one hand to his shoulder, then down, placing it flat against his chest.

After a couple of moments I tightened my legs around his waist and urged him to roll over. He moved onto his back, taking me with him and letting me get on top, something I hadn’t done in what seemed like forever.

Straddling him now, I worked my hips in small circles, taking all of his hard length inside me before changing my motion, slowly up,
then down, picking up the pace, riding his cock.

I looked down at his hands cupping my
breasts, his thumbs exciting me, then shifted my gaze to his eyes. They were wide, intently focused on what he was doing with his hands as if he wanted to memorize every bit of it.

Sam moved us to the edge of the bed. He sat with his feet on the floor, with me straddling his lap and my arms wrapped around his neck. I buried my face in the crook of his neck,
then moved to his wide shoulder, my lips running across his skin.

One of his hands was on the small of my back and when he held me tighter it felt like his fingers spread the entire width of my body. With his other hand, he had a loose grip on my hair, using it to guide my head back, exposing my neck for a few kisses, a lick,
then gentle sucking.

I’d been lost in the feeling until Sam smoothly swung us both around—never leaving my body—and had me on my back again. I knew from the way he was breathing that he was close. The thought of all of this—the newfound freedom I had with him, the flawless way we moved together and fit together—all of it brought me to the brink.

He fucked me faster, deeper, as I held one hand on the back of his upper thigh, pulling him into me.

Both of his hands were on the bed, just behind my head, as he propped himself up. I reached for his arms and let my hands slide down his flexed biceps, to his forearm, finally stopping so I could hold onto his wrists. I gripped them tighter and tighter with each passing
second as I got closer, my breath growing shallow and quick.

Sam picked up on my sounds and my body language. “I don’t want this over so soon.”

But I couldn’t hold out any longer, and I let myself lose control as waves of pleasure spilled through my body.

Clenching around him was all it took for him to follow.

As my stomach heaved with the raging orgasm, I felt his cock pulsing, surging, as he came.

.  .  .  .  .

“Does my hair fascinate you?” I asked.

He was lying on his back, with me halfway on top of him, our legs entwined. My head was on his chest, and he was twirling a lock of my hair.

“This hair is mostly to blame for me not recognizing you right away.”

I turned my head, placing my chin on his chest, so I could look at his face. “You know, I almost forgot about that. You probably shouldn’t bring that up again.”

His face did that thing where he smiled with just his eyes. I’d seen people do that before, but Sam was more expressive.

“If I never mention it again,
” he said, “then I’ll have to forget about you standing me up.”

“That’s the idea.” I bit his nipple.

He flinched. “Okay, we’ll do it your way.”

As we lay there quietly, I began to have some thoughts I wasn’t expecting. Mainly, that I wanted him to leave.

It wasn’t something he did or didn’t do. It had nothing to do with anything more than the fact that I simply didn’t want to go there. Strange? Maybe. After all, we had just had sex, so what was the big deal about spending the night together?

At the moment, it just felt like too much. Almost as if that would come with unwanted expectations.
Expectations that I wasn’t ready to confront.