"What are you worrying about now?" she asks, her voice tender, not annoyed.
"Everything." I slump forward, my elbows on the table, and cradle my forehead in my palms. "I'm sorry, Sam. I've been selfish, and I've led you to believe we could have a real relationship. But I don't get what I want. My duty is to Mithoria. I need to go home and resign myself to what I've always known I'd need to do, eventually."
"You're leaving? But it's not even Christmas yet."
"If I stay, it will just make it harder when I finally go."
Her fingers crook into my thigh. "But I'm not ready to say goodbye. Please, Ben, stay through Christmas."
I don't want to leave her yet either, but I should do it. Shouldn't I? Knowing what the right thing is has gotten so much harder since I met her.
"Sorry," I say, sitting up straight. "I'm ruining our date, aren't I? Let's forget about all that for now and have a good time, like we were doing before I decided to whinge about my life."
"I've been assuming 'whinge' means to complain."
"Yes. And I've been doing too much of that."
She squeezes my thigh. "No, you haven't. But I agree we should focus on enjoying the holidays and let the rest work itself out." She holds out her hand like she wants to shake mine. "Deal?"
I slip my palm into hers. "Deal."
We finish our meal, telling each other more stories, and we keep talking while we enjoy dessert. Every time I look at Sam in that dress, I want to make love to her. Not just shag her, though I love doing that too. I want to make love to her in the truest sense of the term and show her how much she means to me. Because, while I've been watching her reactions to my stories, and the way her face lights up when she talks about her family, I realized something vital.
I'm falling in love with her.
But it's much too soon to tell her that. I think. Do women want men to declare their feelings the instant they realize the truth? Not sure. I've never been adept at puzzling out what women want. With Sam, though, it's different. She's different. I want to share my realization with her, but I can't help worrying she might think I'm insane. We met a week ago, after all.
So, I think I'll wait to tell her.
After dessert, we take one more spin around the dance floor before we head back to the cabin that's become a boarding house for wayward Lockharts. I love them all, but the house does seem rather crowded these days. And yes, I desperately want to get a leg over with Sam, but we both agree it's not the right time. I don't share my revelation with her, so she has no idea I want to get her naked so I can express my feelings for her in the only way I know how to do that without cocking it up. The last time I tried to tell a girl how much I liked her, I wound up spilling a plate of spaghetti and meatballs all over her lap.
Maybe I haven't always been suave with the ladies, like Nick Hunter or Reese Dixon, but I've done well enough. I've never tried to tell a woman I'm falling for her, though, and I think that's why I can't talk myself into doing that.
We crawl into bed together and fall asleep quickly, exhausted in the best way from our big night out as an official couple. I love sleeping with Sam, holding her in my arms while we both drift off, and especially the bit where I wake up in the morning to find her body sprawled half on top of me and her hair tickling my chin. I just lie here for a long time—half an hour, according to the old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand—because I can't bear to disturb her when she's sleeping. I love the little smile on her lips. It makes me wonder what she's dreaming about, but I won't wake her even to find out the answer.
When she finally rouses, she rolls onto her back and stretches her entire body, while a loud yawn splits her mouth open. She flips onto her side again to drape an arm across my chest. "Morning, Ben."
"Good morning, Sam. Sleep well?"
"Mm-hm." She glides her hand across my chest, swirling her fingers around my nipple. "Maybe we could have stealth sex. I'm feeling so deprived."
"Stealth sex? Am I meant to become invisible?"
"No. Just quiet."
I palm her arse. "You're the one who screams my name."
"There's also the issue of the bed creaking. Maybe if we do it in the shower…"
A laugh bursts out of me. "The shower? The bathroom door has no lock, and the last time I took a shower, your brother waltzed into the room and started brushing his teeth."
"The shower stall is frosted glass. He couldn't see anything."
"Still, I think we should hold off on any kind of sex until we have more privacy." I give her arse a squeeze. "Can't control myself when I'm with you."
"Okay, we'll wait."
Not too long, though. I need to feel her body wrapped around my cock soon, or I'll go insane.