“Like you can talk, Roberts. You go pansy faced whenever your girl sends you a text.”
His eyes widen slightly before he shakes his head at me, but not before I miss the slight blush of his cheeks. “Anyway, we eating or what?” he asked before heading toward the break room. I chuckle as I follow behind him.
I place the flowers in a cup of water so that they’ll last my shift, then put the food on the table and grab my cell from my pocket with the intention of sending a short, sweet text to say thank you.
Me: Hey, it’s Sam. I’m guessing the early morning lunch and flower delivery was from you?
Sean: Good guess, Samantha. I want to see you again. We need to clear up last night’s miscommunication.
Me: No need. Thank you for the lunch and flowers, they’re beautiful. Totally unnecessary.
Sean: Nothing is unnecessary when it comes to you. Let me know when I can see you again.
Holy f**k! I couldn’t respond to that. If there was such a thing as being stunned text-less, that was me.
Sean texts me every night, asking how my day was and reminiscing about specific events in our past. It’s disconcerting and thrilling at the same time, like traveling on a roller coaster through time but knowing that the only direction this could go is down, but I can’t help myself. It has been nice to reconnect with him. He has asked me to meet with him again, but I’ve been a coward, continuing to offer up excuses as to why I can’t see him again.
Texting seems less threatening than a phone call. Don’t get me wrong, I still totally overanalyze his words and the meaning behind them and agonize over my replies, but it is getting easier. I’m trying to quell the feelings for him that I sense are resurfacing. Honestly, I don’t know that I can be the woman he wants, not full time anyway. I admitted to myself a long time ago that although I’m sexually submissive, I’m not into the hardcore kinky shit. I like being restrained, controlled, used by the man I’m with, but it needs to be in the right moment and with the right man. Tanner is not that man, and neither were the few one night stands I’ve had since Sean.
Remember I said he’d ruined me for other men?
Despite his Saturday delivery last week, and our text conversations since, I’m still the same coward who can’t admit she was and is still wrong. It’s always been my biggest fault, and with Sean I have more than just the date and my behavior during it to apologize for. How do you say, “Oh, by the way, I’m sorry I f**ked up first time around and ruined something f**king awesome between us. Forgive me?”
If only it were that easy.
Chapter 12: “Me & My Jealousy”
Sean
I’ve found myself at the Chicago Police Memorial Foundation’s annual fundraising dinner, representing my firm as a last minute favor for my boss. I haven’t brought a date. With more notice, I would have considered asking Samantha, but I know I need to tread lightly with her. Last week’s date showed me that I need to be smart in the way I approach her if I want her back in my life … and my bed.
I’ve had a lot of time to reflect this week on what is missing from my life. Apart from Mac, I haven’t wanted a woman for more than a night or two since Sammy, and seeing her again has made me realize that she is the reason why. But in order for me to be sure that she wants to be with me too, she will need to be the one to come to me. I can’t force her; I can’t make her want to be with me again, but for my peace of mind and for the sake of saving both of us a repeat of the past, she needs to be sure.
That’s not to say I can’t help her make her mind up though.
My life seems to be un-complicating itself. Well, mainly the part of my life that involves Ryan. He moved back to his apartment earlier this week and has promised to contact both the therapist and Gamblers Anonymous. This time I’m hoping he’s been scared into getting help. There is still the matter of his debt to the bookie who roughed him up in the club, but that is one debt I refuse to settle. But if any trouble is made for myself or my club, I promise there will be hell to pay.
I’m sitting at a table with a bunch of old law school buddies of mine when I see her. There may be a lot of beautiful women here, but none of them compare to the sunshine-haired beauty as she walks into the room on the arm of a man who looks like he wants to eat her. I struggle to stifle the growl that rumbles in my chest. My lips tighten, my fists instinctively tightening on the table in front of me. She’d told me about Tanner, her casual, not serious f**k buddy, and all indications are that her escort is one and the same. My first instinct is to rip his hands off her; the very thought of any man that isn’t me touching her vexes me. I watch with a cold glare as they approach a table with two vacant chairs, smiling at another tall, blond man and his attractive partner who I note has the most striking red hair I have ever seen. He stands and gives Samantha a hug before shaking hands with Tanner and inviting them to sit down. Once Samantha takes her seat—which I’ll add, Tanner did NOT pull out for her as a gentleman should—he sits down and drapes his arm possessively along the back of her chair. I subconsciously grind my teeth in frustration. If there was ever a moment to see green, this was it.
In short, I’m jealous as f**k.
What I ought to do is walk up to her right now and sweep her off her feet, taking her from the room and back to my bed, where she belongs. But I distract myself with the conversation at the table, sneaking glances in her direction every now and then.
Until the moment that the key note speaker steps up onto the stage and talks about all the big donors for the night, one of which is my firm. I look over to her table and lock eyes with her. The look on her face goes from wide-eyed shock to confusion, to something resembling embarrassment as her cheeks go pink and she sits up straight, noticeably shifting away from her date. I smirk and her eyes narrow as she realizes that I’ve obviously been watching her for a while. I nod a silent hello before shifting my attention back to the speaker, not looking back at her for the duration of the speech.
It’s not until after the dinner, when the band starts playing and couples start congregating on the dance floor, that I decide it’s time to make my next move. Waiting until Tanner is engaged in what looks like deep conversation with the man next to him, I stand and move toward Samantha’s table.
“Samantha, what a surprise to see you again.” I purposefully pause to take in how breathtaking she looks in close quarters. She’s wearing a demurely sexy, black V-neck dress. Standing above her I get a glimpse of a black lace bra that has my dick twitching in anticipation of seeing more, but I try to calm my thoughts and clear my head, focusing on the end game—getting my girl back.