CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
She was all over him even before they were through the door of his North End apartment, tugging at his tie and pulling at his belt buckle. “Paige, hold on,” Sam said, kicking the door closed with his foot.
“What’s the problem?” she asked, covering his mouth with her own.
“Can we just slow down for half a sec?”
“What for?” Paige asked. She didn’t want to slow down. Slowing down meant time to think, and thinking was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn’t want to think about what had happened. She didn’t want to think about what she was doing now. She didn’t want to think about anything. “Help me out here,” she said, pulling Sam’s jacket away from his shoulders and trying to push it down his arms. “That’s better,” she said, as it fell to the floor. Her fingers went immediately to the buttons of his shirt. “I’ve always liked a man in a pink shirt,” she muttered between kisses to his neck, trying to generate some sort of a response.
“Paige,” he said, stilling her fingers with his own. Not exactly the response she’d been hoping for.
“What’s the matter? Why are we stopping?”
“I’m just not sure…”
“Not sure about what?” Paige asked. “Don’t you want me?”
“Of course I want you.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” She reached down and grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head and letting it drop to her feet. She kicked it aside, standing before him in her lacy, peach-colored underwear. “Your turn,” she said.
“Can we at least go into the bedroom?”
“Sure. Whatever,” Paige said, confused by his seeming reticence. “Lead the way,” she said, although she was the one taking his hand and navigating her way in the dark between the sofa and a wing chair into the hallway.
“That’s my boys’ room,” he said, stopping her when she tried entering the first of the two bedrooms.
“They’re not in there, are they?” she asked playfully.
“No, of course not. They’re with their mother this week.”
“So, are we okay now?” she asked, trying to laugh as they reached his room. What was the matter with him? Why was he acting so weird? She reached behind her to unhook her bra, tossing it aside as they stumbled toward his bed. She grabbed his hand, placing it firmly on her now bare right breast. God, was she going to have to do everything? “Kiss me,” she instructed, starting to lose patience.
He kissed her, but it was more a kiss of desperation than passion. On their previous dates, she’d loved the way he kissed—soft, tender, just the right amount of tongue. Now there was no tongue at all, just an unsatisfying mashing of his lips against hers, his mouth parting just enough for their front teeth to grind together.
She dropped to her knees, discarding his belt and pulling down both his pants and his underwear in one fell swoop, surrounding him with her mouth, trying to coax his limp penis into action.Come on,she thought.Come on.And then she felt his hand on the top of her head, his fingers taking hold of her hair, pulling her away.
“Paige, stop,” he said.
“What? Why?”
“It’s not going to work.”
She stared up at him through the darkness. “Why the hell not?” Anger mixed with humiliation. “What’s your problem?”
“What’syours?” he countered.
“Mine?”Really?“I’m not the one with the problem here.”
“I think you are.”
“Then I think you’d better tell me what it is, because I don’t have a clue.”
“Okay, listen,” he said, pulling up his pants and turning on the bedside lamp, bathing the small room in a soothing amber glow. He sank down on the bed’s beige comforter, causing it to billow out around him.
“I’m listening.” Paige looked around for her dress before realizing she’d left it on the living room floor. She settled for her bra, snapping it back into place and pacing back and forth in front of him.
“Why don’t you sit down.” He patted the space beside him.