him. I can’t stop the moan that escapes my throat when I feel his excitement against my inner thigh.
The noise seems to bring him to his senses and he breaks the kiss and moves his hands back to my hips, firmly holding me in place and halting my ability to move against him. I drop back to flat feet and compel my eyes to open, to look at him, but his eyes are closed against some internal turmoil.
“Ellie, girl. You’re driving me crazy,” he says, pressing his forehead against mine.
“It’s not me. It’s the whiskey.”
Sam gives a shaky laugh and opens his eyes. “Remind me to send Clara a gift basket then.” He’s looking at me with such affection, it terrifies me.
I listen for them, my psychic alarm bells, but all I can hear is the chirping of the crickets and Sam’s heavy breathing. I can’t think clearly when he’s holding me so sweetly, and I don’t care. Right now all I want to do is sacrifice myself to Clara’s voodoo magic and let Sam James have his way with me.
I move in and steal another kiss from his compliant lips. He doesn’t close his eyes but fixes me instead with a furtive look. “What now?”
I take a breath, steeling myself. “I want to finish our dance, back at your place.”
His gaze drops again to my lips and he gives a little grunt that makes my shoeless feet curl. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me off the dirt dance floor, around the dingy bar and back to the front of the building to his bike. He removes the spare helmet from the saddlebag and steals a kiss of his own before strapping it beneath my chin. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.
Hell no, I’m not sure, but I can always blame it on the whiskey. I offer Sam a smile I hope is as alluring as the one I envision Clara giving out to her lovers, and he smiles back at me. I hop on the bike behind him and don’t bother to tuck the folds of my dress beneath my thighs. If the rest of the night goes according to plan, my shoes won’t be the only article of clothing I’ll be losing.
The ride to Sam’s place is fast. Starship Enterprise fast. I can’t stop my mind from undressing him, imagining what he’ll look like under the creamy leather of his biker’s jacket. Sam glides the bike onto his driveway and jumps off the moment the kickstand meets pavement. He pulls off his helmet before turning to help me unfasten mine. As soon as I’m free of it, he reclaims my mouth in a bruising kiss.
“That was the longest damn ride I’ve ever taken,” he says against my mouth. He tears himself away from me and pulls me along behind him toward his front door.
I wait as he uses his free hand to fish a key from his pocket and maneuver it into the lock. Before the door’s even open, he turns around and pulls me solidly against him, reluctant to go too long without feeling my lips pressed against his. We stumble through the doorway and he finally releases me, divesting himself of his jacket as I turn to take stock of his house. It’s a true reflection of him. The furniture is made of solid wood and supple leather. Frames hanging on the wall display pictures of Sam as a young boy, Sam with his family, and Sam with his friends.
He offers his hand to me, inviting me to come with him, to trust him, and I hesitate only a moment before taking it. He leads me down a short hallway and into his bedroom. His bed is made, which I admit surprises me a little. But there’s not much about Sam that hasn’t surprised me these last few weeks.
Sam drops my hand and places his hands on my hips, turning me toward him. His lips find mine again and he kisses me gently, his tongue brushing against my mouth. He pulls his head away and keeps his eyes on me as he walks us backward. His hands remain steady at my waist, holding me close to him. The backs of my knees hit the bed and he bends down to kiss me slowly, soundly. After a minute I break the kiss and lower myself onto the mattress, scooting back to make room for him to join me.