Knowing he had lost the battle the moment he was fully buried inside Samantha. ‘I can’t! Forgive me, Samantha, but I just can’t take this slowly. Next time. I promise next time,’ he groaned achingly as he held onto her hips as he began to thrust into her.
Sam tightly gripped his shoulders as she rode the fierceness of his lengthy thrusts, her body flooding with desire as she revelled in the intensity of need she could see in Xander’s almost pained expression, his fingers digging into her hips as he pushed hard and deep.
Her eyes widened in shock as she felt a second climax building rapidly inside her. ‘Xander!’ she had time to cry before that climax crested, and then broke with an intensity of pleasure even stronger than the first.
As if that was all he had been waiting for, Xander cried out at his own release thrusting hard and deep as he pulsed hotly inside her.
* * *
What a fool she had been, Sam acknowledged regretfully the following morning as she looked down at the beautiful man sleeping in the bed beside her, knowing there could be no next time for the two of them.
Because no matter what she might have told herself last night when the two of them made love, the reassurance she had given herself to believe she could have casual sex with a man, with Xander, before just as happily walking away, was all nonsense. A lie she had told herself because she had wanted, desired, Xander so very much.
Now she realised not only had she lied to herself about the casual sex, but also about her feelings for Xander.
And those regrets that could come later?
Well, they had come crashing down about her head the moment Sam had been woken at five o’clock this morning, the sun streaming in through the window of his bedroom, because they had forgotten to draw the curtains the evening before.
Sam had felt totally disorientated when she’d first woken up, taking several seconds to get her bearings, before remembering exactly where she was, and then turning sharply to look down at the man sleeping in the bed beside her.
One look at Xander’s beautifully chiselled face relaxed in sleep, and that gloriously tousled blond hair fanned out on the pillow behind him, with only a thin sheet covering the nakedness of his hips and thighs, leaving his muscled chest bare, and Sam had realised she was in love with him.
That somewhere, somehow, during this past week of sharing an apartment with him—of sharing her past with him; of him sharing the horrors of his childhood with her, and the battle he had suffered these past few weeks, fearing he might be like his father; of just being with Xander constantly; of feeling moved by his protectiveness towards her and his kindness to Daisy—Sam had fallen deeply in love with him.
Which was why she was now going to climb quietly and carefully out of his bed, taking care not to disturb or wake him, and go back to her own bedroom.
To consider how she was ever going to face Xander again.
At least she didn’t have to make the walk of shame, and could simply gather up her scattered clothes from the bedroom floor and walk the short way down the hallway in order to reach the relative sanctuary of her bedroom.
No doubt there had been dozens of women between Xander’s bed sheets over the years. Beautiful women. Sophisticated women. Those same beautiful and sophisticated women who could enjoy casual sex with as accomplished a lover as Xander Sterne, before dressing the following morning and walking away without any regrets.
Unfortunately, Sam now knew she wasn’t any of those things.
She wasn’t beautiful, or sophisticated, but worst of all she certainly wasn’t capable of walking away from Xander without regrets.
Any more than she had wanted to see Xander’s disappointment if he should wake up and feel regret at finding her there beside him in his bed.
* * *
Xander felt wonderfully relaxed when he woke up, the warmth of the morning sun shining across his face and closed lids.
Thoroughly relaxed. And wonderfully satiated in a way he could never remember feeling before. Almost as if he— Not almost. He had made love with Samantha.
Xander’s eyes opened wide and he turned sharply to look at the bed beside him, the events of the previous night washing over him in bright and glorious colour.
He sat up abruptly as he saw the bed beside him was empty. As was his bedroom, Samantha’s clothes gone from the carpeted floor. Nor could he hear any sounds coming from the adjoining bathroom, as evidence that Samantha was taking a shower.
The clock on the bedside table read only six o’clock, so where was she?
Gone, came his immediate answer.
Just to her own bedroom, or from his apartment completely?
Even if Samantha regretted what had happened between the two of them—and her disappearing act seemed to imply she did—surely she wouldn’t have woken Daisy up in the middle of the night and just left without saying a word to him? Especially with her ex-husband on the prowl and ready to pounce.
No, Xander was sure Samantha wouldn’t have done that.
But there was no denying she had left his bedroom.
Why?
She’d seemed happy enough the night before, as she had snuggled comfortably in his arms before they both fell into an exhausted sleep.
Damn it. He had been so thoroughly satiated the previous night, so exhausted by their lovemaking after suffering weeks of physical limitations, that he hadn’t even woken when Samantha crept from his bed!
He now ran an agitated hand through his already tousled hair, the tenderness of his scalp reminding him of the way she had tightly gripped his hair when she climaxed a second time as he’d fiercely thrust and pulsed inside her.
Now she had gone, crept from his bed like a thief in the night. As if last night had meant nothing to her. As if he meant nothing to her.
And perhaps he didn’t, Xander realised with a frown, as he recalled their conversation just before they had made love. Their discussion of the problem of her ex-husband, and the way in which he intended dealing with that problem, for both her own and Daisy’s sakes.
Could Samantha have gone to bed with him, made love, out of gratitude for just the thought of that help reaching fruition?
Because he had made it obvious he wanted her, and she hadn’t liked to say no?
* * *
‘Cereal, pancakes, or eggs and bacon?’ Sam prompted briskly as Xander made an appearance in the kitchen doorway just after eight o’clock, her daughter already seated at the breakfast bar eating the last of her pancakes.
It was a grim-faced Xander who looked at her with dark and wary eyes, nothing like the wild and satisfying lover of the night before. Or the relaxed and satiated man Sam had left asleep in bed earlier this morning.
Any more than she looked—or felt—like the uninhibited woman of the night before.
Her cheeks felt warm just thinking of the intimacies the two of them had shared the previous night. ‘Or maybe just your usual coffee?’ she carried on hurriedly as Xander made no reply but just continued to look at her searchingly with those dark and enigmatic eyes.
But searching for what?
Regrets?
Sam had plenty of those!
Rebuke?
She had absolutely nothing to rebuke Xander for, had been a more than willing participant to their lovemaking.
So what was Xander looking for as he gazed at her