Page 65 of One Last Gift

She jumped at the sound of Sam coming back into the room, and turned to face him. He held up a sheet. “All I could find,” he said, with a little smile. “Maybe they’re redoing the spare bedding too.”

“Oh,” Cassie said. Why couldn’t she think of anything to say? Why couldn’t she stop looking at him, for God’s sake? Why couldn’t she stop thinking of his chest, as he’d come out of the bathroom?

“It’s OK. It’s warm enough tonight and I’ll use the cushions as a pillow.” He hovered in the doorway of the kitchen. Waiting for something, she thought. He waved a hand in the direction of the living room. “Well, ah, I’ll just go and set up, then. So, good night?”

Cassie burst out laughing. She couldn’t help herself. The tension—bottled within her and dancing between them—bubbled over, so that she couldn’t stop.

Sam frowned at her. “What?”

She pressed her lips together to stem the laughter—the whole ridiculousness of it. “Sam. It’s, like, nine p.m. or something.”

His lips twitched into that crooked smile. “Well past bedtime for me.”

She laughed again, shook her head.

He took a step toward her, into the kitchen, still holding that sheet. “Do you, err, want another glass of wine or something?”

Their gazes locked, and she felt her heart thud. She listened to it, waited. Then she took a deep breath, stepped toward him so that they met in the middle of the room. She knew what she was doing. Knew that this could only go so far. And knowing that—well, it meant she was safe this time around, didn’t it? “No,” she said, her voice calm, certain. “I don’t want another glass of wine.” She closed the distance between them, tugged the sheet from his hands and tilted her head up to keep her eyes on his.

He reached out and brushed her hair back from her face, leaving pinpricks of warmth behind. She didn’t need to say anything, didn’t need to explain. For better or worse, they’d always been able to read each other. “Are you sure?” His eyes were so damn intense, and she felt like she might explode if she didn’t do something about the little space that remained between them soon.

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

And then he was kissing her again, and she dropped the sheet on the floor where they stood, her hands needing to be free so that they could touch him. She ran them up under his shirt, and felt that glorious toned muscle beneath. She felt his hands mirror hers, sliding up underneath her top, her skin turning to fire where he touched her. And Jesus, this. No one else had ever made her feel this.

He moved his mouth to her neck, she groaned softly at the light scrape of his teeth. He brought his lips back to hers, his hands traveling up her back, and wherever he touched, her skin throbbed. More. Her whole body was sparking, alive, and she needed more of it.

As if he’d sensed it, as if he’d heard her somehow, he deepened the kiss, pulled her even closer, and she felt the heat shoot to her core. He said her name softly, almost like an oath, then in one movement moved his hips to hers and literally plucked her off her feet. It made her laugh, a little breathlessly, even as she hitched her legs around his waist, even as she used the change in angle to press closer to him. For a moment they stopped, looking at each other, their faces close. The look in his eyes was enough to make her nerves a shivering mess.

Then he grinned, and leaned forward to take her bottom lip between his teeth. And when she groaned softly, he carried her to the bedroom.

Chapter Thirty-One

Cassie woke curled next to Sam, his tanned, muscled arm around her, his breathing heavy, chest rising and falling. She stayed still, biting her lip, not sure what to do. This was Sam lying next to her in bed. And they were both naked. Which had felt great last night, when she was caught up in the moment, but now…

How was she supposed to play this? Casual and breezy—is that what he’d expect? Was this just another one-night stand to him—had he been off sleeping with multiple women in New York, since Jessica? Jessica. It gave her a jolt to think of her. He was supposed to be getting married to her, less than four months ago, and now here she was, sleeping with him. And before Jessica, he’d been all too happy to take various women back to his place—she’d watched it happen, watched the girls fall at his feet. She tried to push that aside. It wasn’t fair, to judge him for that now—she’d wanted to sleep with him, hadn’t she? It had been her decision. And it had been…well, amazing. Intense, passionate, toe-curling, the lot. The type of sex you only ever dream about. Or that she did, anyway. Maybe Sam had that kind of sex all the time. No, she told herself. Stop that.

But she wasn’t sure she could pull off casual and breezy, and she couldn’t lie, say she had to leave for work so that she could get out of here and figure out what to do, because they were on the bloody edge of the world right now with nowhere to go.

She edged away from him, figuring she’d go to the bathroom, make herself pretty at least, and see if she could hunt down some coffee or something. But his arm tightened around her. “Where are you going?” he grumbled, his voice all sexy and husky from sleep. “Come back.”

She laughed, and it dispelled some of the awkwardness. He pulled her to him, kissed her neck softly, and she felt the same tingles from last night travel down the side of her body, right to her toes. He kissed her again, squeezed her arm, then murmured, “I’ll be back.” He got up, and she tried not to watch as he threw some clothes on. It was almost a shame to see him dressed—he really was something, naked.

When he was out of the room, she pulled a pajama top on then popped to the bathroom, quickly brushing her teeth and checking herself in the mirror. When she clambered back into bed, she got her phone off the bedside table so she’d have something to distract herself with while she waited for him to come back.

She unlocked it, read a WhatsApp from Hazel. Where are you?? Did you stay for an extra night? Did you stay alone??

Feeling her lips tug into a smile, Cassie sent a message back. You’re not going to believe me, so I’ll just have to tell you in person. I’ll be back later today. I think.

Nooooo. The suspense is killing me!

Cassie grinned, then sobered when she clocked the time, feeling her stomach flip. She needed to ring Robert—she was supposed to be at work in an hour.

Sam reappeared in the doorway, hair disheveled, holding a tray of coffee, toast, and scrambled eggs. Cassie looked at the tray, blinked, then looked at Sam and smiled. “I don’t think anyone has brought me breakfast in bed before,” she admitted. And he looked so cute, all rumpled, trying to be domestic. Something tightened in her chest and she felt a slight tingle of panic. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—go down that road, couldn’t let herself start feeling that way about him, not again.

“Good, that means you have nothing to compare it to—if you did, I’m not sure I’d come out on top.” He brought the tray over, set it down between them on the bed. He glanced at the phone in her hand. “Just do it,” he advised. “You’ll feel better once it’s over and done with.” Well, of course he knew what she was thinking.

Knowing she wouldn’t enjoy breakfast while her stomach was a ball of anxiety, Cassie dialed Robert’s direct line. “Robert?” she said when he answered. “It’s Cassie. I’m really sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make it in today. I’m not feeling well.”