a hickey that branded the mark of his mouth on the nape of it. I loved the feeling and arched back and rubbed my butt against him. He filled his hands with my ample breasts in the fuzzy red hand-me-down cashmere sweater Mrs. Williams had passed on.
“I want you so bad. I can’t believe how much I want you,” Sam said. I realized, as his hands roamed my fully clothed body and he pulled my ass back to rub against his erection, that our bodies were kindling like sticks making a fire and this was the first time we’d ever touched each other indoors.
Shellie opened the door a few minutes later to find us making out on the couch. Sam’s hands were under my sweater and mine were all over his naked, magnificent torso as I straddled his lap, and our lips were locked. She retreated with a squeal, yelling, “Sam, you’re supposed to be going! Dad’s waiting in the car!”
Sam took his hands out and squeezed the rounds of my breasts affectionately through the fuzzy sweater, and said, “We have a date. For lots more dates. And more of this kind of thing, too. At spring break.”
My beard-rasped neck and cheeks burned from his touch. My eyes were glazed. I nodded robotically and said, “Uh-huh. Okay.”
And he was gone, with one last pat on my ass and tweak of my long red hair.
I sat back on the couch and lifted the necklace from the collar of the sweater, dangling the sparkling heart from a finger in front of my eyes.
“Wow,” I said. The platinum shone with the fire of real diamonds. I’d never had such a nice piece of jewelry before.
I rode the train back to Boston with Shellie, feeling more conflicted than ever the minute I was out of Sam’s presence. What am I doing? All this romance stuff was horribly distracting from my studies, and I still had to deal with Henry, whom I really did like and knew I would miss. Were Sam and I a thing, after such a brief Christmas fling or whatever it was? Enough to break it off with Henry? And what the hell was I going to do about Rafe’s invitation to San Francisco?
I needed to come clean with Shellie and get her advice.
I told her about Rafe finally and showed her the necklace from Sam. “And, oh God, I have to deal with Henry,” I moaned.
“Oh, to have your problems,” Shellie said.
I immediately felt bad for my selfishness. Shellie was adorable, a petite, stocky female version of Sam, with the same tawny brown-blond locks and bright brown eyes. She’d been dating, but nothing serious so far, and hadn’t been a virgin since she was sixteen and did it with her then-boyfriend in high school.
“This situation’s not that great, trust me. Very stressful. Rafe wants to see me this summer in San Francisco. Offered to pay my way out to California.”
Shellie pooh-pooh ed. “Who is this guy? A surfer, sailor, drifter? A handyman? Sam’s going to be a lawyer, like you, and the two of you get along great and have chemistry. Even Henry’s got more going on as a boyfriend—he’s going to be a psychologist. Kick Rafe to the curb. He’s got nothing to offer.”
Not a handyman, a Renaissance man.
There wasn’t anything Rafe couldn’t do if he set his mind and hands to it. Nothing to offer? Nothing but those amazing blue eyes, those hard, capable hands, that incredible promise of the pleasure he was able to give me, a fire he’d woken and could stoke with just a look, a touch, the sound of his voice, and those heartfelt letters I couldn’t bear to tell Shellie about.
The letters were too intimate, too raw.
And Henry? He was sweet, and gentle, and his devotion, his quiet support, the way he sang me songs and read me poetry and even the way he worshipped my body—all of that was reassuring. I could handle Henry so much better than either of the others.
And then there was Sam. Big, bold, confident, playful Sam who made me laugh.
“You’re right,” I said. “Sam’s amazing. What I can’t believe is that he really seems to like me.” I shook my head. “Talk
“I want you so bad. I can’t believe how much I want you,” Sam said. I realized, as his hands roamed my fully clothed body and he pulled my ass back to rub against his erection, that our bodies were kindling like sticks making a fire and this was the first time we’d ever touched each other indoors.
Shellie opened the door a few minutes later to find us making out on the couch. Sam’s hands were under my sweater and mine were all over his naked, magnificent torso as I straddled his lap, and our lips were locked. She retreated with a squeal, yelling, “Sam, you’re supposed to be going! Dad’s waiting in the car!”
Sam took his hands out and squeezed the rounds of my breasts affectionately through the fuzzy sweater, and said, “We have a date. For lots more dates. And more of this kind of thing, too. At spring break.”
My beard-rasped neck and cheeks burned from his touch. My eyes were glazed. I nodded robotically and said, “Uh-huh. Okay.”
And he was gone, with one last pat on my ass and tweak of my long red hair.
I sat back on the couch and lifted the necklace from the collar of the sweater, dangling the sparkling heart from a finger in front of my eyes.
“Wow,” I said. The platinum shone with the fire of real diamonds. I’d never had such a nice piece of jewelry before.
I rode the train back to Boston with Shellie, feeling more conflicted than ever the minute I was out of Sam’s presence. What am I doing? All this romance stuff was horribly distracting from my studies, and I still had to deal with Henry, whom I really did like and knew I would miss. Were Sam and I a thing, after such a brief Christmas fling or whatever it was? Enough to break it off with Henry? And what the hell was I going to do about Rafe’s invitation to San Francisco?
I needed to come clean with Shellie and get her advice.
I told her about Rafe finally and showed her the necklace from Sam. “And, oh God, I have to deal with Henry,” I moaned.
“Oh, to have your problems,” Shellie said.
I immediately felt bad for my selfishness. Shellie was adorable, a petite, stocky female version of Sam, with the same tawny brown-blond locks and bright brown eyes. She’d been dating, but nothing serious so far, and hadn’t been a virgin since she was sixteen and did it with her then-boyfriend in high school.
“This situation’s not that great, trust me. Very stressful. Rafe wants to see me this summer in San Francisco. Offered to pay my way out to California.”
Shellie pooh-pooh ed. “Who is this guy? A surfer, sailor, drifter? A handyman? Sam’s going to be a lawyer, like you, and the two of you get along great and have chemistry. Even Henry’s got more going on as a boyfriend—he’s going to be a psychologist. Kick Rafe to the curb. He’s got nothing to offer.”
Not a handyman, a Renaissance man.
There wasn’t anything Rafe couldn’t do if he set his mind and hands to it. Nothing to offer? Nothing but those amazing blue eyes, those hard, capable hands, that incredible promise of the pleasure he was able to give me, a fire he’d woken and could stoke with just a look, a touch, the sound of his voice, and those heartfelt letters I couldn’t bear to tell Shellie about.
The letters were too intimate, too raw.
And Henry? He was sweet, and gentle, and his devotion, his quiet support, the way he sang me songs and read me poetry and even the way he worshipped my body—all of that was reassuring. I could handle Henry so much better than either of the others.
And then there was Sam. Big, bold, confident, playful Sam who made me laugh.
“You’re right,” I said. “Sam’s amazing. What I can’t believe is that he really seems to like me.” I shook my head. “Talk
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