Sam walked into the kitchen, shirtless, a ladder of hard muscles rising from the waistband of his jeans. He picked up the bottle of wine and looked at the label. “I’m usual y a beer guy.” He reached into a cupboard and pul ed out a glass. “But I’m going to save you the shame of drinking alone.”
She wished he’d saved her the shame of shoving her hand down his pants. She drained her glass and held it toward him for a refil . He dipped his head, and his blue eyes looked into hers. “Are you mad about what I said?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t heard anything beyond the rush of blood leaving her brain and her own voice yel ing his name. Thank God Conner hadn’t woken up. “What did you say?”
“If you don’t remember, forget it.” He looked a little relieved and fil ed her glass. “If you’re not mad, why is your face al red?”
She put a hand on her hot cheek. “The wine.”
“Does wine make you frown?” He poured the Cabernet into his own glass. “Do you want me to apologize?”
If he had to ask that, he wouldn’t mean it anyway. And besides, an apology from Sam would be so unexpected, she just might pass out. “No. I’m not mad.”
“Then what are you?” He set the bottle on the counter and took a drink.
“Mostly, I’m embarrassed by my spectacular loss of control.”
He lowered the glass and smiled. “It was spectacular.”
She shook her head and fought the urge to smack him. “Do you know how many times I’ve told myself that you were the last person on the face the earth that I would ever have sex with?”
One corner of his mouth turned downward. “I’m guessing a few.”
“More than a few. Do you know how many times I told myself that I would never have sex with you again, even if it meant saving my own life?” She took a drink. “Just a month ago, if given the choice between having sex with you and getting hit by a truck, I would have taken the truck.”
“Yeah, I think you mentioned something like that a few times in the past five years.” He spread his arms wide. “And yet you chose me and spectacular sex.”
“I meant my loss of control was spectacular.”
“The sex was spectacular.” He raised a finger off his glass and pointed at her. “You came twice.”
She shrugged and turned her face away before her cheeks caught fire. “It had been a while.”
“How long?”
“Never mind.”
His finger on her hot cheek turned her face toward him. “A few months?”
“Drop it.” She took a drink. Maybe if she got drunk enough, she’d think the whole thing was funny. There probably wasn’t enough booze in the world for that, though.
“A year?” At her silence his brows shot up his forehead. “A year and a half?”
“I’m a mother. I work and take care of Conner. When I have time without him, I get a pedicure.”
“A foot rub is no substitute for good sex.”
“Depends on the quality of the foot rub. Some people are good at it. Others just can’t get the good spots.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He chuckled. “How long since someone rubbed your good spots?”
“Real y long.” She moved into the living room, and said over her shoulder, “I have a son. Your son. Remember?”
He fol owed and stood next to her in front of the windows. Waves crashed just beyond the sea grass, and she felt rather than saw him raise his glass to his lips.
“Looks like the storm might be letting up,” she pointed out.
“Two years?”