The Dirty Series 2(161)

My chest goes tight and hot.

This is all a fucking coincidence, a freak accident of time and space, and I’m crashing and burning, pissed off and quickly losing control.

Because the truth that I can’t ignore, the truth that’s hitting me over the head, over and over and over, is that I still want her.

The sight of her is like a drug I’ve been craving for months. I want to run my fingers through her blonde hair, twist it in my hands, tilt her head back. I want to put my lips against the pulse in her throat and lick downward to her collarbone. I want to push her up against the wall and kiss her like I’ve never kissed anyone in my life, hotter and harder than I’ve even kissed her, and I don’t give a damn who sees. I don’t give a damn who’s watching.

All of it roils in my gut.

“It’s not how I imagined it, either.”

Sam’s voice is soft, and her eyes are still blue pools of pain, but her words cut deep. It’s like a brick crashing through glass in the middle of downtown, the shards flying in every direction, onto the sidewalk, onto the road.

So I’m not the only one who’s thought about what might happen if we saw one another again.

Sam hasn’t looked away from me, and her eyes are still locked on mine, still covered with a sheen that she couldn’t hide from me even if she tried. God fucking help me if this goes any further, if she bites her lip, if her chin quivers, if even one tear spills out of those beautiful eyes and onto the smooth surface of her cheek. If that happens, I won’t be able to keep my hands off her.

I don’t know how long we’ve been talking, but I finally register what she’s wearing—professional slacks that hug the curves of her legs and a blue shirt with buttons down the front, the collar ironed to sharp points.

She didn’t come here to see me.

Did she?

“What are you doing here?”

It comes out with a sharp edge, but there’s nothing I can do to smooth it. Being this close to her, breathing in the subtle scent of her shampoo, is lighting my entire body on fire. My cock strains against the fabric of my jeans, pulses with the heat that’s ricocheting through every nerve ending.

A smile flickers across Sam’s face, then disappears. “I have a job here.” Her forehead wrinkles and she shakes her head a little bit, like they weren’t the right words.

My stomach drops right into my damn feet. This cannot be happening. I can’t come to work every day knowing that she’s somewhere inside this building. I can’t live in Lockton if I know she could be waiting in every store, every bar, the sight of her enough to shred my heart into a thousand pieces.

“You’re kidding.”

Sam takes in a deep breath. “That was—that’s not really what I meant.”

“What did you mean? Tell me fast, Sam.” I hate this. I hate how much she’s making me lose control. I hate how much power the memories still have over me. I hate the fact that I can’t kiss her right now, and that’s the thing that makes me the most furious I’ve ever been.

“I’m here for a job with my landscape architecture company,” she says, the words tumbling out one after another. “We—we got a contract. For the entrance and the front parking lot. We’re redesigning it, and I—” The breath she lets out hitches just a little, and it slams me with the memory of making her breath hitch like that years ago, when we were wrapped around each other in bed, and she was riding me like there was no tomorrow.

“So you don’t work here.”

“Not—technically. Just for the next week.”

The knot in my stomach releases, but a more fucking unsettling feeling rises in my chest, a pinprick of light, a hope that has no business being there, but one that I can’t stamp out. Not now. Not when I’m looking her in the eye.

I can handle her being here for a week.

I can’t let myself think about what might happen if we run into each other again, if this feeling is as powerful for her as it is for me. It’s pathetic as fuck, being swept away like this, and every cell in my body is fighting it and giving in at the same time.

“That’s great.”

Sam flinches a little, like she can’t read my tone, and if I’m being totally fucking honest, I don’t know what I mean by it, either.

“Yeah.” Disappointment drips off the words, but she forces a smile onto her face. It kills me. It kills me and I’m still standing, still having to live with it. “It’s a really big deal for the company.” The last few words come with a small series of nods, totally unconvincing. A company. She’s with a company, with a real job, representing them here, and I’m the asshole in the hallway who just got off his shift on the factory floor.