MY MIND WAS FILLED with thoughts of her body as I tried to sleep before the meeting. That was fine if Sam wanted to keep her distance or if I was some sort of a distraction to her or whatever. But a mistake? Hardly. I was never a mistake to women. They might have been a mistake to me, but I was never a mistake in their book. I treated them right, was attentive to their needs, kept tabs on their reactions in bed so I knew exactly what to give them, and made sure they were taken care of.
And Sam was no different.
I had a meeting to prepare for, but I couldn’t get our encounter off my mind. Samantha Williams, hard-ass rescuer and military extraordinaire, was a softie in bed. Small kisses and fluttering licks were all it took to diminish her to a gasping mess. Soft thrusts and cradling her body was what the big, bad woman enjoyed in bed. I never would’ve believed it had I not experienced it myself.
The problem was, I was more than ready to experience it again.
I prepared myself for the meeting as Sam stood in my living room. She was dressed in a pencil skirt with a button-down blouse that was tucked it and smoothed out. Her heels were tasteful, and her hair was up in a bun. She was the perfect vision of what a professional personal assistant would look like.
Complete with the detached personality.
She was cold and kept her distance most of the day. The meeting was boring, and instead of sitting next to me, she sat in the corner along with the rest of the personal assistants at the meeting. She took notes and scanned the room, and occasionally, her eyes would catch mine.
But before I could so much as grin at her, she would divert her gaze and go back to writing.
She played the personal assistant well. Didn’t speak unless spoken to and always had a few statistics up her sleeve to rattle off about the company. She did just enough to impress but not enough to garner her any sort of attention. She would be forgotten about by these men the moment the meeting was done.
Just like a personal assistant should’ve been.
It was disappointing, to say the least. I wanted her to open back up to me. I couldn’t just forget what had happened between us, no matter how much distance she wanted. What we shared was special. What she wanted in bed had been innocent, despite the debaucherous pleasure we had shared. She needed permission to feel good, to feel like a woman and to be doted on by a real man.
That struck a chord with me, and no matter what I tried, I couldn’t forget it.
I couldn’t forget the way she had tried holding herself back, muffling her sounds with her teeth and halting the movement of her hips. I had to move her hips against my tongue just to get her going. Like pleasure wasn’t something she could afford. It wasn’t until I granted her my muffled permission from the folds of her lovely pussy that she let go and enabled herself to feel like nothing other than the striking woman she was.
It was odd and, yet, somehow fitting to who she was.
After the meeting, we went straight back to the rooms. She diverted to her room without a word, and I shuffled into mine. Things were tense between us, to say the least. But I didn’t want it to stay that way. Even if things simply went back to the witty banter we always had going, I would take that over what was going on now.
I would take that over this awkward and silent interaction we were experiencing.
“Knock, knock.”
I knocked on our shared room door before I opened it. Sam was hunched over the files I’d given her on the plane, making notes in the margins and keeping her phone close to her.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I’m heading down to the Vegas strip. Wanna come?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“Well, heading out for the evening. Room service is on me if you get hungry.”
“You can’t go anywhere without my accompaniment.”
“And I’m not staying cooped up in a hotel when Vegas is calling me. It’s your choice, Miss Williams. You can stay here and leave me vulnerable, or you can come with me and do your job.”
Her eyes flashed up toward mine, a searing heat behind them as her pen stilled.
“There’s already been one technical threat already,” I said. “With Gretchen and all. She was sent here to embarrass me.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
“See, you’re already slipping. You didn’t even ask me about my interaction with her.”
“I determined she wasn’t a physical threat, so I left.”
“A physical threat, no. But a threat? Yes.”