Page 33 of Tempt

My pussy runs slick and hot for him.

Because the worst is better than I’ve ever had before, and I want more, whatever the cost.

For the next twenty-four hours,I wrestle with how to frame the conversation to Sam. By the Common Law of Date Definitions, we’re only on our second date. The first was deciding to go back to his place. Second was me inviting him on this trip. Maybe breakfast in between could be called a date, too, but even by the Pedantic Law of Date Definitions, we’re on our third.

Fourth, if you count our kiss ten years ago.

Do angry kisses count as dates? The jury’s still out on that.

“What are you thinking about?” Sam asks, bopping me on the nose lightly with his fingertip.

I shake my head to clear the cobwebs and blink up at him. I’d taken a seat near the fireplace and gone into la-la land while he went to the bar.

Now he’s brought us very grown-up mugs of hot chocolate. I pick up one of the cups he sets in front of me, take a sip, and make an appreciative sound. “Thank you. I was, uh, counting how many dates we’ve had.”

“Seven,” he says without hesitation.

I laugh. “How do you count that many?”

Sam gives me an inscrutable look, then gestures for me to stand up. “Come on.”

Curious, I let him lead me to a more private nook on the second-floor balcony that overlooked the fireplace. “What?”

He draws me close and takes my hot chocolate, setting it on the rustic table next to the couch we’ve got all to ourselves.

Then he holds up his index finger to begin the list. “Our first was a month after Regan and I broke up, and you definitely thought it was a study session, not a date. But I bought you coffee and walked you home. Technically a date framework.”

My mouth drops open. He’d been going to the coffee shop anyway, for one thing, and for the other, we’d been heading in the same direction.

Technically, that’s some imaginative framework. And it makes me feel funny inside.

He leans in, kisses my bottom lip, and nudges my jaw back up. “The second date was the reverse, a month later. You sought me out and I didn’t realize until later because you were quite clever about it.”

“I did no such thing,” I protest.

“Library stacks, fifth floor. It was a Thursday night. You found me in a study room and suggested we study together.”

“That’s really not a date,” I say slowly. But now I remember the night clearly. I did seek him out. “How did you know I was looking for you?”

“I didn’t. Not then. Not until the night we kissed, and you told me to pretend I don’t know you if I ever see you again. And you also said…” He gives me a sheepish look. “‘Or if I’m stupid enough to pretend I need a study buddy when really I want a—’ And then you cut yourself off, told yourself this was all fucking stupid, and you stormed off. I played that line over and over again in my head, and realized what it meant a few days later.”

My mouth drops open for the second time. Because I remember it now. Exactly as he’s described it. I’d been so shaken, so angry at myself for not realizing what I was doing, putting myself in his path when I’d wanted him for so long.

I’d wanted him for so long.

All the blood drains from my face. Ah, damn it all to hell.

“Hazel?” Sam swears under his breath and pulls me in close.

“I wanted you,” I whisper over my pounding heart. “When you were Regan’s boyfriend. I wanted you then. I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

He growls lightly in my ear. “That was ten years ago, Hazel. It doesn’t matter now.”

I know he’s right. But I’ve never consciously acknowledged this before. I need a minute to realize just how much guilt I’ve been carrying in a locked part of my heart.

I wasn’t honest back then. Not with myself, not with my best friend, and not with the man who, once single, put himself in my path again and again because he knew I wanted him there.

There’s nothing I can do about the past.

---