Resisting Samantha (Hope Parish Novels Book 10) (15 page)

Dragging my mouth
away from hers, I sucked her nipple into my mouth again, tracing the
taut nub with the tip of my tongue. Her breathing grew ragged and
uneven, and I shifted to the other delicious breast.

A soft sob wrenched
from her, and she cupped the side of my face, her thumb rubbing hard
over my unshaven cheek. My own breathing suddenly ragged, I caught
her around the hips and rolled, drawing her under me. Shifting my
weight so I was anchored deep inside her, I braced my weight on my
elbows, kissing her mouth with a thoroughness that made my own heart
stammer.

I flexed my hips and
she rose up to meet me, tightened her muscles around me, and my mind
clouded with desire.

I was a goner.

There would be no
more resisting Samantha.

SAMANTHA

I woke up suddenly,
sharply awake, my heart pounding, tentacles of fear leaving me cold
and shaking. But it wasn’t that unknown fear that had driven me
out of sleep, it was the anxiety of not knowing how to handle the
situation with Chase.

I was snuggled up
against him, his arm around my shoulder, his big hand in the center
of my back and the other cupping my head. My hands rested against his
chest, every cell aware of the comforting warmth and hardness of his
big, male body, my own breathing synchronized with the even rise and
fall of his chest. It was very early morning. I could still hear the
rain coming down in torrents.

It brought back
yesterday, standing in the street, my chest heaving and my lungs on
fire. After missing my chance, I didn’t know how long I stood
there. Long enough for my breathing to level out and my mind to
clear. Between the trembling and the sick dread, I tried to shut my
mind off.

I’d gone back
to my car, emerging into the full force of the wind-driven rain, the
heavy drops pelting against my face and running down my neck.
Suddenly I remembered that harrowing night and the hate and vengeance
in Kyle Mayhew’s eyes. I started to run.

So much came back to
me after chasing down that car and thinking maybe Kyle Mayhew was in
Suttontowne. It had dredged up everything I thought I’d managed
to come to terms with. But this uneasiness wouldn’t go away. I
knew if this…thing…with Chase was something casual,
something shallow and physical, I wouldn’t be having this panic
attack.

Chase shifted, his
breathing changing for a second, then even again. He must be
dreaming. I absorbed the feel of him against me, my leg between his,
his scratchy stubble and soft lips against my forehead, his breath
feathering my hair.

It would be easy to
just have sex and skip all the anxiety surrounding it. I wondered if
my need to simply lose myself in his heat in the bathroom had caused
my meltdown, or if it had been something deeper, something much more
basic.

But then why had the
trip over here been a jumble of rain and the compelling need to see
him? It wasn’t until I turned onto his gravel road that I
realized I had no recollection of leaving Suttontowne, of passing
Imogene’s, of making the turn onto the secondary paved road.
Nothing. I remembered nothing. Except driving as fast as I dared, and
the feeling of being watched tingling along the back of my neck, one
that hadn’t left me, hovering nearby, ever since I saw
AnnClaire’s ghost.

I shied away from
even thinking about having those kinds of feelings for Chase. I’d
vowed I wouldn’t ever lose my heart the way I had with Jeff,
but Chase was proving to be almost impossible to deny. On some level,
for most of the past two years, I must have realized it would be like
this between us.

His noble actions
still made my heart ache. Denying me in my frantic attempt to get
comfort, he refused to take advantage of me, and maybe I had been
trying to put what we felt for each other on that basic level. But
when he said,
Not
like this, Sam,
his
words and the bleak look in his eyes had done terrible things to my
already raw emotions and driven it home. I was responsible for that
look, and it had upset me. It still upset me.

Chase didn’t
deserve that from me.

He deserved to have
someone who was completely committed, and I just wasn’t sure I
could go down that road. Give him everything, and open myself to
being annihilated again. It also wasn’t fair to keep him in the
dark about it.

I basked in the
comfort of his arms and his breathing for a moment; then, careful not
to disturb him, I eased up on one elbow and looked down at him. I
raked my hair back, a strange kind of protectiveness unfolding in me
as I gazed down at his handsome face, so peaceful in sleep.

Most of his body was
covered, the sheet resting against his ribcage. The dim light he’d
left on in the bathroom illuminated his deeply tanned skin, the
shadow and light defining the hard ridges of muscle across his
shoulders and torso.

The normal tough
angle of his jaw was relaxed, the stubble accentuating his full,
smooth, and oh-so-kissable lips.

Careful not to
disturb him, I sent my fingers feathering through the tawny abundance
of his hair. With a catch in my heart, I thought about how easily
this man anchored me. Absently fingering the silky texture of Chase’s
hair, I glanced over at the window and froze. Had something moved? A
chill tingle sliding down my spine, every sense on full alert, I
stared at the darkened window, the grey and black of the bayou beyond
obscured by the heavy condensation.

Nothing moved, and I
slowly relaxed. God, I was losing it.

I slipped to the
edge of the bed and grabbed my clothes, dressing with a minimum of
noise, not wanting to wake Chase. Moving as silently as possible, I
went to the window and, gathering my courage, looked out.

Nothing moved in the
rain-soaked darkness, and I could see it was just before dawn. I drew
the shades and curtains. Pausing by the bed, I gazed down at him, a
new wave of protectiveness stirring in me. Needing to touch him, I
very carefully drew the sheet over him and trailed the back of my
fingers over his scratchy jaw.

Leaving the bedroom,
I silently closed the door. The house was still and quiet, the faint
tinkle of chimes the only sound besides the wind. I went to my purse
and pulled out my cell. Settling into the comfortable cushions of his
overstuffed slate gray couch, I pressed numbers, the sound of my
phone beeping loudly. I could only hope the beeps wouldn’t wake
Chase, and that the call would go through in spite of the weather.

It connected and
started to ring on the other end.

“Bonneville,
12th Precinct.”

“Theresa? This
is Samantha Wharton.”

“Well, I’ll
be damned. A blast from the past,” she said, her voice filled
with pleasure. “How’s my old partner doing?”

“Pretty well,”
I said, filling in an abbreviated history of what had happened since
I left New York City.

“We wondered,”
she said solemnly. “After a tragedy like yours, it’s best
to make a fresh start.” I squeezed my eyes shut at the sympathy
in her voice.

“You were
there for me, and I’ll never forget that, Theresa. It was…I
needed to get away.”

“I know,
sweetheart, and we understood. I was just concerned about you, and
wondering how you’ve been doing all this time.”

“I appreciate
it, but this isn’t exactly a call to catch up. I need some
information.”

I could feel her
concern through the line. “Is everything all right?”

“No. I think I
saw Kyle Mayhew yesterday.”

“That
sonofabitch is out? When?”

“I was hoping
you could check for me.”

“Sure, hang
on.” I heard some typing, the minutes feeling like hours, and
then she said with a sigh, “Good news. He’s still at
Rikers as of yesterday.”

I sagged in relief.
“I thought so, but I only caught a glimpse of the guy, and I
thought it might be him.”

“Hey, he shot
me, and I have the scar to prove it. He would have killed me if it
wasn’t for you, Sam. I’ll never forget that. You ever
need anything, you let me know.”

A bad case of the
shakes hit me after I hung up, closing my eyes tightly and dropping
my head against the back of the couch. God, I had been so scared. So
damned scared. Determined not to let fear overwhelm me, I made myself
take deep, steadying breaths, making my muscles relax.

“What’s
wrong? What happened?” Chase demanded roughly. He startled me
and my eyes shot open to find him rumpled, frowning, and dressed only
in those sexy, clinging sweatpants.

The weight of him
displaced me slightly as he sat next to me. His worried face was only
inches from mine. He looked ready to do battle. Something gave way
around my heart, and I felt almost too raw to speak. I reached out
and caressed his face.

His jaw relaxed
beneath my touch, and without any warning my eyes filled up.
“Everything is fine. I just called my old partner, and she
confirmed that Kyle is still locked up.” I fought to contain my
tears. “It was a false alarm. I should have just done that
yesterday afternoon and saved you all this drama.”

Chase shifted, then
he cupped my jaw, lifting my face. “I like that you came to me.
You can always come to me, Samantha.”

I looked at him, my
eyes awash with tears, and Chase trailed his knuckles across my
cheek, then brushed at my hair. His expression tender, he curled a
strand around his fingers, then met my gaze. Releasing a long, shaky
sigh, he pulled me onto his lap, gathering me up in a tight,
encompassing hug.

“Thank you for
last night,” I murmured. “I’m sorry about…losing
control. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He released me and
rose. “You didn’t. I just didn’t want you to do
something out of fear and regret it later.”

“No, I
couldn’t regret being with you. It was—”

He set his hands on
his hips. “Amazing and mind-blowing, all rolled into an awesome
ball of soul-shattering pleasure? When can we do it again?”

I laughed, then
sobered.

He opened the
cupboard and took down two mugs, one with a gator on it and the other
with a bass. “Ought-O. She’s laughing at me, and I don’t
really like that face.”

Sensing how exposed
he was right now, and knowing how much he was risking, I rose and
went into the kitchen. Wrapping my arms around him from behind, I
kissed his neck, pressing my weight against him. I didn’t know
why, but the huskiness in his voice made me want to cry. My
connection with him was unique, once in a lifetime, the second time
around. I had to face myself head-on, and if I didn’t let go of
my pain and my fear, I would die inside. If I couldn’t love
again, it would be like dying. But I needed time to regain my
strength, to find the courage to fight for this.

“I want more
with you than I have ever wanted with another man.” I pressed
my face into his back and breathed deeply of his firm, smooth skin. I
could feel the tension in him. “I’m still struggling,
working through all my crap. We’re together. We mutually agree
that we have mind-bending sex, and you love pie. So I have that going
for me. How about we continue along this crazy course?”

The tension left
him, and he turned around to face me. “Where do I sign up for
this rollercoaster of awesome?”

I pointed to my
mouth and he pressed his lips against mine. “Signed, sealed and
delivered,” he whispered.

The sound of someone
on his porch made me stiffen.

“It’s
just the mail,” he said, untangling my hair with gentle
strokes.

“I hope I
didn’t wake you.”

“Nope, the
smell of coffee.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice
when he answered. “See, it’s not just pie you have going
for you.”

I restrained my grin
and feigned outrage. “Hey, I was going to make you a big
breakfast, eggs, pancakes, bacon, but maybe I’ll just give you
cold spaghetti.”

He gave me a slow,
sensual smile that turned my insides to honey, an unmistakable
twinkle in his silver blue eyes. “Okay, she’s a bit
cranky in the morning.” He smoothed his hand up my back,
resting his jaw against my temple. “I can work with that.”
He dropped his mouth to mine, and it was a while before I got started
on that breakfast.

Taking the last bite
of my pancake, I said, “You have a beautiful place here, Chase.
I love the simple, rustic quality of it.”

“Thanks. It’s
comfortable. Speaking of places, did you have a lot of success in
Lafayette?” He was focusing on the weather forecast playing on
the small TV in his kitchen. “Find a bed?”

“I did, and
all the trappings.” I got up and set my plate in the sink and
started to run the water. “The bed is this beautiful dark wood,
with an iron filigreed canopy.” I started to rinse the dishes
and set them in his dishwasher. “I bought mosquito netting to
drape over it. Gives me a bit of that New Orleans vibe.”

“Yeah, ’cause
mosquitoes are so romantic. Oh, baby, that gets me hot.”

His wry tone made me
nudge him. “It’s for effect,” I said.

“It’s
lost on me, babe. I just need a soft place to sleep and preferably a
particular beautiful woman on me, under me, over me…you get
the picture.” He winked and turned off the set.

“You’re
incorrigible.”

He shrugged and
grinned.

“I stumbled
into River’s gallery. She’s very talented. I bought an
amazing painting of hers of the bayou to put over my headboard.”

“Yeah, my
sister has loved painting forever. I’m proud she was able to
finally stand up for herself and go for what she wanted.” He
eyed me as if waiting for the second shoe to drop.

“Oh, all
right,” I said. “She brought up you and me.”

“Shocker. Did
she wear you down, use Chinese water torture? Did you crack?”

I winced.