Page 20 of Tell Me Again
“Part of me believes it,” she said with a harsh laugh, yanking on the latch and in doing so, shaking off his touch. “I may not want to hear it, but that doesn’t make it less true. It was another form of selling myself... my face... a promise of something that wasn’t real. And the way I acted supported it. God, the things she’s seen if she’s Googled me.”
She opened the door and stepped into the shed, wiping down the bow and placing it in its case on the shelf. The familiar movements settled her frayed nerves. When she turned, Trevor was blocking her way out.
He moved closer, crowding her, and then reached for her when she would have turned away again. “You’re real and you’re not the person you were before,” he said, cupping her face with his hands.
They were warm, the pads of his fingers slightly callused. Her eyes drifted closed as a thousand sparks buzzed along her skin, a tremor of awareness moving up and down her body, lighting the dormant fires of need and want she’d safely buried.
Nothing about Trevor was safe.
“Look at me, Sam.”
She did, meeting the intensity of his pale blue eyes. The golden slivers that ringed them seemed to glow with desire as he looked at her. Desire for her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You got out of that town. Away from your mother and all the bad shit that filled her world. You made a life for yourself, and I can’t fault you for that.”
“It could have been different for all of us. I wanted to take you with me. I wanted you and Bryce both to—”
“I know, honey.” He leaned in, brushed his mouth across hers. The touch was featherlight, and his lips were soft, completely at odds with the hard strength of the rest of him. His hands cradled her, making her feel cherished. The gentle pressure of his mouth made her feel wanted.
It was embarrassing how much she craved this wanting. Trevor was the only man who had ever expected her to be more than a pretty face. He saw her, and while it was terrifying to think she might come up lacking, it was also exhilarating.
Despite her fears and doubts, she deepened the kiss. She invited him in, shyly tangled her tongue with his. He moaned, and the sound was like a hundred gold stars for good behavior. It gave her confidence to press her body to his, to twine her fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
Not surprisingly, they fit together perfectly. In this way, they always had. His kiss turned demanding and Sam met each of his silent claims with a demand of her own. Desire swirled through her and when his hand skimmed down her neck to trace the hollow at the base of her throat, she sucked in a breath.
And wanted.
God, how she wanted.
More. Everything. To pretend like nothing else mattered except this moment.
But it did.
Sam couldn’t forget the past that had shaped her and the fact that he’d kept her from her sister’s child.
Gasping for air, she pulled away, pressing her fingers to lips that were swollen from Trevor’s kisses.
“We have to get back to Grace,” she said, ignoring the rough edge to her voice. The need still pulsing through her.
Trevor gave a small nod and placed his hands on his hips. His chest rose and fell in the same way hers did, and it was a slight comfort to know she wasn’t the only one struggling to regain control at this moment.
They were silent as they left the shed. Trevor shut the door and locked it but took Sam’s hand as they moved toward the path. The sky was beginning to streak with patterns of pink and gold. She felt suspended in this quiet corner of her property, the forest around them lending to the intimacy of the moment.
“I will apologize for a lot of things when it comes to you,” he said, lifting her knuckles to his mouth. “But not for kissing you.”
“We shouldn’t go there,” she whispered, even though she wanted to go there so badly it left a gaping hole in her heart.
“We’ll see about that,” he answered with a wry smile. “Getting my hands on you seems to be the only thing I’m clear about right now. That and the fact that Grace willnotpursue modeling.”
Sam drew her hand away from his, agitation skittering up her spine. She retraced her steps along the snow path, Trevor at her side. “She’s young still. Thirteen-year-old girls aren’t known for their commitment to one particular career path. She might not even like the business. Things have changed quite a bit since—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. She didn’t need to look at him to know that his whole body was tense. She could feel the tension rolling off him like the tide. “She won’t get the opportunity to try. You need to tell her she’s not right for it and you won’t help her.”
Sam stopped at the edge of the archery range and crossed her arms over her chest. “Excuse me?”
His eyes narrowed. “This is nonnegotiable, Sam. My daughter isn’t going to model and I’m not going to let you fill her head with any ideas to the contrary.”
“She’s the one who brought it up.”
