The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,51

the main ballroom, I straightened up with a laugh. “Worked like a charm.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you wanted to leave, but we really do have to get to work in the morning.”

“This is fine with me,” I told him honestly.

We hailed a cab to drive us back to my apartment. We were strangely silent on the drive. Not uncomfortable, but just…silent. As if whatever was said next would cause a ripple, and neither of us was willing to be the first one to dip our toe in the water.

Finally, we stopped outside of my place. I paid the cab, and Sam followed me out.

“Oh, you can take this one if you want,” I told him.

He shrugged. “Nah. I’ll just take the subway.”

“Are you sure? In that suit?” I reached forward and ran a hand down the front of the tuxedo. It was perfection.

“Oh yeah. I guess I didn’t think about that,” he said with a laugh. He didn’t pull back from my hand. “Not used to clothes this nice. I can grab an Uber or something.”

“All right.” I hesitated on the threshold to my apartment building. I’d had just enough to drink to feel bold. My hand was still on his suit. I should pull it back. I should walk away. I didn’t. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Were you jealous tonight?” I whispered, looking up at him with a flush on my pale cheeks.

He froze at the words. And I thought I’d pushed him too far. Asked the wrong question in the middle of our fine evening. But I couldn’t get Court’s words out of my head.

“Yes,” he said in surrender.

“Because I was talking to other guys?”

He nodded once. My fingers curled in on his suit. I shouldn’t. Bad Lark would. She would drag him inside right then and there. But I couldn’t. I had to resist.

“Why?” I asked, forcing my fingers to release his suit and fall back to my side.

“You know why.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that I do.”

He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it. I didn’t think he’d answer at all. He’d just turn around and walk away. But he didn’t.

Instead, his hands came to my hips. Those long, callous dug into the silk of my dress. A peep escaped me at the feel of him touching me. Really touching me. Like he hadn’t done in so, so long.

I could barely think, let alone speak, as he walked me two steps backward. My back hit the brick wall of my building. My chest heaved as I glanced up into those depthless eyes. And I saw my mirror in them. Our bodies were pressed tight together. The scrape of the brick against my back was the only thing that reminded me that this wasn’t a dream.

“Sam,” I breathed. Not sure if I was telling him to stop or not.

But he didn’t say a word. Not one. As his lips crashed down onto mine.

I gasped in shock and want and desperation. So much need. My lips parted. His tongue devoured. And every movement, every touch, said, Yes, yes, yes. He tasted like whiskey and smelled like leather and new books and fresh soap. He was pure eroticism to my starved body.

My hands buried into his dark hair, dragging him closer, kissing him harder. Tasting him, wanting him, needing him. Our bodies knew this dance. We’d performed it many, many times back in Madison. It was like remembered choreography, achingly familiar and full of passion.

Then, the world crashed back down on me.

I brought my hands down to his chest and pushed him back from me. Just an inch. Just enough to breathe.

“I can’t,” I gasped out. “I can’t. It’s not…it’s not fair.”

Sam dropped his head backward. A sigh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes as if he was in pain. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

Then he looked at me again. And there was something else there. “Claire and I broke up.”

I froze. “Excuse me? When…when did this happen?”

“You remember when I passed you in the elevator, going to Court’s place?”

My mind reeled before it caught up. “That was weeks ago!”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. “Is this why you’ve been acting so strangely at work?”

“Yes. I wasn’t in a great place after it happened. She went on tour in Europe for twelve weeks and broke up with me the night before she left.”

“Fuck,” I said. “Harsh.”

“Yeah. And then…I don’t know. I didn’t…want you to be a rebound. And then it sounded insane