“Rawr,” I deadpanned. “Now hush and let me pretend like I don’t have things dripping from… places.”
He laughed loud and deep before pressing another kiss to my lips and hauling himself up to get a cloth from the bathroom. I let myself lie there and bask in the role of pampered one even though it darned near killed me. When he returned from the bathroom, he reached out to wipe me down, murmuring something about being surprised I hadn’t followed him to the bathroom and insisted on cleaning my own self thank you very much.
“I’m trying to keep you guessing,” I said as my face ignited with embarrassment. I’d never had another man wipe me down before, and when the cloth got close to my private parts, I snatched it out of his grip and took over. Apparently, my ability to withstand pampering had hard limits.
Once we were both cleaned up, Sam spooned me under the covers again. “You feeling okay from the sex?” he asked after a few minutes of snuggling.
“I’m feeling boneless and giddy after the sex,” I admitted. “And relaxed enough to doze off.”
“Mm. I thought we came back here because you needed to work. Orders to fill and whatnot? It turns out… you just wanted to seduce me.”
Sam’s voice was deep and languid, the perfect backdrop to the floaty way I was feeling. “You found me out.”
We drifted for a little while, fingertips brushing softly against each other’s skin until my body began to react more strongly and I wanted him again.
I let out a little whimper of need without realizing it.
“You’re killing me,” Sam murmured against my ear. “Please let me have you again. Are you sore? It’s okay. I can do other things.” He proceeded to do lots of other things while my brain scrambled to put thoughts into words.
“Have me again,” I managed. “Please.”
This time it started off slow and breathtakingly sweet. No frantic rush of desperation like before. He treated me like I was the most valuable treasure on earth, and I wallowed in it. No one had ever made me feel so beautiful and sensual. He ran his hands over my body like he wanted to learn every inch. His mouth sipped at my skin like he was thirsting for it, and his murmured endearments sent the drunken hummingbirds flapping wildly around my stomach.
As soon as he pressed inside again, this time from behind, I could tell he was holding way back. He was afraid of hurting me.
“Move,” I said. “More.”
“S’okay. Good like this.”
But I wanted it harder, and somehow I found the guts to tell him so. “Harder. Faster. Fuck me.”
My words made him groan, and his body responded immediately. The slap of his hips against my ass was so hot, it made me even harder. Listening to his grunts and feeling his hard body tense and flex behind me made me feel hot and sexy, powerful and masculine. Desired. Appreciated.
I felt like I was flying.
Sam’s hand came down and wrapped around me, stroking in time with his thrusts until I was crying out my release.
Was this really my life?
I collapsed face-first into the mattress and grinned like a loon.
“Get up, lazyass,” Sam murmured as he kissed me awake. “If you’re not going to pack orders, then we’re going for a ride on the motorcycle.”
He was so excited about it, I agreed happily and washed up before getting dressed in clean clothes.
Sam drove us back over to Rockley Lodge and ran inside to grab the extra helmet he had.
When it was finally time to climb onto the bike, I was having second thoughts.
“Maybe it makes more sense for me to—” I began, but Sam cut me off by lifting me up and plonking me on the back of the seat and slipping his leather jacket over my shoulders. I nodded. “Okay. We’re doing this. It’s happening. Yes. I am riding a motorcycle.”
Sam grinned as he leaned in to kiss me on the lips. His movements slowed as his mouth met mine, and he kissed me as if we had all the time in the world and he wanted to savor the very taste of me.
He finally rested his forehead against mine. “I have to tell you I’m having some feelings.”
My heart jumped around like a puppy catching sight of his leash. “What, um, what kind of feelings?”
His normally stoic face turned soft, but his mossy-green eyes were just as intense as they always were when they met mine. “Positive feelings. About you. Possessive feelings.” His hand moved from my cheek to my hair as he brushed my messy mop out of the way and slid the helmet on my head. “I don’t want to rush things, Truman. But I really like you, and I hope you’ll give me a chance to spend more time getting to know you. I’m really happy you asked if we could define what this is between us. I like that. You and me.”
I nodded, noticing my head felt heavier with the helmet on it. “Me too,” I said with as much courage as I could rustle up. “I’m having feelings, too. Strong feelings.”
Sam’s grin was as bright as the midday sun, and it gave me permission to trust his words. He really meant it.
Sam Rigby was having feelings for me. Truman Sweet. The guy who was nothing very special and about as sexy as a toilet brush. What in the world had I done to attract him?
When Sam threw his leg over the bike and knocked back the kickstand, the bike tilted precariously to one side. I yelped and wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I dared. The low rumble of his chuckle vibrated against my chest, and I decided I might be okay with risking my life if it meant spending a few minutes plastered to this big warm body.
When he started the engine, it added a completely new rumble, and we set off down the driveway. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and focused on breathing. This was obviously not his usual bike, but he rode it like it was. His body was loose and easy as he leaned into the turns. Mine, on the other hand, was a tight ball of strained elastic band on the verge of snapping.
The cold mountain air was mostly buffeted by Sam’s much larger body, and I eventually noticed the warmth of the sun on my back through the thick jacket. We rode away from the town and up into the mountains, slowly rounding the curves and catching glimpses of the valley far below until finally stopping at an overlook. Sam parked the bike and helped me off.
“This is gorgeous,” I said, referring to the view of Aster Valley below. I could barely make out the meadow behind my property across the valley. It was a tiny bare patch among the trees. I recognized the small white farmhouse and tidy grids of my farm plots.
I squatted down to investigate a patch of small pinky-purple blooms. The air was crisp and clean, and there was a special kind of hush around us, only interrupted by the gentle mountain breeze and faint trickle of snowmelt somewhere.
“Phlox subulata,” I murmured. “Did you know the roots of this plant were used to make an eyewash in early native tribes? The Cheyenne also used it to treat body numbness. Like a kind of stimulant. They’d make it into a bodywash. I actually use Phlox in my eczema mixture. There’s an edible version of Phlox, but it’s not this. This is the wild creeping Phlox subulata. Definitely not edible.”
I stood back up and glanced over at Sam, wondering if my sudden burst of plant knowledge had turned him off. He stood right next to me, pointing his phone at the small flowers and taking a picture. Then he pointed it at me and took another one.