The walls began to close in on her and she shot up from her kitchen table, grabbed the keys to her motorcycle, and headed out the door. The only place she might find a little escape from her overactive brain was at her favorite little coffee shop downtown. The place screamed with character and the numerous friendly faces would distract her from the one that haunted her most. It took less than five minutes to get to the shop and even less time to order her favorite cup of coffee and find a seat. The moment the warm liquid hit her lips, swirled around on her tongue, and rolled down her throat, she was in heaven. This was what she needed. This was the peace she sought.
If only I could hide away here.
Staring out the window, she spotted Jason’s truck pulling into the parking lot. It didn't surprise her to see it. This was his favorite coffee shop too and working long nights, coffee was a must. What she hadn't anticipated was that the person driving the truck wasn’t Jason, but Daniel.
She was glued to the chair as her eyes drifted over him. In an instant, her heart rose up into her throat. He was even more attractive than she remembered. Damn it, he was a grown man now and he stood just a little over six feet tall. His body was so much more developed now that he was almost thirty and the way his tight jeans hugged his hips had her wishing he'd grown a third eye or had really bad acne. It wasn't fair that he looked so good. It wasn't fair that he was showing up at her favorite coffee shop.
She had no doubt that Jason was to blame. He'd be the only one who could've tracked her down. He’d introduced her to the cafe and he was the one who knew where she would be if she wasn't at home or at work.
Why would he do this to me?
As Daniel stepped inside, he quickly swept his blue gaze around the room until they locked on her. She swallowed hard as he closed the distance between them. Anger welled in her belly.
She didn’t give him a second to say a word, before she blurted out, "What the hell are you doing here?”
He ran his hand through his military-cut, sandy blond hair and admitted without pause, "Jason told me where I could find you."
"Remind me to kick him in the nuts the next time I see him," she muttered.
"You can't keep avoiding me, Sammy."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes at the nickname. No one but Daniel called her that. Most people called her Sam. "The hell I can't." She stood up from the table, the chair scraping loudly over the floor and she shouldered her way past him.
He grabbed her arm. "I want you," he told her and the second those words left his lips, she froze solid, even the air in her lungs ceased to move.
How dare he tell her that now? He had no right to put thoughts like that in her head. Not now. Not after seven years. Frustration overwhelming her, she blinked back the tears that threatened to spill and faced him. "Then you should've thought about that before you left me."
His fingers slipped away. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Are you kidding me?" She huffed out a breath and stormed away from him, fury consuming her.
He was sorry. What a joke.
As she approached her motorcycle, he once again reached for her, but before he could touch her, she spun back to look at him. "You’re a jackass."
"Damn it, Sammy. I want to talk with you. I know I screwed up."
Her jaw quivered as she stared into his eyes, eyes that had once been so familiar, a comfort unlike anything she’d ever known before. "I can't be your crutch, Daniel. I won't do it. I won’t be your familiar fuck."
His mouth hung open for a moment and then closed. His expression was serious. "That's not what I'm asking."
"It's not?" She narrowed her eyes on him. "You sure about that? What could be easier than finding the girl from your past to screw, to use to comfort you until you moved on again?" She clenched her jaw tight. “I wonder, will you even bother to tell me you’re leaving this time or do I get to hear it from Jason again?”
He raised his hands in a non-threatening manner. "Look, you're my brother’s best friend and our paths are bound to keep crossing. The least you can do is talk to me."
Was he fucking kidding? She wanted to throttle him and she was damn close to doing it. Who did he think he was? She didn't owe him a damn thing. Not today. Not ever again.
“Fuck you, Daniel,” she spat, closing the distance between them. “You lost the privilege to talk to me and when I’m ready to give you the time of day, I’ll let you know.” She turned and headed for her motorcycle, slipped her helmet over her head, fired the bike up, and headed home. She needed a shower, a place where she could hide from the world and cry. No one would ever see her cry, especially Daniel Whitmore.
Daniel sat on his motorcycle and waited for Sam to come home. He’d been sitting in her driveway for at least thirty minutes. Catching her before she disappeared into her house had been his plan, but as he sat waiting for her, glancing at his watch periodically, he realized she might be avoiding him. It would serve him right if she spent the night at one of her friends’ house.
How could he possibly expect her to take him at his word? He needed to prove himself to her, had to show her just how serious he was about getting to know her again.
After an hour of waiting, he assumed she wasn’t coming and just as he was about to fire up the engine of his motorcycle, he saw her front door open slightly.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. She was already home. Had she wanted to see how long he would wait to see her? How desperate he was?
He chuckled as he moved off his bike and headed toward the door. As he approached, he didn’t hear anything. No television, radio, nothing. Slowly, he pushed open the door and was greeted by darkness.
“Sammy?” he called out, hoping she was home and he wasn’t about walk inside her house uninvited. How would he explain that the door just opened by itself? “Are you here?”
“Close the door,” she said huskily and his gaze darted to the location her voice had come from. She was sitting on the sofa in the dark. In an instant, panic swelled inside him. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied softly, but he didn’t believe her.
How could he? Sam was a confrontational woman. If something bothered her, pissed her off, she dealt with it, head on.
Right now, squinting at her through the softening darkness, he could sense that something wasn’t right. Swallowing down his unease, he closed the door, locked it, and moved around the room to be closer to her. “Why are you sitting in here alone?”
“I—I was thinking.”
She patted the sofa with a gentle hand. “Sit down, Daniel.”
Without thinking, he did as she demanded. “Is this going to be one of those times where you tell me I can stay as long as I don’t talk?”
The silhouette of her body was coming into view, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Her hair was down, hanging around her face and her eyes were on him. “That depends on you,” she whispered.
She was confusing the hell out of him. Was he supposed to talk? Did she want him there? Was this her way of freaking him out? If so, her plan was working. “Sammy, I don’t know what’s going on, but I—”
She crawled toward him and without another word spoken, she straddled his lap and began frantically kissing him, possessing him. Her lips and hands were all over him, pulling at his clothing, stripping him bare in seconds. Her need for him was insatiable and he swore he was dreaming.
Of course he was dreaming, she wasn’t wearing anything, her naked flesh was a feast for his hands and mouth. Surely, he was still sitting on his motorcycle and he’d fallen asleep waiting for her to come home. Any second now, he would wake from the captivating fantasy. But he didn’t. Instead he heard the tearing of foil paper. He opened his eyes to see her roll a condom over his shaft. She gripped his cock and guided it to her entrance, sliding down until she was seated to the hilt.
“Oh, damn,” he rasped, the weight of her body coming down on his lap in a rhythm that was fast and fierce. “Sammy, look at me.” She had her eyes closed and he could see the dampness on her cheeks. His heart dropped, and in that second, he gripped her hips to steady her. “Baby, stop.”
She whimpered, falling against him. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her close. “What’s wrong? Are you … is this my fault?”
She sniffled, turning her face so that her cheek rested on his shoulder. “Of course it’s your fault, dumb ass.”
He smiled through the unsettling emotions crushing him. “If I’d known that being with me hurt you so much, I never would—”
“You’re an idiot,” she barked, interrupting him. “I’m hurt that you left me. I’m confused that you’re back. I’m pissed that I want you. I’m a fucking mess.”
At least he wasn’t the only one. He cupped her face in his hands, weaving his fingers through the loose strands of her hair. “But you’re incredibly gorgeous when you’re a mess.”
Staring at him for a moment, she finally smiled. “You always could make me smile.”
“Give me a chance. I’ll do more than that.”
She trailed her fingers over the ridge of muscles on his shoulders and chest, her finger circling the bullet hole that had nearly killed him. “You could’ve at least let me finish, you know?” She stared down at their joined bodies. “I was trying to work out some of my frustration.”
“Is that what you were doing?” He grinned. “Wiggle a bit. I bet you could get me hard in seconds.”
As she rolled her hips, he traced his hands up over her hips and waist to massage her breasts. Her nipples beaded against the palms of his hands. Leaning forwarded, he suckled her gently. “I’ve missed the feel of your nipples on my tongue,” he muttered, his mouth pressed to her flesh. “I could taste you for hours on end.”
He thrust upward, his cock hard once again. “No more conversation, Sammy. Just work out whatever you want on me.” He spread his arms on the sofa, offering himself up to her. “Do whatever you wish.”
She bucked her hips. “I intend to,” she told him, thrusting forward in a quickening manner. “I want you to fuck me, Daniel. I want you to make me come.”
He gripped her hips, tossing her off him and onto her back on the sofa. Coming up between her legs, he shoved his cock inside her pussy. “I can do that,” he gritted out. “I can do that all night.”
“Good,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck. “I’m very frustrated.”
He placed her knees over his shoulders, plowing into the depths of her body. “Not for long,” he told her, drilling harder, faster.
She cried out. This was the position she enjoyed most. The one that would send her straight into oblivion. He’d pictured fucking her this way every day for seven years and even when he’d taken another lover, it was Sammy’s face he saw. She had always been the love of his life and he was going to prove himself to her, no matter how long it took.