Page 48 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Seventeen

The first opportunity I get the next day, wearing a fresh coat of what Sam calls my goth lip gloss, I summon my courage to visit him. Of course, I have to wait until after lunch because Sally-Anne didn’t make it in this morning. Gastro is making its way through her household.Gross.

My heart pounds harder with every step I take. Regardless of the outcome, I need to know where Sam and I stand. Being in limbo and over-analysing the ‘what ifs’ will only drive me crazy.

As I knock softly on his door, a set of lazy blue eyes glance up at me from a cosy position between the sheets. On cue, butterflies whip around in my stomach. My feet itch to step back but I coax them forward. “Hey,” I say as I approach, closing the door most of the way.

A smile tugs at his lips. Sunlight gleams into the room, highlighting the stubble on his jaw. “Hey, there,” he says in a teasing tone.

The fact that he’s in a good mood catches me off guard. Maybe the odds are looking upwards of thirty-three and a third percent.

“So, I kissed you,” I blurt out, and search his eyes for a sign of what he’s thinking.

“Yup,” he says, popping the P. “You did.”

“That’s no big deal, right?” I place a hand to my hip, pushing it out to the side.

Sam’s brows draw together. He crooks a finger, inviting me to come closer. My lead feet shuffle across the floor until I reach his side.

“Why do you say that?” he probes.

“Because …”Use your words, Jane.

“You kiss someone like that with your sweet mouth, and you’re telling me that’s nothing?”

Sheesh. He should be the one writing romance, not me.

“What are you gonna do about it?” The words spill from my mouth. I’m mimicking Janice. I shake my head. That’s not me, and it’s certainly not how I wanted to approach this.Breathe. Channel Hannah. “I mean, what did you think? Honestly.”

“It took me by surprise.”

I tilt my head to the side, trying to gauge him. “A good surprise?” I ask in a higher-pitched tone.

“Yeah, Janie.”

My heart thrashes in my chest, but then my thoughts take over—all the variables of the hows and whens. “I just …” I draw in a deep breath and perch on the edge of the bed.

Sam offers me his hand. I shuffle up and take it in mine. He slides his other arm around my waist. This simple touch has my pulse racing. I take shallow breaths, trying to hide how much his touch affects me, makes me want to forget where I am.

“You just wanna do it again? You can say it,” he says, his voice rough.

I rest my forehead against his. “Sam,”' I say and sigh. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me to his chest.

“Don’t think, Janie. Life is short. Kiss the boy.”

I stare into his blue orbs, searching. Searching for a sign.

“Do it,”he mouths. His tongue darts out and wets his lower lip.

Life is short. Life is fleeting. But love is everlasting, and that’s worth taking a chance on, whatever challenges we may face.

I dive in. Lips first.

As our mouths connect, heat radiates through me, fighting against the goosebumps that roll over my body. His stubble grazes against my skin. Warm hands wander up my sides. My fingers ache with the need to touch him, wandering down his chest over the taut surface of his stomach.

Each soft movement of our lips, our tongues, blocks out everything else. Inhibitions become non-existent. His fingers tangle at the hair at my nape, holding me with a strength that forces air to rush from my lungs and out my nose.

It’s never been like this with anyone. No man has ever kissed me with such abandon. It’s as if this kiss might be his last.

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