Pas de Deux: Part Two (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 2) (14 page)

“I'm....so good.” A soft smile curved her lips. He started to move away, but she held onto him. “Don't...not yet.”

He lowered his face to hers and slowly kissed her swollen lips, feeling her tongue slip forth to find his. They kissed slowly and deeply for several long moments until Cillian actually felt the stirrings of arousal ghost through his lower belly again. After a moment, he withdrew from her and got up to get rid of the condom. When he came back, he lay down, reaching out for her.

“Come here.” He rolled her onto her side so she was facing away from him and wrapped his arms around her, dropping his lips onto the side of her neck as she sighed contentedly and snuggled into his embrace.

“Cillian...” She trailed off, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Yeah?” He touched her cheek gently.

Sammi looked at him, her eyes wide, reaching out to touch his lips lightly. Then a wide, beautiful smile spread across face, and she shut her eyes.

She drifted off in no time, and he buried his mouth and nose in her hair, closing his eyes and letting his body relax fully for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Sammi slid out of bed, trying her best not to disturb Cillian as she scooted over the expanse of king-size mattress and sheets. She stopped when Cillian's hand suddenly tightened around her waist.

“Sam,” he mumbled. “Whassup, where you goin'?”

“Bathroom.” She leaned over to peck his temple. “Be right back.”

He grunted softly in reply and his hand relaxed, allowing her to slip away. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand as her bare feet hit the carpet, noting that it was just after four in the morning. The air conditioning chilled her naked skin, so she plucked his T-shirt from the floor and pulled it on as she padded across the cold bathroom tile.

Sammi shut the door and the silence in the room was too much to handle, so she flicked on the faucet for background noise. She used the toilet, cleaned up the remnants of their night together, then leaned against the counter and studied herself in the mirror.

The sensitive place between her thighs throbbed with soreness. For a moment, it reminded her of the pain she'd experienced after the rape, a terrible pain that, even after it left her body physically, still ghosted through her for weeks, months, afterward.

Sammi clenched her jaw, fighting back those memories as they tried to claw their way to the surface of her mind. Instead, she closed her eyes and focused on warm, gentle hands on her body. Full, sweet lips against hers. Waves of beautiful, amazing pleasure that coursed through her nonstop for the better part of an hour, all courtesy of the sleeping man in her bed.

He'd tapped some sort of hidden well deep within her; she'd never known her body was capable of becoming so aroused, so excited at his touch, so consumed with pleasure. A little smile tugged at the corners of her lips, still a little swollen from their passion, as her flesh tingled and pulsed.

A shaky, involuntary sigh slipped from her mouth and Sammi opened her eyes and met her own gaze in the mirror. The fingers of one hand touched her lips while the other had fallen between her thighs. Her dark eyes were bright and her cheeks were suddenly flushed.

He might have just created a monster.
A sensual, hungry, insatiable little monster.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she quickly turned the water off and opened the door. Cillian rubbed a hand tiredly over his face, brows drawn together in concern.

“Don't mean to bother you, just makin' sure you're all right. Been in here a minute.” His voice was husky with sleep.

“I'm...great.” The sight of him, shirtless, in a pair of low-slung boxer briefs practically falling off his Adonis-belted hips distracted her and made her feel tingly again. She licked her lips.

“Feelin' all right? You're not in any pain, or anything?” Something almost like guilt shadowed his face.

He's so worried...and there is nothing to worry about.
She smiled and reached out, unable to stop herself from stroking a finger down his stomach. “Not, like, in a bad way. It's more of an ache.”

He looked mystified, his eyes following the movement of her fingers as they traced the deep ridges of his abdominal muscles.

“Is there a
good
way to be...achy?”

Sammi looked up at him, confirming by the look in his eyes that he was ready for her the way she craved and was ready for him again. She pushed him lightly out of the bathroom, turning off the light.

“There is definitely a good way to be achy.”

She pulled off his T-shirt, letting it fall to the floor around her feet, watching as his tongue swept out over his bottom lip, his eyes moving over her naked body. She gave him another light push and he sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands reaching for her hips and sliding up her sides.

“Let me show you.”

“Really don't wanna get up,” Cillian's voice murmured into her skin early afternoon as he kissed Sammi's belly, “but I gotta get going.”

Sammi's eyes slowly opened and she stretched, smiling as she felt the dull ache in her lower belly again. She reached down to stroke his head lightly.

“What will you do until the fights start?” She watched as he pulled himself away with a groan and started hunting for his clothes.

“Whatever Baz tells me.” He tossed a smile over his shoulder at her. “Basically, I'll stretch, hydrate. Eat somethin', get my energy up. Zen out.”

“Zen out? What's that mean?”

“Get my mind right, go to my happy place. Just get focused, get in a quiet space.”

“I'd think you'd wanna pump yourself up, listen to some super loud angry music.” Sammi pulled the bed sheet around herself and drew her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them.

“When you get angry and riled up, you lose focus. When you get quiet, you hear everything, you pay attention to everything.” Cillian leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “And that's what I gotta do.”

He was already going to that focused place, Sammi thought, looking up at him. “Well, good luck.”

His eyes crinkled down at her. “Thought dancers don't say 'good luck'. Ain't it bad luck to say that?”

“But you're not a dancer.”

“Pretty sure you basically said I was, that night we got cheesesteaks.” Cillian nuzzled her neck. “You said fighting is like a pas de...whatever.”

“Pas de deux.” Sammi giggled and squirmed as he nibbled on her neck. “Go. I don't want you to miss out on...Zenning.”

“All right.” He sighed, meeting her gaze, his pewter eyes going smoky. His lips grazed her neck again, all playfulness gone. “Hey. Last night...this morning...was...incredible.”

Sammi's cheeks flushed with heat and she bit her lip. “I know. I—feel like a brand new person.” She giggled at her own awkwardness, looking shyly down at her lap.

Cillian's fingers brushed her chin as he tilted her face up. His mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.

“What is it?” She reached up to touch his wrist.

He cleared his throat. “I just—thank you.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me so much.” His thumb traced the line of her jaw. “Last night...this morning...meant a lot to me, but I know it meant even more to you, because of everything you've been through. I know I keep sayin' it, but, Sammi, you're safe with me. You know that, right? You're safe.”

Sammi swallowed hard and smiled as tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

She kissed him.

When she pulled away, the corner of his mouth curved up and he ran a hand through her messy dark hair.

“Gotta go,” he whispered. “See you at the Armory.”

“See you.”

He kissed her lips once more, then left the room.

For a moment Sammi remained in the cloud of bedding, enjoying the pleasant shiver that rippled over her skin, the feeling of safety, security, and something more deep in her belly. Cillian had been gone for a grand total of three minutes, but she already missed him. She wanted to be next to him, against him. She was safe with him.

Sammi finally slid out of bed and showered, then blew her hair dry. She applied some makeup, playing up her warm brown eyes with dark, smoky eyeshadows that made them look huge. When that was done, she padded in her hotel slippers across the carpet to the suitcase on the edge of her bed and pursed her lips.

She packed a couple of dresses, short, clingy things that were cute and sexy, but made her incredibly uncomfortable. It was one thing to wear something like that and know that only Cillian would be seeing her in it—
that
was exciting. But wearing something like that with thousands of other people seeing her in it, including other men hopped up on the adrenaline and aggression of the fighting arena and tons of keg beer—that was terrifying.

Besides, even if it didn't terrify me—that's not my style.

Sammi frowned. It didn't matter what Carl had said to her the day before. It didn't matter that there were bevies of beautiful women out there who were confident enough to pull something like that off, and revel in the attention. It wasn't her.

Instead, she reached for a pair of cropped fuchsia skinny jeans, a white camisole, and a gray blazer. Gray-and-silver faux snakeskin peep-toe heels completed the ensemble and showed off her freshly pedicured toes. Jazz had taken her for the pampering on Thursday, and it had been Sammi's first professional pedicure in a long time. Her feet were pillow-soft, the nails painted a glossy, bright red.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror by the door, tucking her clutch under her arm, and studied her reflection. She looked good—but suddenly a nervous pang went through her gut, her stomach punching her from the inside out.

What exactly am I nervous about?

Sammi shook her hands loosely at her sides, like a swimmer preparing for a meet. It was time to meet Cillian's family in the hotel restaurant for a late lunch—no time to figure out her newest bout of anxiety.

Shake it off, Carnevale.

She made sure the room keycard was in her purse and headed to the elevators, riding them down. Murphy and Melody were seated at a table, and both waved when they saw her.

“Hey!” Melody greeted with a smile. “You look cute.”

Melody was wearing a cocktail dress and heels.
I should have worn the damn dress.
“Thanks. So do you. I love that dress.” Sammi took a seat next to her.

The waiter came over right away, as though waiting for Sammi to appear so he could take their order. Melody ordered a Caesar salad and a cup of soup, and Murphy ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries. Sammi wavered.

“For you, miss?”

“I'll have the same as the gentleman,” Sammi replied, grinning when Murphy winked at her.

“You're so lucky.” Melody cast an envious look at her. “I wish I could eat stuff like that and be in shape.”

“Oh, no.” Sammi patted her stomach. “I've been trying to eat healthier lately. I used to dance for hours a day, every day, so I didn't worry about what I ate, but...that's not the case anymore.” She chuckled. “Actually, Cillian's been helping me eat healthier. He's been on such a strict diet the past couple months.”

Murphy nodded. “All that hard work's gonna pay off this weekend.”

Sammi studied the older man as he sipped his water and glanced around, a smile on his face. He was clearly excited for the tournament, happy to be there to share the moment with his son.

He has no idea what Carl is up to.

Sammi's penchant for word-vomit bubbled in her throat, so she grabbed her own water glass and took a healthy swig before she blurted it all out. She felt guilty sitting there with his family, knowing what was happening, knowing how much was actually riding on Cillian's win.

The server reappeared with their plates. Sammi stared down at her burger; it looked perfectly cooked, oozing cheese, the fries hot and crispy, but her appetite vanished. She poked a fry into a puddle of ketchup and nibbled on the tip.

“You seem nervous,” Murphy said.

Sammi cleared her throat. “Yeah, I guess, a little. He's never done this before. I just—I want him to do well.”