Page 54 of The Love Lie
He dips his hands beneath her thighs and stands, taking her with him. She wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him close, in passion or for comfort he’s not sure, but he’ll take either one. He kicks open the bathroom door and turns on the shower, all while holding her. Her mouth finds his neck. His lips brush her shoulder. When the water warms, he steps them both beneath it then places her feet on the tiles before he drops to his knees. Her head arches back into the spray, erasing the evidence of her tears as he kisses his way down her stomach. He wants to take away her pain. He wants to ease the ache. And if he can’t do that with words yet, then he’ll do it the only way she’ll allow. So he lifts one of her legs over his shoulder, grips her by the hips, and makes her cry in a better way, not stopping until the sounds of her pleas echo across the shower as her fingers dig into his skin and she forgets everything but the sound of his name on her lips.
When they’re done and dry and back in bed, he holds her. She drifts off to sleep in his arms but he keeps his gaze on the window, his eyes peeled toward dawn. He’s got this feeling as though if he relaxes for one moment, if he surrenders even for a second, she’ll slip away.
And that’s exactly what she does.
One moment, it’s dark and she’s there. One moment, she’s his.
Then the sun is up and she’s gone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
sam
Disheveleddoesn’t even beginto describe the state Sam is in as she walks at an aggressively fast pace through the lobby of the resort at six in the morning. She’s wearing the same wrinkled clothes from the day before. Her hair is already falling out of its bun. Loose power cords dangle from her hastily assembled carry-on bag. And her overstuffed suitcase is only half-zipped because she didn’t have time to sit her ass on it to force the damn thing closed. If she forgot some of Emily’s clothes, so be it. She’ll buy her new ones. Sam had to get out of there. Fast. Dumb luck is the only reason she was able to sneak away before the cowboy woke up, and she’s not about to waste it by doing something completely idiotic like hanging around to say goodbye.
No lips. No tomorrow.
That was the agreement.
So what if it was the best sex of her life?
So what if Cooper seemed to see right into the depths of her soul?
So what if she’d never felt more at peace than when she was wrapped up tight in the warmth of his arms?
She has a job. She has a life. She has things she needs to accomplish. She can’t give all of that up to run off with a cowboy. She won’t make some guy her entire world. He has his ranch. She has her city. And never the two shall meet, once she gets the hell off this island and back to reality.
“I need a boat,” she desperately blurts to the man working behind the front desk. “Any boat. It doesn’t matter. I just need to get to the airport as soon as possible. My original transfer time isn’t for a few hours, but something came up and I need to leave now.”
“Of course, miss,” he says amiably, obviously well-prepared for crazed patrons making demands at all hours of the day. “Let me see what I can do.”
He dials a number and speaks softly to whoever is on the other end of the line. Sam drums her fingers on the countertop. She bounces her leg. She doesn’t mean to be so rude, but she can’t help it. Her skin is crawling with the need to get out of Dodge, because she knows the second Cooper realizes she’s gone, he’ll come running.
She saw it in his eyes the night before.
Mine, they whispered.You’re all mine.
In the moment, she was euphoric.
Now, she’s moving faster than a bat out of hell.
“Miss Peters, you’re in luck,” the clerk says jovially as he hangs up the phone. “There’s an airport transfer leaving now. The two guests on board agreed to wait for you if you—”
“Em? Is that you?”
Nina.
Fuck.
Not bothering to hear what else the clerk has to say, Sam murmurs a hasty thank-you and pushes off the desk. She dips her head and grips her bag tighter, as if she can use the leather tote as a shield. But the producer is far too astute.
“Em! Wait up!”
How ’bout no.
She hightails it through the open-air lobby and back into the soft light of dawn, then cuts a sharp left toward the docks.
“Em!”
