“Crystal,” Sam bit out, and moved aside so she could pass.
He shook his head, his gaze narrowing on the swing of her world class ass covered by her khaki shorts as she stalked away. Inside he felt the familiar burn he used to get when he was gearing up for a mission. The adrenaline rush accompanied by a sense of almost otherworldly calm as his plan of attack came together in his head.
Carla didn't know it, but she'd just laid down a gauntlet in front of a man who never walked away from a dare. From a man determined to win this, the battle for her heart. The battle of his life.
He didn't even realize he was grinning in anticipation until he heard Chris say, “I don't know what the fuck you're smiling about. We've got at least a million in repairs and we’ll lose half that in revenue while we're closed. I hope to hell Carla's up to dealing with it.”
“She's up to it,” Sam assured him. When it came to managing the business, getting the repairs completed on time for the high season and on or under budget, there was no doubt Carla would get it done.
But when it came to denying what she had with Sam? The poor woman had no idea who she was messing with.
Chapter 12
By the time Carla returned to her place she was exhausted. Physically from the hours spent poring over the damage to Holley Cay. But mostly emotionally, some from having to face the reality of the damage the storm had inflicted, but mostly from that conversation with Sam.
It had taken every bit of resolve to look him in the eye and tell him that what they had, what they had shared was nothing. That he was nothing. To not give into temptation and throw herself into his arms, knowing he would welcome her there.
But for how long? How long before he gets bored and wants to move on? He might be a little gentler about it this time around but it’s guaranteed to hurt even more. It was that thought alone that forced the words from her mouth that would tell him in no uncertain terms that there was no way what had started during the storm could continue.
The confrontation had left her drained, feeling like a deflated balloon, and she'd wandered through the rest of the day in a haze of anxiety as she and Chris prioritized which repairs to attack first.
Chris had gone back to the other resort about an hour ago. Even though it was just after 8 pm, all Carla wanted was a hot shower and to collapse into bed and sleep. The flashlight in her right hand illuminated her way down the hallway to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and started over to the bookshelf to grab a hurricane lamp and matches when the edge of her flashlight beam caught on a dark, hulking form in the armchair across from her bed.
Carla jumped and fumbled with the flashlight at the sound of a match striking. Then the room was lit by the mellow glow of another hurricane lamp, revealing the presence waiting for her in the corner.
Though her heart was beating about a thousand miles an hour, she wasn't completely surprised to see Sam sitting in the chair, one foot resting on the opposite knee as he sat back in the chair as though he didn't have a care in the world.
As though he hadn't been waiting in the dark for God knew how long to ambush her.
Fear quickly morphed to anger. “What the hell do you think you're doing? You scared the hell out of me.”
“After our little conversation I figured if I wanted to see you I'd have to take matters into my own hands.”
The lamplight illuminated Sam's face and she saw that it was in complete juxtaposition to his body's relaxed posture. His brows were pulled low over his eyes, his jaw granite hard. And now that she got a closer look at his shoulders bunched under the fabric of his dark t-shirt, she could almost see the waves of anger emanating off of him.
He pushed out of the chair, took a menacing step forward, the hurricane lamp in one hand.
Carla reflexively took a step back. “What do you want Sam?”
“You know exactly what I want. You think you can convince me what we did didn't mean a damn thing, that you don't want to do this anymore, but we both know that's not true, don't we?
She backed up another step. A few more and her knees would hit the back of her four poster bed.
Right where he wanted her.
She swallowed hard as he set the lamp on her dresser, felt a rush of blood to her cheeks as his eyes skimmed over her with a predatory heat.
“It's okay,” he said. He tossed something on the bed behind her and yanked her to him. Though her body was tense, she didn't try to push him away. “You don't have to say it out loud if you don't want to.” He bent his head but instead of covering her mouth with his, he opened his mouth over the spot where her pulse was thrumming double time, flicking it with his tongue, softly nipping it with his teeth.
Though every shred of common sense screamed at her to shove him away, she was frozen in his hold, helpless against her body's swift, intense response to his touch. The light scrape of his teeth sent a rush of wet heat between her legs, pulled her nipples so tight and sensitive her satin bra might as well have been made of sandpaper.