I studied him in the darkness of the truck cab. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, and several moments passed. “You remembering what happened is dangerous. I don’t like to think that whoever was responsible is someone close to you, but if that person knew you were starting to piece together that night…”
I swallowed, looking away. My memories were dangerous, but they were also the key to the truth. I shook my head as if I could shake off the fear starting to cling to my skin.
“And that’s not all,” he admitted after a few minutes.
“It’s not?”
Carson gave a slight smile. “I hate myself for even thinking this, because I know how important getting your memories back is, but if you get your memories back—”
“Will I be like I am now or like the old Sammy?” I finished for him, chagrined. “I don’t know, Carson. I like to think that, if anything, I’ve gotten a second chance at a personality improvement, and that won’t go away.”
He chuckled. “That’s good to hear.”
I bit my lip. “Will you still like me if I remember everything?”
His brows furrowed as he glanced at me. “Sam, I liked you before you lost your memories. You just didn’t see that.”
“I see it now,” I whispered. “And I’ll still see it, no matter what I remember.”
He flashed the smile that warmed me to the core as he pulled onto the road leading to our homes. I took a deep breath. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
The smile sort of froze on his lips, and even in the darkness, I could see the blue of his eyes deepening, becoming the color of a summer sky. “It’s my dad’s weekend off. He’s visiting his brother in Pittsburgh.”
Empty house? I swallowed again, but for a different reason. “Do you…want to hang out a little while longer?”
“Do you really need me to answer that?”
I gave a nervous laugh as my fingers started working on the beads sewn into my clutch. He parked the truck in his driveway. “Sit still.”
“Okay,” I said, curious.
Flashing me a quick grin, he hopped out of the truck and came around to my side, opening the door. Then he offered his hand with a bow. Just like that, most of my nervousness vanished as I placed my hand in his.
“I can’t remember the last time you were in my house,” he said as he unlocked the front door. “At least six years or so.”
“I spent a lot of time here, right?”
“Practically every day,” he said quietly.
Memories of our childhood together were locked away from me, but knowing that we shared that time calmed the rest of my anxiousness.
Carson’s house was dark and quiet. With his hand wrapped around mine, he guided me through the living room. I bumped into the back of a couch and then a small desk, sending several sheets of paper fluttering to the floor.
He led me to his bedroom, and my heart rate picked up. Letting go of my hand, he turned on a small lamp beside the bed. It wasn’t much light, but I could make out a small desk in the corner, a dresser with a bunch of clothes folded atop it. For a guy’s bedroom, it seemed awfully clean. I placed my clutch on his desk.
Carson shrugged out of his tux jacket and his shoes and socks, draping the jacket over the back of his chair. Not sure what to do, I took off my shoes and sighed with relief. My poor toes were killing me.
Turning off the lamp, he moved back to me and stopped short. “We didn’t get enough dances.”
“No, we didn’t.”
He snaked an arm around my waist, lifting me up so my feet were on top of his bare ones. I laughed as he started to sway, moving both of us in a silent rhythm. “Is this making up for it?”
“Yes.” I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “I like this better.”
“Why? Because Scott’s not here to be a douche?”
I laughed. “One of the reasons.”
His hand squeezed mine. “Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?”
My smile grew to epic proportions. “You did, but you can tell me again if you want.”
Carson’s laugh rumbled through me, and his other hand pressed on the small of my back, bringing us closer together. Our chests met, as did our h*ps and every other place. A flush started to spread down my throat.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered in my ear, his hand moving up my spine to rest at the nape of my neck.
I lifted my head, pulling back so I could see his face. With only the light of the moon flowing in through the window above his bed, he almost didn’t look real to me. Slowly, I reached up and placed my palm on his cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He didn’t smile, but his eyes took on a hooded, lazy quality that tightened my stomach muscles. The longing in his stare matched what I felt inside, increased the yearning until I could hardly stand the intensity.
“Are you finally going to kiss me?” I asked, dizzy with anticipation, want, and a thousand other things.
One side of his mouth tipped up. “Maybe.”
I leaned in, breathing the same air as him. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Me neither,” he teased, his chest rising unsteadily against mine. Letting go of my hand, he cupped my cheek, running his thumb along my jaw. My hand fluttered to his chest, and his heart was pounding as fast as mine.
And when his head lowered, the sheer look of passion in his eyes stole my breath. His mouth moved against my forehead, trailing a path down along my cheek. I shivered against him, my eyes drifting close. And finally his lips brushed mine questioningly, once and then twice. My lips parted in response, and the velvety, supple kiss deepened. His tongue moved against mine, as if he wanted to capture my very essence with a simple kiss.
He made a deep sound in the back of his throat, and my fingers dug into his crisp shirt. Everything fell away, and there was just him and me, the way he kissed, the way he held me against him, as if I was something precious and invaluable to him.
And then we were moving. His legs hit the edge of his bed, and he folded down, cradling me close to him. My knees were on either side of his hips, sinking into the mattress. Our kisses didn’t stop. Not once, not even when his fingers moved to the straps on my dress, slipping under them.
He paused, and when he spoke, his voice was thick. “You okay with this?”
“Yes.” I nodded, too, just in case the one word wasn’t enough.
Carson’s lips pressed against mine once more, and with shaky fingers, I undid the buttons on his shirt, pushing the sides over his shoulders. His skin was hot under my fingers, taut and smooth. My hands slid over his chest, down the ropy muscles of his stomach. Years of playing baseball had done him well.
All this felt like the first time for me, and I had a deep sense of gratitude for that because I wouldn’t have wanted to share this moment with anyone else. His lips left mine, traveling over my chin, down my throat.
“Samantha.” He said my name over and over again like it was a prayer or a curse. I wasn’t sure which it was, but every time he spoke, my heart turned over in a heady way.
A shudder rocked his body as I pressed a kiss to his forehead. In that moment, I knew he’d been waiting, wanting this for far longer than I could have ever imagined. A giddy rush followed, and I felt heavy and light in his arms, safe and cherished. I wanted to laugh, to slow down, to speed up, and to never, ever stop. My head was spinning when his fingers slid down my arms, bringing the straps along with them. His fingers found the tiny zipper on the back of my dress, slowing inching it down to my hips.
Carson eased me onto my back, raining kisses over my cheek, lips, throat, and shoulders. His hand drifted down my stomach and lower, lingering until I thought I’d come out of my skin. He curved a hand around my thigh, hooking my leg around his waist, and we moved against each other until we were breathless, covered in each other, drowning together.
Perfect—we were perfect together. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation or doubt. No nagging voice in the back of my head, and Carson had given me plenty of chances to pull the brakes, even before he stopped to grab protection.
“Are you sure?” he whispered against my lips.
“Yes.” The next words sort of just came right out of me in a breathless rush. “I love you.”
Carson stilled. I wasn’t sure he breathed in those following seconds, and maybe tomorrow I would kick myself in the face for saying those three words, but right now, I didn’t want to take them back, even if they were too much, too soon.
He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Say it again.”
“I love you.” My voice was louder, stronger. “I love you.”
Another second passed and then he brushed his lips across mine. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say those words.”
I pressed my palm to his cheek. “I did.”
He opened his eyes, and they locked on to mine. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you, Sam. Just as much as I love you right now.”
The infinite tenderness in his bright eyes brought tears to my own. I held them back, fearing he wouldn’t understand they weren’t sad tears. His body shook, and I wasn’t sure if it was out of relief or anticipation, and then I wasn’t really thinking anymore…or maybe I was thinking so much I couldn’t pinpoint one thought or one sensation. Part of me worried that the meds that had built up in my system would somehow dull everything, but they didn’t. It was so much, and it was all new to me, fresh and thrilling.
When things did slow down, my heart was still racing, my breath sawing in and out in a pleasant daze. Muscles weak, thoughts like big bowls of jelly, I smiled up at him.
He gave me a lopsided grin. His dark hair was damp against his forehead, curling slightly. “You okay?”
“Perfect,” I breathed.
Carson kissed me and then rolled onto his back, wiggling an arm around me and pulling me against his side so that my head rested on his chest. Each breath he took was ragged against my flushed cheek. “What do I have to do to persuade you to stay here?”
I giggled. “Not sure my parents would appreciate that come morning, but I can stay...” I paused, for the first time feeling uncertainty creep over me. “I mean, if you do really want me to stay for a little while longer.”
He turned his head toward me. “Sam, I don’t want you to leave. Ever. And I know you don’t want to leave.”
The stupid but wonderful swelling was back in my chest, and I could’ve floated right off that bed. “Okay.”
His throat worked as he watched me. “I wasn’t just saying shit before, Sam. I do love you—I have loved you. I hope you—”
“I meant it,” I said, tangling my fingers in his. “And I think…I think I felt this way before but never admitted it.”
Carson’s lips tipped up at the corners. We stayed in each other’s arms, talking about nothing important, laughing quietly, stopping to kiss and pausing to touch, losing ourselves for a little while longer and letting time slip by. I must’ve dozed off, because I knew I was dreaming. It had that hazy quality to it, almost real but not quite.
I was waiting outside the library at school, my head tipped back. Satisfaction poured off me, dampening the jealousy that simmered in my belly whenever I saw him even looking at Cassie after that party.
I had him and I was going to ruin him.
Footsteps sounded, and I opened my eyes, already smiling with anticipation. Carson stepped out, saying something to Dianna.
I bolted off the wall, stepping directly in front of him. “We need to talk.”
His bright blue eyes sharpened with wariness. He glanced at Dianna. “I’ll see you later.”
The girl nodded and quickly darted off. I smirked, cocking my head to the side. “How are you, Carson?”
“What do you want, Sam?” He started walking. “I’ve got things to do, and even though I’m sure this is going to be interesting, I don’t have time.”
My eyes narrowed at him. Jealousy was there, but so was anger. How could he always be so dismissive of me? Every guy in this damn school wanted me. Everyone but him.
“I know something,” I said.
He stopped just before the doors and rolled his eyes. “And…?”
“I know you’re paying Dianna.”
“Yep, for sex. You got me.”
I pressed my lips together, pissed that he wasn’t at all intimidated by me. Probably had to do with the fact that I’d spent the better part of my life running around shirtless with him and my brother. “I doubt you need to pay anyone for sex. Although I’m surprised you actually got with Cassie without her paying you.”
His eyes settled on me, steady and consuming. I loved and hated his eyes. “Is this what you wanted to talk about? The fact that I hooked up with Cassie months ago?”
“No.” My hands balled into fists. Jealousy was a bitch, but so was I. And I knew what I was about to do was so wrong, but I didn’t care. I just didn’t care. “But it has to do with the fact that you’re paying the daughter of your history teacher. Hmm...” I tapped my chin. “I wonder what for. Wait. Don’t you share that class with Cassie?”
Carson folded his arms. “Yeah, I do.”
“And she said that you’re failing that class. So I wonder what you could possibly be paying Dianna for.”
“Gee, I don’t know, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
Anger flushed my skin, sharpening my tongue. “I know you’re paying Dianna to get her little hands on her daddy’s tests and she’s helping you cheat.”