It was a kiss fraught with promises. Tangled tongues, desperate lips. When Aidan reached for the hem of her shirt, she lifted her arms, helped him draw it over her head. He unsnapped her bra and pulled her up higher in his lap, so she straddled him, as his mouth latched onto her breasts.
Oh, his mouth. It was magic. Gently suckling and tugging. Then more firmly, as she felt the evidence of his excitement against her thigh.
“Wait,” she whispered, pulling back from him.
He released her nipple with a wet sound, hooded eyes flicking up to hers.Why?his gaze asked.
She slid down to the floor, between his split legs, and reached for his belt.
“Shit,” he whispered.
He tangled his hands in her hair when she took him into her mouth. She let her eyes wander across him. The clenched jaw, the head pressed back against the chair, his hips struggling to keep still. She drew him deep and pulled back, teasing at the head of his cock with her tongue. A slow stroke. And repeat. Repeat.
He forced her back before he came. “Stop,” he gasped, tearing at his sweatshirt, yanking it over his head.
Sam sat back on her heels, trying not to smile at his clumsy efforts to get naked. The humor faded, though, by the time he’d ditched his boots and was nothing but tattooed skin in front of her. She bit her lip, fighting a sudden, stupid rush of tears.
His two rivers, his roses, his Lean Dogs’ mementos. His stupid drunk tattoos – Foghorn Leghorn, for one. And his new ink, two names, in a blank space above his heart:Sam.Lainie. His powerful muscles, and his scars, and his sweet dark eyes that had seen too much. Hers. All hers.
He saw that she was crying and hit his knees in front of her. “What, baby?” He caught her face in his hands. “What?”
She sucked in a breath. “I thought I loved you when I was sixteen,” she said, voice quivering. “But I had no idea….I had no idea. I love you so much.”
He kissed her again, eased her back onto the carpet. His skin was hot against her, salt-smelling, vital and thrumming with his pulse, his energy.
She lifted her hips as he stripped off her jeans. He mounted her. And then he was inside her. A deep, hard thrust that brought him to the very heart of her, joining them in a way that was painful and exquisite.
“Samantha.”
She speared her fingers through his hair, held his face above hers.
“Do you want more babies?” His voice was straining with waiting, holding still deep inside her. “Babies that are ours?”
“We already have a baby,” she whispered through her tears. “But I want more.”
He dropped his head and started to move, murmuring sweet, hot things against her throat.
Sometimes, she reflected, it wasn’t as simple as getting the boy. Sometimes it was as difficult, painful, and wonderful as getting the man.
Epilogue
“Y’all say ‘Masters Grads’!” Maggie called, holding up her camera.
Ava and Sam stood shoulder to shoulder in their black caps and gowns, arms thrown around one another. “Masters Grads!” they shouted, and the flash went off with a blinding flare of light.
Aidan hoisted Lainie up higher against his shoulder. “Mama’s a lot smarter than me,” he told his little girl. “You should always ask her for advice, and not me.”
Beside him, Mercy snorted. “Lazy-ass.”
“Nah. Just practical.”
“Me too,” Ghost added. “You know what your problem is?” he said, looking to Mercy. “You’ve got two boys. You need a daughter. See how practical you get then.”
The Cajun shrugged, grinning. “Bring it. I’m ready.”
Ghost groaned. “Shit. She isn’t…?”
“Five weeks.”
