Page 67 of Wicked Temptation

Samson’s story completely captivated her that she’d forgotten his accusations about Edward.

“I feel like we’re getting a second chance not many get, and I have no intention of giving you up again.”

Lisbeth twisted the sheets in her fist. “I have so much to figure out.”

“Whether you know it or not, you made me see a different life when we were together. You grounded me and made me think I could have something better. Then it all fell apart. I knew turning you away was best for you.”

“It certainly didn’t feel that way. I can honestly say you were the first man to break my heart, but I suppose I should thank you in a way. Because of you, I was more determined than ever to succeed. I moved to LA and never looked back.”

“Leaving you wrecked me too. For a long time, I lived as though every day was my last. The money we started raking in at the Oasis was crazy, and I blew through it as fast as I earned it. I was dropping ten grand at a Craps table in Atlantic City and five grand at clubs in South Beach. It was like a dream for a kid who had nothing, but none of it meant anything. That life sucks you in and spits you out, but if you’re lucky, you hit the other side alive.”

“Looks like you beat those odds,” she said.

She’d always envied Samson’s free spirit, his careless abandon. Lisbeth had seen it as freedom when it was just a different kind of prison. Hearing about the seamier side of his life made it all too real. It made her question their compatibility. Maybe their reality and life experiences were too different, too diverse.

He rearranged the pillows behind his back. “Just so you know, I gave up the hard drugs a long time ago, and I got no intentions of ever going back to that shit.”

* * *

Samson said the words to Lisbeth for himself as much as for her because it was a promise he could easily keep. Coke almost destroyed him, and if it wasn’t for Nick and even Frank setting him straight and making him pull his head out of his ass, he’d surely be another statistic in the cemetery.

“You’ve been through so much.” Lisbeth leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. When she hugged him, all the pain fell away. Her acceptance of his past and faith in him warmed Samson in a way he’d never known. The freedom to reveal his truths without guilt or judgment was liberating and assured him they had a chance.

“And I finally understand your reasoning for breaking my heart.”

He bit his lower lip. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

Lisbeth cupped his face with her palm. “Yes, I forgive you.”

Long-lost euphoria zipped through him, a sensation he’d only ever felt with Lisbeth. She’d forgiven him for hurting her in the worst way, and now maybe they could move forward together and have the life he’d only imagined.

“C’mere.” He opened his arms, and she snuggled into his side. The warmth of her body filled him up, and for now, that would have to be enough.

He shifted, and her back stiffened. “I just want you near me.”

“And I want to be close to you, too, but until I get this straight with Edward, I can’t do any—”

Samson put his forefinger to her lips, then rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m not gonna deny when we came in here, all I could think about was getting balls deep inside you, but I get it.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s been a long fuckin’ night, and right now, I just wanna close my eyes and feel your sweet body all tight and warm next to me.”

* * *

For at least an hour, Lisbeth listened to Samson’s deep, even breathing while she lay awake next to the man who broke her heart in the worst way, her mind spinning in a never-ending loop of questions peppered with guilt. To her credit, she hadn’t given in to sex. She tilted her head toward the view of his colorful, tatted chest and marveled at how his muscles rose and fell with each breath.

Yes, kudos to her for not succumbing to Samson’s lascivious, sinful grin or the hard planes of his body. Back in Brooklyn, all he had to do was twitch his lips, and her pulse kicked up as her panties dampened. She’d given up the surging passion they’d experienced for Edward’s more sedate constant love. Whether Samson’s claims about the Monroes were valid or not, he was right about one thing—if she’d truly been in love with Edward, Samson’s advances wouldn’t have affected her.

Lisbeth peered at her beautiful diamond ring in the jewelry dish on her bedside table. Then her gaze flitted to the digital clock—five a.m. At a more civil hour, she’d call Edward and tell him she was flying to LA. There was no sense in putting off the inevitable, and she owed him the honesty of her feelings.

The tension and stress of what lay ahead and Samson’s horrendous accusations played havoc with her stomach. She glanced at the clock again and reasoned it might be too early to call Edward but not Willow. Her assistant always bragged about how little sleep she needed to function, so Lisbeth decided to put her theory to the test. She slowly eased out from underneath Samson’s arm and inched her way to the edge of the mattress.

“Hey.” His thick, sleep-laden voice filled the room as his muscled arm circled her waist. “Where you goin’?”

“I’ll be right back.” She unwound Samson’s arm, then admired how the corded tendons of his shoulders shifted as he burrowed into the pillow. Lisbeth drew a deep breath, forcing herself to move off the bed, then grabbed her phone off the nightstand, slipped her robe over her shoulders, and headed for the living room.

She kept the lights off, using the backlight on her phone, and swiped at Willow’s number. The phone rang four times as Lisbeth’s grip tightened around the device—then finally connected.

---