Wake for Me (Life or Death Series) (28 page)

“Maybe I have,” he said, with a slightly embarrassed smile. “But in my defense, you did leave them behind in 714. And I get really bored on shift when I don’t have you to talk to.”

Delighted by this very shocking turn of events, Viola wrapped her arm around Sam’s neck. “Well, I guess you’re going to have your way with me, then.”

In response, Sam nuzzled her neck, lightly grazing her with his teeth.

Oh yeah. Definitely wrong about nice boys.

Viola shivered with anticipation, but she wouldn’t dream of letting him know he’d finally gained the upper hand. Tilting her head, she ran her tongue over his bottom lip. “And here, I thought I was going to finally have my way with you.”

“No reason why we can’t take turns.” When he spoke into her mouth like that, Sam’s deep voice seemed to vibrate all the way down her spine. “I’ll go first.”

“Okay.” Arching her back, Viola pressed herself against him, biting her lip to keep from whimpering desperately. She’d never been a patient person, but this…this was getting unbearable. “Can we start now…or are you still savoring the moment?”

Sliding his hands down to grab her more firmly, Sam straightened his back and carried her easily down the hall to his room. Dropping her gently on his bed, he pulled away and knelt in front of her, letting his eyes explore her. Viola loved the look on his face, as if he was cataloguing her body in order of which parts he wanted to sample first. She chuckled, feeling slightly giddy all of a sudden. Maybe there was something to the whole ‘sexy nerd’ myth, after all.

“I am serious about one thing,” he said, running a finger slowly across her stomach. Curious, Viola followed his gaze to the ugly scar on her belly. Damn, she’d almost forgotten that was there. “If I’m too rough on you, or if anything starts to hurt, I want you to tell me.”

“Of course, doctor.” She smiled, feeling a little self-conscious now as she arranged herself on her side, with a corner of blanket covering her from navel to hip. “As long as you promise to do the same. Unlike you, though, I make no promises to stop when you cry ‘uncle’.”

The moment she said the phrase aloud, an image of a snarling wolf popped into Viola’s head. She angrily pushed it away. Whoever said that being turned on was like an off-switch for the female brain was a goddamn liar. It was beyond messed up that she would be thinking of Uncle Jack at a time like this.

But then, that was the thing about obsession. And revenge.

“You know,” she said, in an attempt to distract herself, “Freud said that the way people have sex is pretty much the way they do everything in life. And no pressure, but I already know you had a 4.0 all through med school, and that you were a marathon swimmer. So….”

“Well, I’m starting to think that you only stop talking when you’re unconscious, so this should be interesting.” Softening his dig with a smile, Sam reached down and pulled his shirt off.

Viola gasped, reaching up to run her hands over his washboard abs. “Oh my God, where have you been hiding these?”

It was official. The more she saw of Sam Philips in the flesh, the more pathetically lacking her subconscious mind’s dream version of him seemed.

“Please, do me a favor, and never wear a shirt again. I’m serious. Not ever.”

Shaking his head, Sam lowered himself over her, arm muscles straining against his perfectly smooth skin. “I don’t think people would take me seriously as a doctor, if I went around shirtless all the time.” He ran his lips over her shoulder, before following the slant of her clavicle downward. “Besides, if it was allowed, Brady would’ve already tried it.”

“Oh, yuck! Never mention that again!” Viola laughed and squeezed her eyes shut—both to block out the visual of a shirtless Dr. Brady, and also to focus more sharply on the things Sam was doing to her with his mouth. But soon enough, she opened them again, because she wanted to get the full five senses-surround experience. Running her hands through his hair, and then over his impressively ripped shoulders, she promptly forgot what she’d been laughing about.

In fact, there was nothing left in her head but sensations, and four letter words…like
need
.

“Oh God, Sam….”

“Say it.”

Viola opened her eyes, realizing that somehow, at some point, he’d managed to shed the rest of his clothes and put a condom on. Talented, and stealthy. And still not inside her. What in the actual hell?

“Say…what?”

“Tell me what you really want, Viola.”
Sam hovered above her, green eyes cloudy, jaw clenched with restraint. There was even a thin sheen of perspiration on his skin.

“I want….” Her eyes looked down to where she wanted their bodies to meet…and widened.
Sacré bleu
. He was even bigger than she’d imagined. Perfect, in every way. Her core tightened in anticipation, slick with need.

“I want you, Sam. All of you. Right now.”

It seemed that was all he needed to hear, before finally…completely…losing control. He didn’t even let her catch her breath, before ramming into her, hard enough to slam the headboard of his bed against the wall. It should’ve been uncomfortable, even painful, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was like a lightning bolt of pleasure, shooting through her core. Viola dug her fingers into his back, holding on for dear life, preparing for a wild ride that would probably be over all too quickly.

But instead of setting a pace like a jackhammer, Sam pulled back slowly, so slowly. Because of his height, it should’ve been impossible for him to look her in the eye when their bodies were still joined, but he did it. The way he was looking at her, somehow it felt more intimate, more penetrating, than anything else he could’ve done.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he drove into her again. And again, and again. Like waves crashing against the shore during high tide, each motion built upon the pleasure of the last, hitting harder and lasting longer.

By itself, the sensation of Sam literally rocking her world should’ve been enough to drive her slightly insane. But when combined with the look in his eyes, and the way it made her heart race, Viola knew she was in trouble. The serious, permanent kind of trouble she’d been trying to stay away from her entire life.

It was too much, too soon. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing as hard as she could on the physical connection, trying to block out the rest. But that only made it worse, because with her eyes closed, the rest of her senses were heightened. The feeling of his skin, warm and soft and rough at the same time…his clean, summery smell…and most familiar of all, the sound of his voice, reassuring and challenging her at the same time.

“Viola, open your eyes. Come on, look at me.”

At his words, a memory broke away and floated to the surface. Sam’s face, floating above her, frustratingly out of focus. She’d been waiting for so long to be here in this moment. With him. Why in the world would she want to miss a single detail?

Following his whispered command, Viola opened her eyes. But she couldn’t stop herself from lashing out with her tongue in self-defense, because he was dangerously close to figuring out how much power he had over her. How much she cared about him.

“God,
someone’s
bossy in bed. Maybe you should—” But then Sam rotated his hips in a different way, and Viola had to bite down on her lip to keep from screaming.

Sam’s smile was more dangerous than ever. “Maybe I should…
what
? Slow down?”

Unlike her, he didn’t even look winded.
Damn him
. When had she handed over the upper hand? Since when was he so in control of…everything? Including her.
Especially
her.

That wasn’t going to fly. Hooking her leg around his, Viola tried to nudge him over with her hip. At least if she was on top, she’d be able to make him suffer just as much as she was.

But instead of rolling over and letting her take control, Sam grabbed her by the wrists, stretching them gently over her head to wrap her hands around his headboard. He covered her fingers with his much larger ones, effectively trapping her. When she made a sound of protest, he only smiled wider.

“Sorry, but it’s still my turn.”

Viola pretended to pout, but it was obvious she’d lost the upper hand. And deep down, if she was being honest with herself, she kind of loved it. Especially when Sam bent down to kiss her, then started the rhythm all over again. Only this time, he really put his back into it.

The first climax took Viola by surprise, crashing into her like a tidal wave and pounding through her so thoroughly she almost forgot how to breathe. Even then, he didn’t relent.

And holy hell, but Freud was right about one thing: Sam really knew his way around the human body. And his endurance was legendary.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“When a love-relationship is at its height there is no room left for any interest in the environment; a pair of lovers are sufficient to themselves.” –Sigmund Freud

Sam woke up in waves, feeling his senses turn on one by one.

The first thing he felt was the weight of a body pressed against his side.
Next, his world expanded to include the sound of breathing, and the soft flutter of breath against his neck. Keeping his eyes closed for the moment, just in case, he tightened his arms around the soft bundle of warmth and inhaled deeply. Lavender soap, and something sweet. It was definitely her. But was this moment definitely real?

Please, God, he silently prayed. Let it be real.

Opening his eyes carefully—because the yellow light coming through the blinds seemed suddenly and god-awfully bright—he squinted down at the girl in his arms.

Viola was sleeping with her face squished against his bare shoulder, her mouth hanging slightly open. Her hair had dried into a bird’s nest of unruly curls. Every time she exhaled, she sounded like a tiny, female Darth Vader. She might have even been drooling a little.

Sam had never seen anything more beautiful.

Unable to help himself, he traced the side of her face with his free hand, burying his fingers in her curls. He’d never seen her hair this messy. Even when she’d been in a coma, the nurses had treated her like their own life-size Barbie Doll, brushing her hair and styling her curls to fall artfully across her pillow. He tried to run his fingers through them now, but the soft strands were tangled together as stubbornly as a web of thorns.

With a startlingly loud snort, Viola woke up.

“Ouch,” she whined, with an adorable, sleepy pout. “That hurts.”

“Sorry, baby,” Sam apologized, kissing the top of her head as he moved his hand to her neck. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Mmm.” She snuggled closer and moved her hand from his chest toward his hip, where other things were waking up. “Now, you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

A long while later, now both fully awake and once again fully exhausted, they were lying on the floor when Viola’s stomach gave a loud growl.

“Oh my God,” Sam said, sitting up. “I can’t believe I still haven’t fed you!”

Viola laughed and rolled onto her back, no longer self-conscious about her scar since Sam had spent the last five or so hours convincing her to forget about it by lavishing attention on other, more important body parts.

“What am I, your pet goldfish? I can feed myself, Sam.”

“Still.” He leaned back against his mattress, which was several inches off the bed frame and missing all of its sheets by then. “I spent like an hour this morning making you this really huge, really impressive breakfast. And now it’s,” he looked over his shoulder at the nightstand, where the clock was hanging off one side by its cord. “Almost two o’ clock. It’s past breakfast time, and besides, we can’t eat eggs that have been sitting out for that long.”

“You made me eggs?” Smiling sassily, Viola made the ‘aww’ sound that girls made when something was adorable. “Like, from scratch?”

“Shut up,” he laughed, reaching over to grab her foot. “You would’ve thought it was awesome.”

“So what do we do now? If I don’t get fed, I start to turn evil.”

Sam gave Viola his best poker face. “And that’s different than usual, because…?”

As he’d planned, the taunt made her mouth fall open at his audacity, and she promptly attacked him. It ended much better than the first time at the hospital, though, because there weren’t any surly psych techs around to interrupt them. Also, she was naked.

“Hey,” Sam said, after another half an hour had gone by, and they’d seriously reorganized the inside of his closet. “I have an idea. Let’s grab some food really quick, and then I want to take you somewhere. Did you buy a swimsuit?”

“Actually—yes,” she said, looking at him strangely. “But only because it seemed like a good way to make people think I was leaving the country. Why would I need one here? It’s freezing outside.”

Sam smiled, pushing her hair back from her face as he kissed her again. He would never get tired of the way her lips fit so perfectly against his. Twenty minutes ago, Viola had caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the inside of his closet door, and had stopped kissing him to yell at him for not warning her that she looked like a crazy bag lady. He’d kissed her a little more fiercely in answer, and she’d forgotten once again to care what she looked like.

Finally, after weeks of being afraid that he’d somehow broken Viola, Sam was beginning to understand that in her own way, she was already kind of broken—and so was he. So was everyone. Because tragic fate—or twisted luck, or whatever you wanted to call it—had brought them together, they were getting the chance to fit their broken pieces together into something new that felt completely whole and right. Something much better than their original, seperate selves.

And, sweet Jesus, he was starting to wax poetic. He was so totally screwed.

He liked it.

***

On the way to the Y, Sam had driven his car through a McDonald’s for burgers and a chicken nugget Happy Meal, because secretly, he wanted to see if Viola would deign to eat such base, common food. After Viola had gotten offended, and then treated Sam to a ten-minute lecture on the fact that she’d spent her childhood in France—and did he know that they had McDonald’s in Paris? They had one on the Champs-Elysées, for crying out loud!—he’d finally surrendered, apologized, made out with her in the YMCA parking lot for another twenty minutes, and then offered his fries as tribute to further appease her wrath.