“I’m thinking.” He rubs his fingertips together, and I hold my ground. Rushing him wouldn’t be fair. My friends were curious and putting them off longer would begin to look suspicious. I haven’t told them about Sam’s diagnosis because I wanted to avoid any preconceived notions. I also didn’t want to hear the comparison. Sam isn’t the only one nervous about how he’d be received.
“When?”
“Friday at about seven.”
“I’ll be there at seven.”
“Thank you.” I rise up on my knees and duck down to catch his eyes. Moving slowly, I cup his hands. “I know this is a huge deal for you. And I want you to know how much I appreciate you doing it for me.”
He glances away and looks back. “Your family is important to you.”
“So are you. You become more important to me with each day that passes, honestly. My day isn’t complete without our morning and night texts, at least.”
“I text you a lot during the day.”
“I think the way you check up on me throughout the day is sweet, Sam. It makes me feel good to know that you’re thinking about me and that you care. If you did anything that bothers me, I would tell you.”
He swallows hard. Uncertainty fills his gaze.
“You don’t believe me?” I’m shocked by the intense disappointment that rises.
“I dated someone before you for three years. She got upset with me a lot and never explained why. I was always confused about what I did wrong. It was a ...” he pauses, “difficult and unhappy time in my life. I don’t want to repeat that.”
I squeeze his arm. Damn, he’s fit. “We won’t.”
“I tried to please her by purchasing the things she asked for and taking her out to the places she wanted me to. It worked for that moment.” He rocked slightly. This was distressing to him. “Even though she knew it made me uncomfortable. I thought that as what relationships were, compromising to make the other person happy. People often say one thing when they mean another.”
I see the invisible wall erect between us. The picture he’s painting makes my heart and stomach ache. Someone took advantage of him.
“Not me.” I cup the other side of his face and force his eyes to meet mine once more. “I don’t mind working to earn your trust, Sam.”
He hums, refusing to answer.
“Right now, I want to get to know you.” I bite my bottom lip. “And touch you.” I trail my fingers down his face, looping my arms around his neck. “Would that be all right?” I massage the tension from his neck. “Do you like this?” His throat bobs, and I watch the desire darken his espresso-colored eyes to a coal-black. “Am I moving too fast?”
“No.”
I stop.
“No. It’s not too fast,” he clarifies.
Straddling his lap, I move my massage farther down his body to his shoulders, experimenting with touch. He’s at half-mast in my lap. I want to grind down, but I’m afraid it might overwhelm him, and the last thing I want to do is stop. It’s been so long since I touched someone like this and had them touch me in return. He cups my ass, dragging me along his rapidly swelling length. I dig my nails into his back, rocking with him—my core clenches.
“Your pussy is so hot. I can feel it through your tights.”
I moan. “Sam,” I whimper.
“I want to feel how wet you are, Delta. I want to taste you.”
“Have you been thinking about that?” I ask.
“Every day.”
“Did you touch yourself while you thought about me?”
“I thought about gathering all your slick and coating myself with it. How good it’d feel and smell while I stroked my cock.”
The flood gates open in my panties as my clit begins to throb. “Why don’t we turn that daydream into a reality?”