How Cassie Got Her Grind Back(Divine Creek Ranch 23)(12)

“They make a great-looking couple. Joseph always seems so serious, and she’s so spunky, but it’s obvious they adore each other,” Cassie murmured.

“They do. It seems opposites do attract, at least in their case.”

Samson turned to her and, with great care, as if he was afraid he might hurt her or intimidate her, pulled her to him. With an undeniable, magnetic pull, they came together, their hips and thighs aligning, the warmth of his hand sliding low around her hip. His touch sparked a heat in her depths that made her go warm and wet between her thighs and heightened the heat in her cheeks. The chemistry between them was the same as it had been years ago, comfortingly familiar yet disconcerting. Glancing up, she realized he was studying her, his eyes were hooded as if he was guessing at her aroused state, and a half-smile quirked his lips.

Drawing a ragged breath, Cassie searched for something to say. “Have you spent much time around them?”

“Bunny and Joseph? Only on club nights.”

She nodded at his reply and floundered for something else to say. Should she ask about his involvement in the BDSM club? Did she even want to know? What if it was something really…wicked he did?

“How is Ivan?” she finally asked after a long pause. Samson’s good-natured twin was surely a safe subject.

“He’s fine. I saw him last week. Talked to him earlier this evening, and he said to tell you hello.”

“Oh? Oh, that must’ve been who you were talking to on your phone when I saw you upstairs earlier. Sorry, not that I was snooping. That’s none of my business.” For all she knew he’d been talking to another woman, maybe his girlfriend or…sub? Did he have a sub? She hadn’t thought to ask Grace. Darn it!

He chuckled, and Cassie had the suspicion he was enjoying her fumbling attempt at conversation. She finally giggled and let out a long breath. “Sheesh. You would think we hadn’t seen each other in thirty years or something.”

“Or something,” he replied smoothly, stroking her cheekbone and her temple. She hoped her silver roots weren’t showing too much in the festive lights hung over the dance floor. “It’s been a lot of years, Cassandra.”

When he used that tone and called her by her full name, she wanted to cuddle to him, like she used to do at high school dances. She blinked as the song changed and then chuckled as the new one started. “Dancin’ Away with My Heart” by Lady Antebellum.

“What?” he asked as he continued gazing into her eyes.

“Whenever I hear this song on the radio, it always brings to mind the last time we danced together…and saying goodbye on graduation night.”

He danced with her, his chin lowered as he listened to the song, and then a slow smile spread on his lips and he nodded. “Same here. It makes me think of sneaking a dance with you at our senior prom. Remember?”

“Of course. Josie couldn’t stand seeing you looking so sad and turned a blind eye so I could dance with you, and with Ivan.”

A cold front had blown in the night of the prom, and she’d been unprepared for how chilly it had been. Seeing her shiver, Samson had insisted on wrapping her up in his humungous letter jacket. She’d tried to return it after their dance, but he’d refused, saying he’d rather she stay warm and risk never seeing it again. The memory of the intensity in his blue eyes, the set of his jaw, and the steely tone he’d used brought a lump to her throat.

“I couldn’t believe we got away with it,” he murmured, watching her face. She looked down but—protective and intuitive as ever—he saw her fleeting frown. Josie had sworn she hadn’t said a word to anyone, but somehow her dad had known they’d danced together anyway. “What? Did he take my jacket from you and burn it?”

“No.”

Samson cleared his throat, drawing her gaze. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me.”

She shrugged one shoulder and sighed. “Extra chores.”

“He already worked you like a slave. What more could he add to the list?” he probed.

“Cleaning out the rain gutters at the restaurant the following weekend.”

He fumed for a minute and then said, “I remember how chapped and raw your hands had always looked that winter after all the bullshit at the Homecoming game went down. He used you to punish all of us. I wonder how he knew.”

“I don’t know, but I did manage to keep your jacket safe.”

“How?”

“I hid it in my hope chest. Dad would never have looked in there. And it was in our bedroom all those years, but Bill never took an interest in what I kept in there. You could have it back.”