The Promise He Made Her (20 page)

“Are you saying you want to have sex? With me?”

He was probably completely off base. Could even be talking with his penis. But she was all about honesty and he had never been more truthfully certain that he wanted to help her in any way he could.

“We know there can't possibly be anything between us. And...you've got something else that I likely wouldn't find with anyone else I might have a one-night stand with.” Her statement sent shock waves through him. And curiosity.

“What's that?”

“I trust you. I admire you. And it can't get any safer than you in terms of experimenting,” she continued, and took a breath as though to expound further.

He wanted to hear her out. But she didn't get a chance to speak again. He'd shoved his tongue in her mouth.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

B
LOOM
MADE
A
conscious decision to have sex with Sam Larson. And she completely trusted that they both really just wanted to have sex one time—not start a relationship.

Like a man picking a woman up in a bar for a one-night fling, only she was the one who was doing the picking up.

Sort of.

When Sam kissed her, she kissed him back. Using her tongue as she'd been taught to use it. Kissing, having sex, was a no-brainer to her in terms of what to do with body parts.

And because this was just an experiment, not a relationship, there was no reason for conversation. She noted when he broke away from her long enough to take a condom out of his wallet and toss it on the nightstand. She noted his sporadic breathing and...

Mmm. His lips were... His tongue was...

What was he...

His tongue was soft against hers. It was caressing hers. Gently. His whole mouth was...gentle.

And the curious butterflies of pleasure flittered down between her legs.

The man could kiss.

And she wanted more.

She followed his lead. Let him take her. She didn't have to worry about his pleasure, about making it good for him. This was an experiment. To prove something to her.

Her arms tingled. Her breasts ached. She lost her balance and braced her hands against his chest.

The thump of Sam's heartbeat righted her for a moment. Gave her something familiar and cerebral to focus on. The rate was elevated.

He was enjoying this, too?

The thought startled her and she broke away from his mouth to look into his eyes. They weren't the same. They were...softer...which made no sense. Deeper, like he wasn't only seeing through them, he was helping her see. She wanted to see. As deep as it could go.

“You okay?” His voice wasn't the same, either. It was hoarse and moist and...

She looked for words. Came up blank. And nodded.

“You want to go on?”

“Oh, yes.”

Was he in doubt? She knew what to do about that, how to show him that she wanted to pleasure him...

Loosening his tie a bit more than he already had sometime before they'd arrived home that night, she left it on, unbuttoning his shirt, opening it to reveal a chest full of dark, sexy hair. And his nipples.

Thrilling at the hair—Kenneth hadn't had much—she put off her own pleasure to zone in on his nipples. Teasing them with her fingers. And then her tongue. He groaned and she felt his appreciation all the way to her core.

To...her feminine core.

What was going on? She continued kissing him in a way she knew men liked. And because this was about her, she also ran her fingers through the hair on his chest. It was a curious mixture of soft and coarse. She buried her nose in it, running her lips across it, fascinated by how it tickled and enticed at the same time.

He pushed at her jacket, and understanding what he wanted, she helped him slide it off, returning to her task—and her delight—as soon as her arms were free. He unbuttoned her shirt. She knew he wanted her breasts. Men liked breasts. She was happy to provide his pleasure. The squeezing and fondling.

She was glad to have Sam's hands there, to have him know her that...intimately.

The thought stopped her until she realized that she only wanted Sam there because he'd saved her from Ken. It was a symbolic thing. Nothing more.

Her bra had a front closure and he handled it with skill. Not surprising, considering how gorgeous the man was, that he'd had a lot of experience with women's underthings. Burying her fingers in his chest hair, distracting herself, she still felt his fingers on her breasts. Covering them, as though memorizing their shape. Gentle caresses on her sensitive flesh with the tips of his fingers distracted her from his chest. And when, with one finger of each hand, he brushed her nipples, back and forth, back and forth, Bloom fell over onto her back, lying flat out beneath him on his bed.

She'd never felt so damned good in her life.

* * *

S
AM
HAD
HAD
his share of “wham bam thank you ma'ams.” Probably more than his share. He'd always left his ladies satisfied, but he'd never been so compelled to know every inch of them.

To touch every inch. With reverence.

He was hard to the point of pain. He needed to sink himself in and find relief. But he had so much to do first.

This one-time thing was the only chance he was going to get. He had to make the most of it. Know everything. Get it all. Give it all.

He had one time to show her how great sex could be for her.

Her touch was at once skilled and naive. Schooled and completely innocent. Her body curved and inviting. All woman. Luscious. But it was those brown eyes that drove him.

He might question his sanity later, but as he lay beside a half-clad Bloom, Sam kept looking into those brown eyes. Kept seeking them out. They were his guide.

And his salvation.

* * *

H
ER
SKIRT
WAS
GONE
. So were her panties. She'd lost track of them. Of time. Still with her blouse hanging off her shoulders, and her bra bunched at her back, Bloom rolled over. She wanted her naked detective beneath her so she could taste him like a man wanted to be tasted. She started at his chest, because she couldn't seem to get enough of it, and then started downward.

Pausing at his stomach, she found almost as much pleasure there as she had at his chest. It was just...fine. So strong and masculine and...Sam. It protected his vital organs.

And he was vital.

Vital.

She paused, even while sexual vibrations pulsed through her.

He wasn't vital. The experiment was.

The heat pumping through her blood hadn't cooled yet. But she kept putting off the inevitable. Every time she felt like he might mount her, enter her, she moved. His fingers had lightly explored her body, but when they'd started to do more...she'd moved.

She didn't want the deliciousness to end.

Not the moment. Or the feeling.

What if she couldn't get there? What if this anticipation was all there was for her?

Buying herself some more time, she moved lower, knowing exactly what to do. How to do it. The tip of him lay just beneath his belly button. She should see the velvety softness. Could practically taste...

“Bloom?” With the hoarseness still clouding his voice, Sam pulled her up. “This is just you and me. You don't have to perform.”

How had he known? And why was she burning up even more? Why hadn't she just gone cold?

The moment could have been awkward, but it didn't get that far. Sam was kissing her again. Full mouth, nothing-held-back kisses that went much further than mouth to mouth. She could feel him, the man who'd just honored her in a way she hadn't even known to want, and let him feel her, too.

“I want you,” she said. “Inside me.” The words were foreign to her and felt so natural.

“Not yet,” he told her. “Trust me.”

She did trust him. And so when he told her to lie flat and open her legs, she did so. “This is my treat.” His breath sent shivers all over her as he started at one breast, licking, tasting, kissing and nipping, moving up to her nipple, across to the other breast.

She was wet. Not just from his mouth. And she didn't care. Her hips moved of their own accord. She was on a glorious journey and her job was to ride it out. He moved to her stomach and she liked him there, too. Liked having him tend to the protection of her vital organs.

An odd thought. And yet, it meant so much to her.

But when he dipped lower, when his chin brushed the top of her pelvis, she started to panic. She pulled at his shoulders, feeling weak and ineffective as he continued on his path.

“Sam...” Her entire body was trembling. Her voice sounded frightened, tremulous, even to her own ears. But he didn't stop.

He just continued on down, stroking her with his fingers, with his tongue. Her body arched, reaching for him, reaching for more. She didn't know herself and didn't care. With her fingers clutching the comforter, she let Sam do whatever he wanted.

A crescendo rose inside her. With no warning, no time to think or process, she cried out. And then cried again as everything just...exploded. Wave after wave after wave of the most exquisite pleasure. More than she'd ever imagined. And even as she rode those waves, Sam quickly sheathed himself, moved up her body, positioned himself between her legs and pushed himself home.

Her body pulsed around him, taking him and letting him go, and a new, unbelievable swell happened, from deeper inside her. Her muscles convulsed with it. She was dizzy and euphoric and never wanted it to stop.

Sam groaned, once, twice, he tensed and trembled and she felt the heat as he emptied himself inside her.

They were done.

* * *

H
E
HADN
'
T
MEANT
to fall asleep. But then, he hadn't meant to have sex with her, either. Sam woke sometime during the night. The bedroom door was open and Lucy had jumped up on his feet. They were where she normally slept when the room was theirs.

Bloom lay with her back to him, facing the opposite wall.

He could stay. Who was to say he'd woken up?

He could even cuddle up behind her. His ex-wife used to cuddle him in his sleep.

Wife. Which spelled relationship with a big
R
.

As quietly as possible, moving as little as necessary, he slid from off the top of the rumpled bed. Seeming to understand the criticalness of the situation, Lucy jumped down as well, watching him.

He made it halfway across the room without looking back. When he did, he saw the naked back and perfectly rounded bottom of the most incredible woman he'd ever met.

He saw her shiver.

He couldn't just leave her that way.

Quietly, carefully, Sam crept back. He lifted the king comforter from Lucy's side of the bed, carried it over and laid it atop a still-sleeping Bloom.

She didn't move. Her deep sleep spoke of extreme exhaustion.

Due, in part at least, to the incredible sex they'd shared.

No matter what else they had going on with the investigations, the destruction and the damage, the court case and an insecure future, one thing was for certain.

Her experiment had been a success.

* * *

B
LOOM
'
S
SECOND
APPOINTMENT
Tuesday morning was with Heather Ramirez, the young mother whose husband beat her for the last time on the night she turned him in and he committed suicide. That was the night that he'd also turned his anger on their baby boy for the first time, forcibly yanking him from his mother's breast and throwing him on the couch.

Tuesday's session was unscheduled. Heather had phoned the service that handled Bloom's calls when she wasn't in the office and booked the first available appointment.

While she'd thought she'd have the hour after her seven o'clock to prepare for the rest of the day, Bloom felt it was probably for the best that she just stay busy.

She was a little shaky that morning. Due to the night before.

She wasn't worried about her and Sam. Afraid that they'd gone too far or made a mistake. They'd done what they set out to do. And the morning had been just like any other. She'd only seen him as they left the house for him to follow her to work.

He'd asked her if she was okay, she'd said she was fine. Then they got in their respective cars and drove off.

She was great with all of that. Happy about it. She just hadn't counted on the aftermath of the hormone surge, the adrenaline surge, the endorphin surge that had accompanied the first orgasm she'd ever had. And the second one, too. The dissipation of said hormones was causing her a bit of...depression.

So she would work harder than ever. Helping others took the focus off herself. Put life back into perspective. She was a very, very lucky woman.

In charge of life.

Able to choose whatever she wanted to choose for her course to the future.

She had the money to buy what she wanted, too.

And lived in paradise.

Sam had called during her first appointment. And then he'd texted to tell her to call him as soon as possible.

Heather was waiting when she showed out Donna Graph, her regular Tuesday, 7:00 a.m. patient. The girl's face was tear-streaked. Sara Havens, the full-time counselor at the Stand was with her. Heather was staying at the Stand. Someone there watched her baby son when Heather had her sessions with Bloom. And whoever was free drove her over.

Sara wasn't usually free. Bloom hoped the baby was at the Stand.

Bloom invited them both in, but Sara, who'd counseled Bloom and didn't counsel Heather, opted to stay in the waiting area.

In the two minutes she'd been gone, Sam had called again. She didn't have time to talk to him, but sent a quick text.

Am I in immediate danger?

His response was quick.
No.

She put the phone down, uneasy.

It could just be a coincidence that Sam was trying to reach her and the victim whose in-laws he thought were responsible for the recent threats against her and the Stand was sitting on her sofa crying softly.

Sam didn't believe in coincidences.

She wished he was there, too.

Which was ridiculous. She liked him, but she didn't
need
him. She didn't need anybody.

And liked it that way.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

What in the hell... She tuned out her inner voice to tend to the matter at hand. It was important.

Bloom sat beside Heather on the couch. She didn't touch the girl. But she stayed close. Human contact was often a healer in itself.