Stay for Me (7 page)

He let a breath out, ready to say what
needed to be said, once and for all.

“The movies?”
Sam resisted
the urge to run a finger down along the piece of long bang hanging there near
her cheek. He had to focus. “We’ve been to the movies a million times together.
It doesn’t hurt to go to the movies. At the end of the night, you know the
question isn’t whether we would have a fun time. The answer is yes, Emma.
You’re my best friend. We like the same music and rival football teams to keep
it fun.
Perfect, right?
You cook, I eat. Every month,
we come this close to adopting a dog. We both know
,
these aren’t the questions we need answered right now.”

****

“I know. You’re right.” Should she
remind him? Add the first thing that had popped into her mind as he read off
his list? What was the point of holding back now? “My family loves you. Mom
lives to feed you mashed potatoes and stuffing every year. You forgot to add
that.”

Barely, just barely,
the
corner of his mouth turned up into the hint of a grin before he became
serious-faced again.

“All this stuff we’re so great at…that’s
not what needs to be proved, is it?” she asked, knowing the answer.

His beautiful, cropped head fell into
his hands and when he looked back
up,
she could see
just how serious he was taking this.

She found her courage in the unsaid bond
that showed through just then in those grey-green eyes of his. “Could we be
lovers?” she asked, putting all the cards on the table. “That’s what you need
to know.”

Her limbs felt like dead weight but her
heart beat like a race horse. At least talking about them kept her mind off of
hurtful Luka and what he’d done in here.
In that chair.

Finally, Sam answered, although he
seemed only to be able to get a few words out at best. His massive chest rose
and fell, showing all its strength, all his heart. Steadily, he breathed deep
and long. It caused her to do the same. “Not me.
We,
” he said.

He meant it. Every tiny word he’d just
let out was huge. He was right.

“We,” she amended. Her stomach flipped
in anticipation of what that one word answer would mean.

Could it be that they’d just given up on
it way too quick the first time around?

She remembered the burning, tearing
sensation as he’d tried, softly as he could, to push inside her. Emma nearly
bit the side of her tongue as her mind brought back her scream and the way he’d
gone stone cold and statue-like, hovering above her. Her welcome home gift had
shattered.

Just then she heard a couple of soft
raps at the door before it opened.

Gabe.

“Hey, Gabe,” she said hearing the
distraction in her voice.

“Hey, little mama,” he said quietly then
looked to Sam. “Hey, man.”

“Oh, the
laundry.
Or your briefs.
It was something, right? I’m supposed
to be helping you with something. Sorry,” she said in his direction, wishing
Sam wasn’t in here completely naked.

“Actually, I’ve got the laundry. And I
can sew my own booty pants. Just wanted to let you know Donovan made an
invitation during his last number. So, um, you’ll want to be finishing up in
here. I’d say fifty minutes, tops.”

Sam just looked on. Emma hid her
surprise, wondering what Marie thought of Donovan making invitations. They
paused, kind of awkwardly, as soon as she realized Gabe had to have some idea
of what was happening, especially since good Lord, Sam still hadn’t put his
clothes on.

Thank God, Sam spoke up. “We’ll be done
by then.”

Well, what could she do now? Tuck her
tail and run at the insinuation those words had probably given Gabe?

What would Gabe think of Sam if she
bailed?

Her best friend wasn’t some cold, scary
jerk like Luka. She knew that’s what it would look like if she didn’t put on a
calm face and answer up.

“Thank you for the heads-up,” she tried
to say in her most even voice.

His glance dipped down to his feet. Yep,
she’d made sweet, quiet Gabe uncomfortable. Emma patted down the wet parts of
her blouse, feeling how her skin had become itchy under the softener where it
soaked through. She ignored it.

“And thank you for the laundry help.”
She leaned in and patted his hand. “We won’t be long. I’ll come find you
afterward in case you need help with that stitching.”

He pulled in on his lips from the inside
and held them together.

Emma didn’t have time to figure out what
that may or may not mean. She left Gabe there in the doorway and walked the few
steps across the room, silently repeating Sam’s name the whole way over. She
scooped up her safety
net,
Sam’s set of dress whites,
the ones he wore for the “Hero” routine. If they were doing this, if they were
proving something to each other and calling
re-do’s
on
disastrous nights from their pasts, he was doing it in this. The man was going
to know he was her hero, fully clothed.

Darn. The small pile was missing two
things, his officer’s hat and white gloves. She could watch him take those off,
finger by finger, over and over again.

A cold chill swept over her at the overall
emptiness of
S
room. She prayed this
uniform, and Sam dressed in it, was enough to fill it up.

“Back in a second, I have to grab
something,” she said to Sam who just sat there with a too-serious face and a
look that said he doubted her return. To that, all she could do was leave and
then let the proof be in her return.

****

Damn. How many times had he sat in this
chair while show patrons fondled their way around, with permission, without
permission?
 
Did it matter?

His ass cheeks had never been in that
chair naked as they were now. His skin stuck to the firm seat as he stood and
paced a circle around it. Sam tugged back on his short hair.

She said a second. He glanced at the
wall clock. She wasn’t coming back.

He stared down the door, willing Emma to
walk through.
This time at
his
invitation.

Not by accident, like the time she’d
opened the door to find him with someone’s legs wrapped around his waist.
Somehow he knew it wouldn’t matter were he to explain it was only for fun. The
look on her face that time still killed him. Was that why she hated this room
so much? How many different ways had he managed to hurt his best friend?

I’m
such a dumbass. I never should have brought her to the damn job interview.

But he knew why he’d done that. Sam
shook his head. He’d done it because he’d had no idea what else he could do. No
idea how to keep her close, make sure she was okay, but keep his distance, too.
Working together had seemed like a great solution. Clearly, he hadn’t been
thinking straight.

He walked back to the center of the room
where the chair was secured to the ground and did his best to make it move
again. The damn thing was sturdy and not going anywhere. The last guy in here
better have done like he was supposed to and wiped it clean. Sam made his way
through the dim light and slid his hand along the wall where an inconspicuous
container of antibacterial wipes, kind of like the ones you’d find at the gym,
was mounted on a set of shelves. He grabbed one and wiped the chair down, then
tossed the wipe to one dark corner. Just because he never took things that far
with customers didn’t mean some of his peers hadn’t. Jay’s face came to mind.
It was hard work, not getting turned on when every once in a while, the right
girl showed up in the audience. He’d seen Jay’s face tonight when he squeezed a
short, sequin-covered ass more than the one time the routine called for, but
apparently Donovan had been the one to get lucky.

In the two years he’d been doing this,
the right girl hadn’t shown up a single night, she’d been here every night.
Watching him.
Working for him.
Keeping her distance but staying so close.

That ended tonight.

She would stay for him. Or she wouldn’t,
and he’d leave his best friend alone to find her perfect fit.

Just then the door opened without the
courtesy of a knock.

At first he thought it was Gabe coming
to say Emma had left the building.

But there she was.

And there he was, standing bare-ass
naked in front of her. It had happened plenty of times before, but this was
different. The door closed loudly and made her jump. She walked over to his
pile of clothes which she topped with his hat and gloves she’d just brought in.

“Found those in my locker?” he asked,
admitting he was slightly nervous about the unknown right now, swimming in her
dark, doe eyes. Her blonde hair shone in a small bit of light. Pretty, he
thought.
Very pretty.
And soft.

She held the set out to him as she
hovered nearby.

“Yep.”

“Are you okay being in here?” he blurted
out, a little too late but still.

“Hell no,” she said and pushed the
clothes into his stomach as he looked down at her, hating his height and width
at that moment if it had her the least bit intimidated.

She wanted him to take the clothes from
her,
he could tell from the way her stiff arm kept jabbing
them at him.

“Stay, Emma. Please,” he said and then
took the clothes as a sign he wasn’t there to torment her exactly.

“Put those on and I’ll do my best.”

“Fair enough.”
He started to
get dressed, then paused, unsure of what exactly she wanted. “Wait, all of it?”
he asked.

He watched her shoulders rise and then
fall as if she’d made some big compromise and was settling on the terms.
“Yes, all of it.”

To him, that probably meant something
entirely different, but he would clarify, hoping his assumption was correct.
The thought, the fantasy thrilled him beyond what should be normal for a guy.
“You want me to get dressed for you, Emma?”

Her head tilted, making the sides of her
long, blonde bob fall at an even more exaggerated angle. It skimmed perfectly along
her jaw. Damn, it was sexy like that. He knew she didn’t mean it that way. But
he could admit he’d fantasized a few late, lonely nights about kissing his way
along her jaw. Her shoulder rose and touched her chin. Did she want his touch?
If she did, he wouldn’t expect Emma to ask.

“Turn around. Watch me,” he said gently.

Unlike when he’d stripped out of this
getup, this was really wrecking his mind. Come to think of it, she had watched
him get dressed on several occasions. And yeah, he’d caught her blinking the
few times he’d made eye contact with her.

“Are we making another huge mistake,
Sam?
Wh
—
what
are we doing?”

“Sharing,” it was the first thing that came
to mind. “I don’t work here anymore. This is okay as long as you’re okay with
it.” Unfortunately, they didn’t have all night.
Less than an
hour to be exact.

She was still stationed by the door, and
he was still standing there naked. Her chin had dipped.

Sam took the few steps to her and raised
her chin. He swallowed and watched her eyes on his throat.

“Come, please,” he said and had to tug
her at first to get her to move with him. When her feet moved from where they’d
seemed stuck before, he led her to the chair. “Sit, please.”

Unlike all the women who’d eagerly
hopped into the seat then feasted on the sight of his lower body, unapologetically
staring holes through his pants, she, sitting there with his hardening cock at
eye level now, did not indulge.
Did not ogle him.
And
she hadn’t taken the seat eagerly.

“Why won’t you look at me now, Emma?” Proof
that her earlier “strip for me” stunt hadn’t been the actions of his best
friend but those of a stressed-out woman with too much bottled up inside.

“I am looking at you,” she said.
“And waiting for you to get dressed.”

Not at his eyes, that’s not what he’d
meant. Shit. Maybe it said something that here they were in the privacy of this
room, furnished for the imagination and a couple’s pleasure, and she wouldn’t
even look at what she did to him. Maybe that pain he’d caused her would never
leave. Maybe she didn’t want this, this way, with him.

“Damn, I’m sorry.” He set the folded
uniform on her lap and started to get dressed. He made sure to turn away from
her as he pulled the pants on. His ass shouldn’t be
so
offending as his stiff cock, mocking him and his desire for her now. Yeah, he
still wanted her, just like he had two years ago. Nothing could change that.
But he wouldn’t force himself on Emma. He zipped up the pants, carefully, and
realized he hadn’t put the briefs on. Guess he was going commando. Next he
picked up the shirt. He had one arm in when he heard her clear her throat.