Private Paradise(43)

Sam collapsed back against the cushions and clumsily pulled Carla up over him.

“Not too lousy for you?” Carla murmured against his throat.

Sam let out a weak chuckle and slid his hand over her ass to pull her tighter to him. “Whoever told you that was an undeserving asshole and a coward who was too stupid to see how much he'd regret not grabbing onto you with both hands and never letting you go.”

Carla snuggled closer and he felt the puff of her breath as she chuckled against his neck. “An asshole, a fool, and a coward, huh? I probably should have never let him near me.”

Despite the humor in her voice, Sam felt a tight pinch in his chest as he acknowledged the truth in her words. “Definitely. Unfortunately I'd had it bad for you for so long, I don't know that there would have been anything that would have kept me away. Except maybe if you'd been a lesbian, but even then I probably would have badgered you non-stop to let me watch.”

Her soft laugh sent a ripple of pleasure through him. He'd always loved making her laugh. He'd always loved everything about her. And yet he hadn't been able to keep the fear at bay enough to keep himself from fucking it up. “Yep, you definitely deserved better than the worthless, aimless son of a drunk who didn't have a single good thing in his life that didn't get wrecked to hell. So instead I took the best thing I ever had and trashed it myself.”

He heard her breath catch and she reached up to stroke his jaw with her hand. He leaned into the touch like an old stray dog dying for a pet. “You were never worthless, no matter what your dad said.” She propped herself up on his chest. “And I think you've proven pretty definitively that you're not aimless,” she said, her fingers unconsciously tracing the scar on his chest.

As he looked into her eyes, it was as though the years had disappeared, and they were once again back on their blanket under the stars, Carla looking at him like he'd hung the moon, telling him that no matter what other people thought about him, she knew he wasn't a loser who was never going to amount to anything.

If only he'd believed her then.

“I know I've been giving you a hard time since you got here,” Carla said, her eyes dropping down to focus on her fingers tracing aimless patterns over his chest. “But not just anyone can be a special forces badass, and not every man has it in him to take a bullet for someone else, no matter how much he's being paid. And considering where you came from and everything you had to overcome, what you've done is pretty amazing.”

“You're amazing,” Sam said, his heart swelling so much he felt like it was going to crack through his ribs.

Slow down, jackass, he cautioned himself. She didn't say you were amazing, she said what you've done is amazing. And there was nothing in there about forgiving you and giving you another chance to really make it right.

Still, as he pulled her up to kiss him, he couldn't extinguish the sense of small triumph that she was softening toward him, opening up in a way that had nothing to do with sex. In a way, he realized in a sudden rush, he needed her to do.

Because he loved her. Still? Again? He wasn't sure and he didn't care. All that mattered was that he knew it was true, and now that he had her heading in the right direction, he was going to do everything he could to keep them on the right track.

But as he lifted his head, one look into her eyes, wary once again, told him that if he revealed anything that was going on his head right now she'd retreat back behind that wall quicker than a heartbeat.

“Amazing, huh,” she said, and he heard the slight strain in her voice, the same tone she'd gotten earlier when things had started to go just a little bit too deep into the “not just killing time with sex” territory. “Amazingly sticky, is more like it,” she said, indicating the dried patches of ice cream gluing them together in some spots.

She started to pull away but Sam held her fast, pushing aside his disappointment as he pushed himself up. “There's an easy fix to that.”

Cradling her in his arms, he stood from the couch and walked back through the master bedroom into the villa's bathroom. On the way he grabbed a hurricane lamp to light their way. With the sunken tub and shower done entirely in marble and brushed nickel fixtures, the bathroom was like having a personal spa in your room.

And the shower was more than big enough for two.

Sam set Carla down and turned on the shower, waiting until steam was spilling under the glass door before he got in, tugging her after him. “Let me,” he said when she would have reached for the soap.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back under the spray as he lathered up his hands. He ran them over her back and shoulders, not bothering to stifle his deep groan at the feel of her wet and slippery under his hands.