Page 97 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

I blink in surprise. “Where’s your truck?”

“Not fancy enough for tonight,” he says with a wink, holding out his arm.

We’re both silent during the limo ride. Sam is unusually quiet, his hand resting lightly on my thigh. Just that light touch is enough to start my heart racing, but I’m not ready to cave immediately. I already know how good he is in bed. But this night is about more than just great sex.

When we arrive at the restaurant, a hostess leads us to a private room lit with soft, golden candlelight. The table is set with fine china and crystal glasses, and the faint strains of a string quartet play in the background.

“This is… nice,” I say, glancing around.

“You deserve it,” Sam replies huskily, pulling out my chair for me.

The dinner is perfect—every bite is a symphony of flavors. Sam ordered for both of us, remembering my newfound craving for spicy food. The dishes are exquisite, and the heat is balanced perfectly with sweet and tangy notes. But every time I think Sam will start a serious conversation, he doesn’t. I don’t press him, letting the moment unfold at its own pace.

As we finish a sinfully decadent dessert, he looks at me. Without a word, he stands and offers me his hand. “Dance with me,” he says, his voice low and steady.

I blink at him, caught off guard. “Here?”

“Here,” he replies simply, his lips curving into a small smile. “Just you and me.”

My heart flutters as I place my hand in his. The warmth of his palm sends a shiver of awareness through me. He leads me to an open space near the corner of the private room, where the music feels intimate. His other hand finds the small of my back, guiding me close.

“I want to hold you,” he says quietly, his breath brushing against my temple.

We begin to sway, the melody wrapping around us like a cocoon. My hands instinctively move to his shoulders, and I feel his fingers tighten around my waist. The world outside the restaurant seems to disappear, leaving just the two of us in this quiet, candlelit moment.

“I’m not that good with words, Emily,” Sam whispers to me softly, “I do best communicating with music.” He looks into my eyes. And then I hear it, the song. It’s Ed Sheeran singing Perfect. My heart beats a little faster.

I tilt my head back to look at him, feeling the tension between us ease just a little. His eyes are soft, filled with something that makes my chest ache.

“Emily,” he says, his voice barely audible over the music. “You drive me crazy you know that?”

I smile, my fingers brushing against the back of his neck. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”

“Both,” he admits, his lips curving into a playful grin. “But mostly good.”

“Listen, about Bobbi—”

“You don’t have to explain,” I cut him off. “It wasn’t about her. Not really.”

Sam nods, looking relieved, and pulls me closer.

The song ends, and another love song begins. It’s Elvis Presley singing "Can’t Help Falling in Love." Sam looks deep into my eyes as if waiting for a reaction.

“This is a favorite of yours,” he says softly, pulling me closer. I don’t remember telling him that, but I don’t respond. Instead, I rest my cheek against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my skin. I relax, melting into him.

“Sam,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly. “What are we doing?”

He exhales, his breath warm against my hair. “Figuring it out,” he says simply. “One step at a time.”

I sigh. Maybe we’re not as broken as I feared. This is us finding our way back to each other. I sway against him, letting the music carry us.

As the Elvis song ends, Sam looks down at me, and the heat in his eyes ignites an answering flame in mine.

As soon as the limo door shuts behind us, Sam pulls me roughly toward him, brushing my lips with his. As the kiss deepens, I press against him urgently, wanting to bridge the gap between us in any way I can.

As I feel his hands boldly caress my back, I glance at him. His green eyes are filled with longing, and in that moment, I forget about my hurt feelings and my doubts. Instead, I’m only aware of the answering ache between my thighs.

Sam pulls me onto his lap. His seeking hand goes beneath my skirt, where he finds me wet and waiting for his touch. Pushing my barely there thong out of his way, he thrust inside me with a blunt finger. Gasping at the sudden intrusion, my eyes flutter closed. Biting my lip to keep from moaning at the sensations he’s arousing, I lean my face into his shoulder.

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