Page 105 of Prey for You

I swallowed hard and put a hand on his bicep, feeling the strength of his arms, stroking the planes of his chest just to remember the steel of him.

He glanced at me several times, but his bag was open on the other side of the sink. Except this time he didn’t have the first aid kit out.

He pulled out a tub of moisturizer I didn’t recognize, but it smelled divine, and taking a small amount, he massaged it into the skin on my face.

I was stunned.

More moisturizer—from a much larger bottle—and soon he was rubbing it all over my body. Neck. Chest. Arms… he stepped back a little and cupped the back of my knee to lift first one leg, then the other, rubbing that cool moisture into my skin all the way down my feet.

Then he was kneeling again, and he had something else that he massaged into my feet, between my toes, even the soles…

I was almost crying again, but only because it was all so damnsweet.

When he straightened and reached for the towel on my hair, I couldn’t stop staring. He looked around, frowning. Then he opened the drawer next to me and found my comb.

He started combing my hair, starting from the bottom, moving up.

I gaped at him like he was mythical.

Hewasmythical. He had to be.

This was a hallucination. I’d cracked. I was tied up somewhere in a mental institution and none of this was happening.

Except he leaned in, standing right between my knees, his body brushing mine, his breath fluttering against my skin as he carefully, gently combed through my hair.

“Sam… how do you even know how to do this stuff?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “I learned.”

My chest went tight again and he froze, looking down at me. “Bridget, what—”

“All those other women.” I swallowed hard. He didn’t move, but his frown lines appeared.

“What? No. Babe,no.”

I waved a hand, but the little chuckle in my throat was too high to be natural and he knew it. “It’s fine. I know—”

But I’d looked away and Sam caught my chin and turned my head back, leaning in until we were almost nose to nose, and he filled my vision. “Bridget, they taught meskills.But I’ve never touched anyone the way I touch you.Ever.”

His intensity soothed me. I almost told him then, about the burning jealousy I’d felt when he described those other hunts, those other relationships, and theirtrustin him.

I got it. I got it really well. They wererightto have trusted him.

Was this what he did? Did he fall in love and make them heal… then he left?

Sam stared down at me, shaking his head. “Don’t do that,” he murmured. “I’m here, Bridge. I’m here withyou.”

I nodded, but then my breath caught because he slipped his arms around me and lifted me up again, carrying me back into the bedroom.

My core fluttered and I curled an arm around his neck, kissing the side of his neck as he carried me back into the bedroom.

I thought he’d take me back to bed, and we’d make love again, and maybe this time I could do it without crying. But to my surprise, when Sam faced the bed, it was only to look over his shoulder and back himself into the plush chair in the corner. Then he settled into it, leaning my back against the arm, carefully lifting each of my legs and hooking them over the opposite arm, then pulling me against his chest.

He flattened a hand on my head and pressed me against his shoulder.

A moment later, he sighed, and tipped his head against mine. Then I sighed and let him take all my weight.

For a long time we sat like that. I stared at his hand cupped under my thigh, his fingers just tight enough to press into the soft skin, but not to hurt. But I couldn’t stop staring at the tendons on his hand, and those lines in his forearm and…

---