Lose Control (The Jewel Project #5)

33.1|| Too Much Love Will Kill You

"I... I didn't... We..."

Yeah, that was about right. But there was something in her eyes, a flicker of desire that had him bending closer and closer.

"Sam," she breathed, but it sounded like an invitation.

"All you have to do is say no," he whispered back.

"Why would I?"

That was enough for him. He closed the space between them and his lips found hers. They were familiar in their shape and softness and tasting them again gave him a high he never wanted to come down from. But while last night their kisses had been tender and tame, this time there was fire.

She sunk her hands in his hair, and he pressed closer to her, grabbed her thighs and placed her on top of the counter. This was even better than what they'd been doing last night. She pulled the t-shirt out of his jeans and snuck her hands to touch his back, his stomach. It drove him up the wall.

He moved away from her mouth, kissing her cheek, her jaw, going behind her ear. The little moan she let out had him pulling her sweater up, touching her back.

"Sam," she breathed again, except this time it sounded like a no.

With his head filled with wool and barely registering what was going on, he pulled away from her.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No, don't be sorry," she said, her voice a little strangled. "It's just... Maybe we should just be more careful of our surroundings."

Yeah, that too. "Good point. I just wanted to..."

"Make sure last night wasn't a dream?" she asked shrewdly.

"Pretty much."

"Good, I was afraid it was a dream for a while as well."

Sam smirked and left her to it, returning the little energy and attention he had left to making sure they reached Chicago safely. So while Skye packed their stuff, he checked the train again and they spent the reminder of the journey in the restaurant cart, discussing their assignment.

Even if he wanted to take in every word coming out of her mouth, half of the little attention Sam was still capable of focused on what had happened, on the happiness filling his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't had a hole in his chest.

Now there was just overwhelming heat and the sense that the world made sense again. Bad things happened, but the tables turned and happiness was possible again. And what he loved most was that there was no awkwardness between them, no guilt, no games.

They reached Chicago without incident and took a cab, first to her place, then his. When they reached her apartment building, he helped her with her luggage and gave her a short kiss before hopping back in.

He really liked kissing her. Really liked her. Everything about her. And who gave a fuck if it was projection or whatever? The feelings were real. She made him happy. He only hoped his happy haze wouldn't disappear once he got some sleep.

♠️

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Once in the safety of her apartment, everything she'd done wrong came crashing down on Skye like an avalanche.

It had been so easy to pretend while they'd been away, act as if it was a temporary thing, confined to their adventure. At least that was what she'd told herself to justify kissing Sam one more time, touching him, talking to him like nothing had happened.