I’m breathless. The only two things I can hear are his voice and the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins. My whole world is focused on his words. And his hand, as it rises ever higher on my thigh.
I feel the backs of his fingers graze the edge of my shorts. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
I can’t answer. My mouth is too dry and some unidentified emotion is lodged in my throat. But I can shake my head. And I do. I shake my head in denial of my fear, even though it’s a lie. He does scare me. More than he could ever imagine.
“Then it probably won’t scare you when I tell you I want to kiss you right here.” His fingers fall to the inside of my thigh, where my legs are pressed together. Reflexively, I clamp them together harder. “But it might scare you when I tell you that your resistance makes me want to…press the issue.” His fingers slip beneath the hem of my shorts. I feel them trace the edge of my panties, moving inexorably closer to my core. “It makes me want to push your legs open until I hear you gasp. It makes me want to hold your struggling body still while I put my tongue inside you. Because I know what I’ll taste. I’ll taste desire. I’ll taste that you wanted me to force you. Just a little. I’ll taste your sweet body as it betrays you. I’ll taste it when it pours out onto my lips. Mmmm,” he purrs into my ear. “Samantha?”
When he doesn’t continue, I whisper my response. “Yes?”
“Your panties are wet.”
Slowly, he pulls his hand from beneath my shorts and straightens in his seat. Within a few seconds of his retreat, the ride slows and another Carnie appears in a pool of light at the end of the tunnel. I look over at Alec. His face is a stony mask.
When the ride stops, Alec helps me out of the car and places his hand at the small of my back to guide me toward the exit.
“Did you enjoy your ride folks?” the Carnie asks when we reach him.
“Very much,” Alec answers.
I look at his face again. And again, I see nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY - Alec
The tangle of damp sheets twisted around my legs wakes me. It takes me a few seconds to clear my head of the remnants of the dream. It was so real, I find myself repeating over and over and over it was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
But it felt so real. Too real. I felt myself turning the corner from erotic pleasure to terror. And it felt just like it did then.
It’s been a long time since I’ve dreamed like this. And it’s not a welcome return. I’m not sure what it means, but I’d be willing to bet it has everything to do with Samantha and how I’m luring her in.
Or is it how she’s luring me in?
Either way, I’m going down a road I know to avoid. I’ve come a long way and going back now is lunacy. And yet here I am, passing all the familiar scenery, traveling the same path again.
I thought I was past this. I thought I was better than this. That I was better period.
But I guess some wounds never heal. Not completely. Just like some ghosts never stop haunting.
It’s a good thing I’ll soon be leaving. This place is bad for me right now.
And so is Samantha Jansen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Samantha
“Til when?” Chris screeches.
“Next Saturday. Sunday at the latest.”
“Sweet mother of hell, that’s an effin’ week!”
“I know, I know. And, trust me, if I could get out of it, I would. But this is part of the business, Chris. You know that. And you know how much I hate it.”
She growls into the phone, but I know she’ll come around. Although we’re not blood related, we’re sisters in all the ways that count, including having each other’s back.
“Fine. But you’re gonna owe me so huge. Like first-born huge.”
“Done!” I shout quickly.
“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”
I know Chris is just teasing, but it makes me feel like she secretly feels as hopeless about my chances of a normal life as I sometimes do.
“That’s encouraging.”
There is absolute silence for about ten seconds. I picture Chris’s eyes wide and her mouth hanging open and the words Oh shit! running through her head on a loop.
“That’s not…I didn’t mean…I wasn’t…”
“It’s all right. I’m just pickin’ on you,” I say lightly, trying to hide just how much her words hurt.
“Sam, I—”
“Hey, before I forget, I’m gonna need some awesome shoes that Laura Drake might wear to an evening function in Portland. Any suggestions?”
Talking shop, which is Chris’s second favorite thing in the world (sex being the first), is always a safe and effective way to change the subject.
“I do actually have the perfect shoe for you, but they go with the perfect dress. Package deal. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
I hesitate. “Nothing too…colorful, I hope.”
“Nothing Laura Drake can’t wear, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Then don’t. You’ll look beautiful.”
“Oh, I don’t think I need to worry about that either.”
“Would you stop doing that?” Chris snaps.
“Stop doing what?”
“Putting yourself down like that.”
“I wasn’t. I was just making a truthful comment. Nothing more.”
“It’s not truthful at all. You are beautiful, whether you see it or not. Everyone else does. How else would you have caught the eye of a hottie like Alec Brand?”
“I still wonder that very same thing.”
“Listen to what he’s not saying. You’ll be able to hear what he thinks of you loud and clear. I did and I’ve only seen you two together for a total of, what, ten minutes?”
“And just what, pray tell, do you think you ‘heard’?”
“All the standard things, of course. You’re hot, I wanna do you, yada yada yada. But I think the most interesting and important thing I picked up was that he thinks you’re different. I think he’s as surprised by you as you are by him.”
Her words make me happy. Too happy. They feel like validation because I, too, sometimes get that feeling. There’s something about the way Alec watches me. It’s like he’s puzzling over me, like he can’t quite figure me out. And I think, for a man like Alec, that’s a good thing. Being too standard and too easy to read would probably bore him. At least I hope so.