Page 92 of Never Forget
His weight settled over me and I reached for him again, pulling him closer, wanting him nearer than he already was. He laughed, quiet against my ear.
"In a hurry tonight?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
He kissed me before I could say anything else. His mouth moved down my throat, across my collarbone, to the warm hollow between my breasts where my heart was hammering. His hand found the waistband of my jeans. His fingers slipped underneath, slow and deliberate, and I made a sound I couldn't have held back even if I'd tried.
"Sam."
"I know."
He undressed me the rest of the way, and then himself, and when he came back to me skin against skin I pulled him close and didn't let go.
He took his time kissing my shoulder, my ribs, the soft place at the inside of my thigh. By the time his mouth came back to mine I was shaking.
When he finally moved against me I gasped into his mouth. His forehead came to mine. His hand found mine. Lacing our fingers together against the pillow, holding me there. I held on, and everything else in my head went quiet.
The rhythm he set was slow. It always was at first. I wanted faster, wanted closer, wanted him to match the urgency I'd walked into the room with. He read it in the way my hips rose to meet his and gave me what I was asking for, and the slow broke open into something steadier and harder, and I said his name in a voice I didn't quite recognize.
"I've got you," he said quietly against my ear.
I didn't know I was crying until he kissed the corner of my eye.
We came apart together with his mouth on mine, my hand still in his, my whole body shaking under him and his arm tight around my back.
He didn't move right away. He stayed where he was, his forehead against mine, both of us breathing too hard to speak. His thumb traced slow circles along the back of my hand.
I kept my eyes closed.
For the first time all day, there was nothing in my head at all. No SLED. No Morrison. No kitchen table. No decision I'd made that morning. Just Sam's breath against my face and the weight of him and the quiet after.
I let myself have it.
He kissed me once, soft, and rolled onto his side of the bed. We were both still trying to catch our breath. The ceiling fan turned in slow, lazy circles above us and the room was warm and quiet, and for a long minute neither of us said anything.
Then Sam laughed. Low, a little ragged.
"What did I do right today?"
I turned my head to look at him.
He was on his back, one arm behind his head, a grin starting at the corner of his mouth. His hair was a mess. His eyes were on the ceiling. He looked like a man who had just been handed something he hadn't known he wanted.
"Nothing," I said.
"Nothing?"
"Just missed you."
He turned his head, and looked at me.
Something softer moved across his face.
"Yeah?"
He reached over and pulled me back against his side, and I let him, tucking my head against his shoulder. His arm settled around me. My hand found its place on his chest over his heart.
