Resisting Samantha (Hope Parish Novels Book 10) (24 page)

Damn, but she filled
up that hole in me, and I wanted to do that for her, but knew I
couldn’t do it now, maybe not ever. I had to accept that I
wouldn’t be enough to take away that pain.

She took another
tremulous breath, and I smoothed one hand across her back, molding
her tightly against me. Easing in a tight breath of my own, I brushed
a kiss to the top of her head. My voice gruff and uneven, I said,
“It’s okay, sugar. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

I dragged her onto
my lap, the shift intimately and fully settling her body against
mine. A tremor coursed through her, and Samantha leaned heavily into
me. Softly she said, “Move in with me.”

I lifted my head,
looking right in her eyes. “What did you say?” I asked,
drawing an unsteady breath.

“I want you to
move in with me, Chase.”

I covered her mouth
in a kiss that was raw with hope, governed by a need to comfort and
reassure. Samantha went still. Then, with a soft exhalation, she
clutched at me and yielded to a deep, comforting kiss. I slid my hand
along her jaw, my callused fingers snagging in the long strands of
her hair as I adjusted the angle of her head. She moved against me,
and I shuddered and tightened my hold, a fever of emotion sluicing
through me, while I wished—ah, God, wished—I could draw
her right inside me and keep her there, safe, forever.

Dragging my mouth
away, I trailed a string of kisses down her neck, holding her against
my chest. I held her like that, my hand cupping the back of her neck,
until my breathing evened out; then I turned and stretched out full
length on the bed, trying to get a grip on the wild clamor rising up
inside me. Then I sat up and yanked the T-shirt off her.

I was shaking nearly
as badly as she was when I dragged her beneath me. I felt as if my
heart would explode, as if my lungs would seize up, if I didn’t
get inside her, if I didn’t get as close to her as I could
possibly get. She drew up her knees, urging me forward with clumsy
hands, and I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes, burying myself deep
inside her, tight and deep.

I locked my arms
around her, a shudder coursing through me, and I ground my teeth
together, the sensory onslaught nearly ripping me apart. It wasn’t
the sex; it was the physical connection, as if being inside her fused
us into one united whole. Braced against the mind-shattering
sensation, I remained rigid in her arms, waiting for the heated,
electrifying rush to ease.

When the storm
passed, I released a shaky sigh, pushed up onto my elbows, my heart
trapped in my chest as I covered her mouth in a slow, wet, softly
searching kiss.

Samantha sobbed into
my mouth, clutching at me, and she lifted her hips, rolling her
pelvis hard against me. I gripped the back of her head tight and
locked my other arm around her buttocks, working my mouth hungrily
against hers, lifting her higher, then rolling my hips. Samantha made
a choked sound, and I drank it in, my mind blurring with a red haze
when she countered my thrust, moving beneath me. Aware of how
desperately she needed this kind of comfort, I dragged my mouth away
and gritted my teeth, a fine sheen of sweat dampening my skin as I
moved against her, trying to give her the maximum contact, trying to
hang on until she unraveled like she was unraveling me.

She made another
wild sound, and her counterthrusts turned erratic. I tightened my
hold. My senses on overdrive, I jammed my face against the crook of
her neck and hammered into her, fighting to go the distance.

Samantha arched with
a soft, poignant cry, and my face, my body, my entire being contorted
with an agony of pleasure as she convulsed around me. Then with a
ragged groan, I went rigid in her arms and let go, emptying myself
deep inside her. Holding on to her, her face wet against my neck, I
felt as if she had shattered me and put me back together in one
heartbeat. I pressed my mouth against her temple and closed my eyes,
my pulse choppy and erratic, the feelings in my chest almost too much
to handle. She made me feel unbreakable.

“I’ll
take that as a yes,” she murmured.

All I could do was
grin down at her like a fool.

CHASE

I finished shaving
and bent over to splash water on my face. When I came back up,
Samantha was right behind me, looking sleep-tousled, her hair wild,
her eyes drowsy. She was back to her old self after the grief of last
night. I was sore everywhere when I got up, but at the same time as
happy as hell. The fragile look in her face bothered the bejesus out
of me. I’d seen her withdraw, and I’d seen her wounded
and as wary as a cornered gator, but I’d never seen her look
so…breakable, before. But managing that kind of grief had to
take a toll. She’d really opened up, letting me see everything
last night.

And yet, she still
asked me to move in with her, and I was ready to do it.

“Hey, there
sleepyhead.”

“Good morning,
handsome.” She pinched my bottom through the black cotton boxer
briefs and turned on the tap on her side of the vanity. Pulling all
that hair off her face, she bent down and washed vigorously. The
smell of her face wash, a flowery scent, did things to me. It was the
familiarity of it, and I loved that it was something I could expect
to be smelling every day, a small detail that added to my overall
giddy mood.

After she dried her
face, she looked at me in the mirror and said, “Why are you
grinning like that?”

“You know why.
Don’t tell me it was only a dream, and you didn’t really
ask me to move in last night.”

Her eyes widened and
she rubbed her temple, heading back into the bedroom. “Hmmm.
Were we drinking last night?”

“You’re
torturing me after I made you my awesome five-layer leftover master
dish?” I complained.

“Ooh,
that
I remember. It was scrumptious.” She licked her lips in an
exaggerated way, and it took all my control not to laugh and lunge
for her.

I leaned against the
doorjamb watching her while she made the bed, fluffing up the
pillows.

“One beer
hardly got you drunk, unless you’re a lightweight,” I
scoffed, needling her. I walked over and smacked her on the butt. She
turned around and lifted her chin, mischief in her eyes. I poked her
in the chest. “You a lightweight, Yank? Cain’t hold yer
liquor?” I said, giving my accent a sizeable dose of hick. I
leaned over the bed. “Whut? No chocolate on the pillow? I’m
gonna have to wraht yew up.”

Before I could take
a second breath, she threw me face-first on the bed, knocking the air
out of me in a rush. She did this ankle-hooking thing, using my body
weight against me, and got me in a classic cop hold, my arm behind me
and twisted up, her hand firm on my wrist, both knees gently riding
my back. Her weight couldn’t hold me, but the hold was just
this side of painful. That was a lock. “That was pretty
impressive. Is this the way you take down suspects, officer?”

“Yes,
especially the cute, mouthy ones.” Her voice breathless. She
shifted her weight, her mouth hot and wet on my neck, the tip of her
tongue tracing up to my ear. I groaned softly, my dick hardening.
“Gotta make sure they’re armed and dangerous…wait...”
She let out a soft, heated breath. “I mean not…
not
armed and dangerous.” Then her mouth captured my lobe and she
bit it. It was electric and I jerked, my gasp turning to a groan when
she sucked me. “Are you packing, punk?”

I raised a brow,
grinning, loving her smart mouth. “Isn’t it your job to
find out?”

She let me go and
flipped me onto my back, then grabbed my wrists and manacled them
with her hands, dragging them over my head. “I’m a
professional, and my opinion is that you’ve got a deadly weapon
or two. Care to share where you might be hiding them, pal?”

“Being a
professional and all, I’m pretty sure you should frisk me. You
know. Do your job, copper.”

She smiled against
my mouth, “You punks always have to make it so…”
She trailed her hand down to my groin and slipped beneath the
waistband, curling her hand around me. She moved her hand over me in
a tight hold, pumping. My head fell back, and she kissed my jaw.
“…
hard
,”
she whispered, her eyes twinkling. “I know exactly how to
subdue a lethal sort such as yourself.” She lowered her head
and moistened my bottom lip, then she took my mouth, kissing me into
submission. Her thumb moving over the tip of my “weapon,”
making me gasp against her mouth.

“That is an
effective technique,” I managed around compressed lungs,
hard-on, and tight balls. I brushed a light kiss on her mouth,
grinning again. “You going to need the handcuffs, ma’am?
Should I assume the position?” I murmured against her mouth,
taking another slow, savoring taste. “Make sure that frisk is
thorough and slow, so you don’t miss a thing.”

“Oh, I’m
thorough, mister and I won’t miss a thing…in fact…”
She stroked me again, my hips lifting. “Is that a concealed
weapon you got here? You know that’s against the law. I’m
going to have to confiscate it.”

“No, ma’am.
I’m just happy to see you,” I gasped at the sheer
pleasure while she played with me. “I swear.”

“I’m
going to have to investigate this further to see if you’re
telling the truth. Cute and mouthy punks such as yourself tend to
lie.”

She pressed a heated
kiss to my mouth, then trailed over my chin, down my neck, sucking
softly, to my collar bone, where she traced the ridge to the center
and kissed the indentation. Moving down my chest, she bit the edge of
my pectoral muscle, and licked her warm, wet tongue across my nipple,
then sucked me hard, playing with the tip with her tongue.

She bit and licked
and kissed her way to my waistband, paying attention to each
individual ridge of my abdomen.

I lifted myself on
my elbows, as she hooked her hands in the waistband of my briefs and
pulled them down. My dick jumped to attention, throbbing, and she
looked up at me. “With this deadly a weapon, I’m afraid
I’m going to have to take you in.”

“Fuck,”
I said when she took me in her mouth, riveted by the sight of what
she was doing to me, of her wrapped around me. She ran her tongue
over the top of me again, then closed her mouth and sucked, and my
hips came off the bed.

Reaching down I
tunneled my fingers into her hair, loving her, loving what she was
doing to me. I moved with her, gave myself up to the oh-so-good way
she worked me over with her mouth and her hands. I opened my legs
wider for her, and she reached down and cupped my balls. I groaned,
my head falling back, my mind floating, the pulsing sensations
rippling and gripping.

Much more of this
and it was going to be all over in a hurry.

I tried to reach
down and pull her up, but she was on a mission, and she shoved my
chest until I fell back. I pushed up again, and she met my eyes,
watching the effect of her going down on me play across my face, my
mouth open, gasping when she did something just below the head. I
groaned deep, a sharp cry as pleasure clawed hard.

Still she watched
me, my thoughts nothing but wisps in my head, everything focused on
Sam. Every impulse, every neuron, every breath riveted on only one
thing—the next touch of her tongue, the next stroke of her
hand, the next pull of her mouth, and the next, and the next until
she took me exactly where she’d wanted me to go, straight over
the edge, a free fall all the way.

My body was tight,
my dick rock hard—and my release one endless stream of bucking,
buzzing gratification coursing through me. “
Sammy
,”
I choked out as the pulsations peaked then eased.

Still gasping, I
pulled free from her mouth and dragged her up into my arms. Holding
her close, I slid my hand around the back of her neck and buried my
face in her hair.

I lay there for a
few moments, just breathing in the lovely way she smelled, and trying
to get my head back on straight. A smile curved my lips. It was
hopeless. She was amazing, and I wasn’t going to get my head on
straight anytime soon.

“What were we
talking about?”

“I don’t
know, I lost my head.” I said deadpan, and she curled against
me and laughed hard. “You are a very bad, bad, oh-so-good, but
very bad man.”

“Yeah, about
that dream I might have had…”

“Oh, that, I
remember.”

She was so damn cute
and brave. So goddamned brave. Now I knew what she endured, my
admiration and love increased tenfold. She was a true street fighter
when it came to grief.

“It
was
a dream...” she said, her eyes twinkling, even as my heart
skipped a beat, “…come true.”

“When?”

“As soon as
possible. I’ll have to tell Evie and your sister and mom, but
my furniture situation is set.”

I heard a smug tone
in her voice and pushed up so I could look into her face. “Hey,
is this about me or the furniture?”

She thought for a
moment. “The furniture,” she said and I tickled her until
she pleaded with me to stop.

“Shower?”

“Yes, you’ve
distracted me enough,
punk
.”
She kissed me and we rolled out of bed. “Beth is going to
wonder why I’m always late.”

I turned on the
shower. “It takes two to tango, ma’am,” I said,
straightening. She was staring at me and my heart turned over, the
sunlight from outside washing across her face and revealing the
tenderness in her expression. A glimmer of sorrow in her eyes.

“You called
me, Sammy. In your most unguarded moment,” she whispered
unevenly.

“I’m
sorry,” I said quietly.

She shook her head
and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around me. “No…no,
Chase. It’s fine. It’s better than fine.”

My pulse was slow
and heavy when she wrapped her arms around my neck, and, on a slow,
deep kiss, she let go of Jeff.