I gag a little at the texture—it’s thick and creamy and a little salty. But I force myself to swallow it down, wanting to please him.
“Luna,” he breathes my name and then he does something that shocks the hell out of me—he kisses me. I literally just had his come in my mouth, and now his tongue is there instead.
Not that I’m complaining, but I definitely figured he’d want me to brush my teeth or something. But nope, he’s kissing me like I’m his lifeline. Which is fitting because despite all of the history between us, he’s definitely mine.
After what feels like an eternity, he breaks away from me. “You are…” He pauses and I worry I did something wrong.
“I’m what?” I ask, hating the hint of vulnerability that creeps into my tone.
“Perfect, Luna. You’re perfect.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. “What’s… what’s this mean for… us?” I ask, righting my robe.
“You’re mine.”
“And you, you’re mine too?”
Samson nods decisively.
“Does that mean we can talk to my brother?”
He stiffens at the mention of Orion, and my hopes and heart plummet. “Stella, it’s not that I don’t want him to know. I just… I think we need some time together. Just the two of us.”
I leap from the bed, wrapping my robe tightly around me. “We’ve had years!”
He stands too and reaches for me, but I take a step back. “Stella,” Samson growls my name, but I just glare. “Listen to me, dammit!”
“Listen to what?” I shout. “Listen to you give me some lame-ass excuse? I won’t be your dirty little secret, Samson Carter!”
Samson advances toward me, and I retreat, until he has me pinned against my desk. He cups my cheek and holds my eyes on his. “I don’t want you to be a secret, Stella. I just want some time that’s just ours.”
“We’ve had time,” I say, tears stinging my eyes.
“I mean time like this, time where we’re allowed to touch, to explore, to love. I want time with the woman you are now. Nine months may not seem like long, but you… you fucking blossomed into this sexy, bold woman, and I…”
“You what?”
“I want time with her. With us, only us, alone. Not because you’re a secret, but because I’m a selfish fucker, and don’t want to share you. With anyone. Not even your family. You’re mine, Stella.”
I sniffle. “You promise?”
He draws an ‘X’ over his heart. “I swear.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Stella
“Oh my God!” I jump up from the couch when Emmy barrels into our suite. Samson left a few hours ago, and I’ve been sitting here ever since. I’m so caught up in my own problems that I don’t even notice the steam practically pouring from her ears Looney Tunes style. “We have so much to discuss!”
“That, we do,” Emmy says, wiping her palms against her pants.
“Starting with why your cheeks are so flushed. And why you’re wearing a man’s shirt.”
“Um.” She plops down onto the couch, shamelessly claiming my spot as her own. “Well.”
“Don’t you um, well me, babe. I need deets. I spent half the night worried sick about you, you know?”
“Only half?” she asks, and even though her tone is light, a spike of guilt nearly steals my breath away.
Am I an awful friend? My worry over Emmy’s out-of-character behavior last night simply slipped away the second Samson showed up.
I didn’t even text her to check in—nope, I just let her leave the party tipsy, and with Sterling no less. The man has been nothing but awful to her since the semester started.
Instead of apologizing for being a crappy friend, I turn the focus back to her. “We’ll get to that.”
“Okay, fine.” She takes a deep breath. “I might have just told Melanie off on my way up.”
“What?” I’m torn between throwing her a celebratory party for standing up for herself and putting our monster of an RA in her place and flinging myself down onto the couch next to her to demand more details.
My need for the nitty-gritty wins out, and I plop down beside her. A hiss of pain escapes me as my bottom meets the stiff cushion. Gah, I knew losing my virginity would hurt, but no one mentioned it would still feel like this the day after!
“Are you okay?”
I can feel my cheeks heat under her concerned stare. “Mmhmm. Totally fine.”
“You sure?” She tilts her head to the side, assessing me with a shrewd gaze.
“Totally fine. Just a little sore.”
“Why?”
“After we finish talking about you.” I pin her with a look. “About Sterling.”
“We talked,” she says with a dreamy sigh. “About everything.”
Emmy proceeds to tell me all of the details about her night—from drinking to Sterling taking care of her and all of the extras in between.
“Stell, I think… I think he believes me now. Like for real. At first, I wasn’t sure if he was faking nice or what, but after last night and this morning, I think he means it.”