saw him. When it comes to Sam James, there’s no place where my heart can hide.
Chapter 12
I surreptitiously feel the cotton pillowcase beneath my head for evidence of drool. In the movies, women always wake up with perfectly tousled hair, spotless skin and remarkably fresh breath. Of course, reality is a little different. I stretch out my arm, fingertips searching for the strap of my purse that’s lying on the floor next to the bed. I’m hoping there’re a few errant Tic-Tacs lingering in the bottom. Jackpot.
Chewing the mints as quietly as possible, I wet a fingertip on my now fresher tongue and rub beneath each eye, trying to remove any mascara smudges. I hear Sam inhale deeply and turn to see if I’ve woken him. It’s so unfair men look the same the morning after a night of wild sex as they did the night before. The stubble on his face is a little thicker than it was last night, but otherwise he looks like the same sex-pot that talked me out of my bra in the backseat of an old hot-rod.
I tuck his soft blue sheets around my naked body and turn toward him. Sam’s shoulders are beautiful in their masculinity. They’re broad and well developed, his chest and abs equally so. I brush the pads of my fingertips over his sandy-colored chest hair, which is just the right amount of thickness to be sexy. He’s between Gerard Butler and Channing Tatum in the body hair department, which is the perfect balance of brute manliness in my opinion.
I cuddle a little closer to him, seeking out the heat of his body. When we stumbled into his place last night, all thoughts of finding out what had happened between Sam and his ex were quickly discarded. But in the subtle light of morning, I can’t keep my eyes from wandering around his bedroom, looking for clues of his broken heart. The last time I was there, he never really got around to giving me a tour of the place. He was too focused on touring my naked body to show me where he keeps the silverware.
The large cedar bed dominates the room. It’s sturdy under pressure, something I can happily attest to. Matching lamps rest on the night stands on either side of the bed. The nightstand on Sam’s side is taken up by a watch, a glass of water, and a well-worn book. The table on my side is empty save for the lamp. The bedroom’s large window has white linen curtains drawn across it, and swirly finals are mounted to either side to draw the curtains back and allow the light in. A pretty red and blue vase sits squarely in the middle of a chest of drawers and, although it’s not currently holding any flowers, it’s clear by its placement that flowers were meant to adorn the area.
It hits me like a ton of bricks. This room, probably this entire house, was decorated by a woman. I feel a little cheated by this revelation and think of his ex-fiancé and where she may’ve left the Dear John letter that broke Sam’s heart. The mantel in the living room seems a likely place, but my psychic senses are telling me there’s more than meets the eye to that vase on the dresser.
“You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
His voice catches me off-guard, and I jump at the sound. As I look down at him, he brings a hand up to lightly touch my chin and jaw with his fingers. He repositions his head against the pillow, his fingers moving to play with my hair as he waits for me to respond.
I exhale nervously and look down, smiling shyly. “You caught me. I was just admiring your room, actually. I haven’t really had an opportunity to look around your place yet since we’ve been mostly focused on the bed.”
Sam smiles at me and I swear it’s as though I’m on a movie set, he looks so good. “You’re welcome to become acquainted with all the rooms in the house, if you’re so interested,” he says, moving his hand from my hair to lightly touch my neck. His hand moves slowly down until the tips of his fingers rest gently against the swell of my cleavage.
“I might just take you up on that,” I say, placing a light kiss on his lips. Thank the genius that developed breath mints.