“Anyone with a set of half-functioning eyes can see how those two feel about each other.” His dad shrugs. “Love doesn’t always have a neat and tidy timeline, son. It’s complicated and messy and frankly, doesn’t care what other people think. If I didn’t think Samson was good for Stella—if I for even one second doubted his intentions with her—he wouldn’t have been allowed to come around. Plain and simple. But sometimes… sometimes two people are just meant for each other and that’s all there is to it.”
Michael rounds the island and wraps his son in a bear hug. “I think you need to take a step back and think long and hard why you’re so mad.” He releases him and heads for the back door. “I’d hate to see you throw away y’all’s friendship over something that’s a good thing.”
The kitchen is silent, save for the sound of the back door shutting. We’re both stewing, only willing to see things from our own point of view, and I know if I’m not the one to bow, there’s a very real chance our friendship could break.
“I’m sorry.”
“For which part?” he asks, settling onto the stool next to me.
“For not telling you from the start.” I prop my elbows on the island and angle my head toward his. “I’ll never apologize for loving Stella.”
He mulls over my words for a minute. “You really love her?”
“With all that I am.”
“Then… I guess I’m good with it.” He pins me with a hard glare. “I don’t like that you went behind my back or that you lied to me, but Dad’s right. You’re good for her. And she’s good for you.”
I visibly deflate as relief courses through me. “Thanks, man.”
“But if you hurt her…” Orion slings his arm around my neck, clamping his hand down hard on my shoulder. “I’ll fucking end you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Stella
“Is it dumb that I’m nervous?” I ask Samson, finishing my eyeliner in the mirror.
“Nothing to be nervous about. Tonight’s going to be great.”
I recap the pencil and stash my spare makeup bag in his bathroom cabinet—because apparently, we’re at the spare drawer and half the countertop stage of our relationship; a fact that secretly makes me giddy.
“But what if he’s not really okay with us? What if it’s awkward? What if—”
Samson wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to go out and meet your brother for dinner. We’re going to gorge ourselves on pizza and have a good time, and then…” he trails off, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin at the crook of my neck.
“Then what?”
“Then we’re going to come home and I’m going to eat your sweet little pussy for dessert.”
A shiver of arousal races through me at his dirty words. I push my ass into his groin, my panties already damp with my desire.
“Get dressed, Stella, or we’ll be late.”
“So?” I raise a brow at him in our reflection in the mirror.
He skims one hand up my body and beneath the silk of my robe to cup my breast, while the other sneaks between my legs.
“So wet already.” He rubs his finger over the front of my panties, rubbing my clit through the drenched fabric.
“Samson,” I moan his name, desperate for him to push the material to the side, so I can feel him, flesh on flesh, but he never does. Nope. He just rubs and rubs at me until I’m ready to combust.
“Please,” I beg wantonly, rolling my hips the best I can in the stupid walking boot the ortho gave me. “I need you. I want to feel you. For you to make me come.”
He groans and rubs me harder, faster, and I swear to God, I can feel the start of my orgasm. I’m so close, I just need a little more… something. “Oh, God, Samson.”
My legs shake with need. “A little more. I’m almost—”
“Not yet,” he says, stepping completely away from me.
“What?” I cry, frantic for the release he’s just denied me.
“Be a good girl, get dressed, and let’s go to dinner.”
“Samson!” I’d stomp my foot if I thought I could manage it. “You’re seriously not going to finish what you started?”
“Not until after dinner.” He grins darkly, promising me pure pleasure if I play by his rules.
But I’ve spent my entire life following other people’s rules, and I’m more than ready to make my own. “Fine. I’ll finish myself then.”
“The hell you will!”
I whirl around and lean back against the counter, trying for casual despite the twinge in my ankle—and the lustful inferno lighting me up from the inside out—and untie the sash to my robe.
His eyes turn molten as he takes in my bare breasts and tiny lace panties.
With my eyes locked on his, I tease myself over the top of my panties, before sliding my hand beneath the soaking wet material.