Page 89 of The Spirit of Love
“Fenny?” Sam uses both hands to rub his eyes, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Is that really you?”
“Just an excellent body double,” I say, waving clumsily with my other hand now because the demonic choreographer controlling my body isn’t done laughing at me yet.
Sam bounds down the stairs toward me, stopping tantalizing inches away.
“Not possible,” he says, crossing his arms over absolutely stunning pectoral muscles. “Your body can’t be replicated.”
Which is rich coming from this shirtless Adonis. I allow my eyes to trail down Sam’s bare chest. It’s the oddest time to wonder about Jude’s bare chest, which I didn’t get to see last night. I wonder if I ever will.
“Wow,” Sam says. “It’s good to see you.”
“It is?” I blink, stunned, snapped back into the present moment by Sam’s unabashed honesty. “Even with the weird attempt to flee just now?”
“I’ll let that slide.” He grins as his eyes run over my face, my hair, my body. It’s warm outside, but goosebumps dot my skin. “What are you doing here?”
“I—well—”
I came because a man I kissed last night suggested it—
I came to sort through my feelings for you and my feelings for someone else I might be falling for in a big way—
I came because, once upon a time, you and I shared something bone-deep and blissful in this cabin, on that beach. At least, I think we did. It’s getting harder to remember clearly.
I came because I need your help figuring out my life. And I’m hoping you can mind-read, too, because I’ve never been as good as you at saying the true things out loud.
“I’m sorry,” Sam says. “Maybe that came out wrong. I meant to sound amazed and grateful. Not to put you on the spot.”
He runs his hand through his hair in that way that he does. It reminds me of what his hair feels like, sun-warmed and silky.
The chemistry between us is real and very much alive. Two minutes together is long enough for me to know I want all ofSam back all at once. I want as many inches of his skin against mine as is physically possible. I want the heat of his breath in my ear. I want his strong hands on my hips, rooting me to him. I want his laughter echoing through canyons on a zip line. I want his cold-water gasp, and his softest kiss, and his burnt toast, and his whisperedStay forever.
And I wish we could skip the need for explanation because this weekend already feels too short, but Sam’s looking at me as if there are things he needs to say.
“I didn’t think I’d get another chance,” he says.
“Isn’t there always another chance?”
“That seems too good to be true,” he says. “Do you know how many times I’ve relived that day we said goodbye?”
I shake my head, surprised. “How many?”
“I must have fantasized a hundred ways it could have gone differently, Fenny. I’ve just been so…stuck. What tears me up, ever since then, is that you might have left without knowing…”
He trails off, licks his bottom lip, and looks away.
“What?” I whisper, letting the tips of my fingers brush the tips of Sam’s. A tingling spark trips up my hand, my arm, then all the way into my core. I meet his eyes and melt as his fingers gently drag up my arms. Soon he’s holding me by the elbows, his hold firm, but his hands so soft.
“I didn’t know how to find you.” His voice is lower, a little raspy. I tip up my face and see him haloed by the sun.
“I’m here now.”
“You’re here now,” he says, amazed. “How long can you stay?”
Logistics and Sam don’t go together, so even though I’ve got a tight two and a half days left, I cast aside reality. “A while.”
“I want to kiss you,” he says.
“We could see if it still works?” I rise on my toes and press my lips to his, feeling the synergy between us swell with heat. Sam moans, or I moan. His hands on my back are such a vast, deep turn-on that I’d go to bed with Jude right now.
