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“Oh, God,” I say, rearranging myself onto one of the pillows. “I could just go to sleep after that.”
Sam laughs. “Sleep? We only have one night. I don’t think we can reasonably say that we’re finished yet.” He’s back on the bed, arm draped over my waist. “I did say I was going to have you in every position.”
I put a pillow over my head. “So sleepy.”
“That’s because we forgot to eat,” he says, ducking his head under the pillow with me. “We’ve still got alfredo.”
“It does sound really good.”
“Should I bring it up here?”
Laughing, I shove the pillow in his face. “Trust me, as clumsy as I am, I think you’d regret that decision.” I roll off the bed and take the sheet with me, wrapping it around my body. “You can serve me in the kitchen.”
Sam smirks. “Yes, your highness.”
I make my way down the stairs, trying not to trip on my sheet. But that’s not what nearly sends me tumbling—it’s the sight of a naked Sam walking past me to the kitchen. God, he’s got a great ass. And watching him heat up food for us, completely naked, is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. “Do you ever cook naked?” I ask.
He shoots me a knowing glance. “Sometimes. Though it’s generally not a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Hot things splashing and my cock don’t go well together.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I never thought I’d hear a man admit his cock doesn’t go well with something.”
“It’s the one and only time,” he says, setting a plate of alfredo on the bar in front of me. He perches on the stool next to me with his own plate, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s naked and that I can’t stop looking at him.
We eat in silence for a few minutes because I’m starving and the food is more delicious than anything else. When I start to feel the food hit my stomach, I speak up. “When did you move out here?”
“After college.” he says. “I stayed in my parents’ house through school, and once I graduated I bought this place. Best decision I could have made. I couldn’t wait to get out of that house.”
“I always thought you liked your parents’ house,” I say.
Sam glances at me. “I mean, it’s a nice house. But when you don’t get along with the people inside, it makes it hard. Or rather the one person.”
I know how much Sam—how much all the Logan boys— love their mother. So I can only guess that he means his father. Which is weird because Robert said pretty much the same thing at the engagement party. There’s something going on behind the scenes that I’m not aware of, and given the way Sam’s jaw is clenching, I don’t think I should ask. Not tonight when we’re pretending that some aspects of our lives don’t exist.
I finish my alfredo, and Sam hands me a glass of water. I drink the whole thing in a single gulp. I didn’t notice how thirsty I was. His parents’ house is floating around in my head, along with a question I’ve been wanting to ask. I was so caught up in the moment with him at the party, but thinking about it now I’m wondering if he would have done what he said. “I know this breaks the rules a little bit,” I say, “but I do have a question about the party.”
He raises an eyebrow mid bite, waiting for me to ask.
“Would you actually have kept me quiet with your cock?”
Sam freezes, and I watch as his eyes go dark with lust. There’s no hiding the way he goes hard, cock jutting towards me as if we hadn’t just had sex less than an hour ago. “Yes, I would have,” he says.
My pussy goes liquid, because I can see it in my head. The way we were tangled together and the way he would have been on top of me, feeding his cock to me.
He stands off his stool, and his eyes are even with mine. Naked as he is, he looks all power and strength. My stomach does a little flip when he takes a step toward me. “You would have taken as much of me as you could, and you would have sucked me until I came, and you would have swallowed everything I gave you. And then,” he says, closing the distance between us, echoing where we were just hours ago, “after you’d learned your lesson about keeping quiet, I still would have fucked you.”
I don’t know where my breath has gone, but suddenly I feel like there’s no air in the room. I can see all of it in my mind’s eye, and the confidence, the surety with which he says it, makes me want it. I raise my chin, challenging him. I’m not going to tell him how much that arouses me. “Maybe,” I say. “But you got one thing wrong.”
