He used his free hand to help me release his jeans, before quickly kicking them aside. I reached around to grab him, trying to guide him inside me as I leaned over the counter to give him better access. He held back. “We should go…” he started to object, but I stopped him. “No. Here. Now.”

My three-word command was all the invitation he needed. He plunged into me from behind. I cried out in ecstasy. He paused there, buried to the hilt inside me. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. Don’t stop.” I straightened and wiggled my rear end back at him to get him moving.

He reached both arms around me. One hand expertly tweaked my nipple while the other hand eased over my clit. When he started moving slowly in and out of me, it only took a few strokes for my orgasm to start building. I went flying over the edge when he whispered, “It feels like coming home, Abby,” into my ear. My body convulsed around him until he released, spilling his seed deep inside me.

We stood there like that for a moment, recuperating. Finally, he slid out of me and said, “All of those lonely nights when I stayed up late thinking about you, I pictured myself being a lot more romantic than taking you from behind, standing up in the kitchen, if I ever had the privilege of being with you again.”

His sweet words touched me immensely. Had he really stayed up at night thinking about me? “It was perfect,” I reassured him. He donned his pants as I straightened and tied my ratty robe.

“I can do better, if you’ll give me another shot.” He gave me a wicked, crooked grin.

“Prove it!” I yelled back at him before running up the stairs to my bedroom with him hot on my heels.

17

When we got to my bedroom, I realized that Sam had never been in it before. He took his time perusing every detail, picking up this and that. It felt odd having him in my personal space. He was such a dominant being. My room felt tiny, engulfed by him. I felt silly having him see the sentimental items I kept here.

I tried to remember what Post-It ‘words-of-wisdom’ notes I had left for myself on my bathroom mirror, but it was too late to run in and clear them off. He was going to see the real me in my room – quirks and all. If he didn’t run away screaming, I would consider it a miracle.

“What have we here?” he asked, his voice deep and sexy. I turned quickly to see what he had discovered. He was running his hand lightly over my collection of silk scarves hanging from hooks on the wall.

“When Courtney gives me a gift, it always includes a beautiful scarf.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to explain myself to him.