Mercedes took it easy the next day and Sam gave her space. She kept shooting him measured looks and he would return them with a smile. He knew she was trying to figure out if alcohol had affected her hearing or he'd been truthful, but this was a conversation meant for sober minds and privacy.

When they went out that night, Mercedes boycotted the hard drinks and Sam followed suit. He was finally ready to put up or shut up, and he didn't want Mercedes to "blame it" on the alcohol. As it were, sobriety definitely didn't do him any favors in that regard, for her dancing was even more alluring now than it'd been when Captain Morgan had guided her moves.

"Are you sure you're in love with her?" Carlos groaned sarcastically into his gin and tonic.

Sam didn't even dignify that with a response.

"Then you should go out there with her instead of mean-mugging any dude who gets within eighty feet of her."

Sam smirked and set down his Mountain Dew. "That's the smartest thing you've said…ever…"

"Kiss my ass, Evans."

"Not your ass I'm interested in," Sam murmured, watching Mercedes dip it low and bring it back up slow. He almost growled at some of the other admirers she had, but she didn't notice because she was too busy laughing it up with the girlfriends of the crew. Juvenile's "Slow Motion" came on, an oldie but a goodie, and Mercedes' hips did the most indecent figure eight Sam had ever seen. Groaning low in his throat, Sam came right up behind her and pressed his crotch right into her ass, mimicking her roll. She tensed, but Sam placed gentle hands on her hips and kissed the hinge of her jaw.

"It's just me," he whispered, knowing she heard despite the loud music shouting of the other clubbers.

"Sam…"

"Don't get shy on me now," Sam said, grinning against her damp skin. She'd stopped dancing, but he used his hips and hands to get her moving again. "C'mon, Vixen, show me how you do."

"You ain't ready, Memphis," Mercedes challenged.

Sam chuckled low and licked away a tendril of sweat next to her ear. "Try me, boo."

Mercedes moaned softly, but then she ground her ass into his crotch and he immediately came to attention. She gasped and looked at him over her shoulder, then settled her lips into a grin.

"Well, hallelujah amen, Mr. Evans," Mercedes crooned, grinding even more against him. "You give the phrase 'big man on campus' an entirely different meaning."

Sam bit his bottom lip and let his eyes go dark, bringing her flush against him with his large, wide palm settled right above her pelvic bone. "I'll be more than willing to help you get better acquainted with the definition."

Mercedes whimpered, bringing her arm behind her to wrap around his hips. Sam kept his face buried in her neck, inhaling her salty-sweet scent, licking and kissing her damp skin, panting and moaning in her ear as her ass made him harder and harder. Feeling bold, Sam allowed his hand to slide south, glad she was wearing another short minidress (tangerine) and stilettos (red) this time so she was just tall enough for what he wanted to do.

But she gripped his wrist. "Where are you going?"

"To heaven," Sam whispered, tugging on her earlobe.

"And how you know that's not really hell?" Mercedes sassed, now looking over her shoulder at him again.

Sam grinned and brushed his nose against hers even as he took both their hands underneath the hem of her dress. "Because you're my angel, Mercedes."

The thong she wore was already soaked. Sam lightly kissed her nose as he made both of their fingers slide the crotch aside to caress the slick softness underneath. Mercedes hissed and sank against him, her hips now focused on their hands instead of his crotch.

By this point the song had changed, but Sam was focused on the melody of Mercedes' gasps and sighs. She was so damn soft, so damn wet, so damn hot, and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees and worship her with his mouth.

She started trembling, and Sam used his free hand to anchor her to him. "You comin' for me, Vixen?"

"Sam," she whispered, her eyes dragging closed.

"Flood my hand, baby; it's a big hand, and I want it drenched," he commanded, sliding two fingers in her tight, sopping heat.

She wasn't stingy with her offering. Sam gathered her scream in his mouth, his free hand bending her head backwards to accomplish the feat. After she finished, Mercedes yanked her head away and panted heavily, Sam still patting her swollen mound to bring her gently from her high.

With shaky hands, Mercedes opened her clutch and pulled out a wet wipe, tearing open the package before using it between her legs and over their hands. Sam nibbled on the upper curve of her ear and tsked.

"I wanted to suck you off me," he whispered.

"Maybe some other time," she replied, spinning toward him and squeezing his hard cock through his pants before sauntering off with the rest of the girlfriends. Sam smirked at the extra pep in her step, liking this one far better than the last time she'd walked away from him.

Stomped.

Sam knew Mercedes had expected him to pounce on her the moment they were alone in their room after their night on the town, given the wary glances she sent his way, but he found renewed patience after their interlude on the dance floor. She found him attractive; she found him sexy; and he was certain he was no longer "brother" material. But she needed time to resolve that within herself, and he wouldn't rush it.

"Was that reckless enough for you?" he asked once they were both in their beds. He was only in his boxers and she was in her tank and shorts with a bright scarf over her head. She'd cussed a blue streak about forgetting it last night; but the high ponytail she'd had to rock that day and evening had looked nice in his opinion.

There was a streetlamp right outside their window, and it created black lines across her face. She smiled at him sweetly.

"You got some fingers on you, Memphis," she said.

"All the better to throw a football with," Sam replied with a shrug. "And the best to make you come with."

Mercedes hid her face in her arm, only her eyes visible. They glinted in the pale gray light and Sam wished they were sharing a bed…naked…sweaty…post-coital.

"I needed that nut," she said.

"I can give you more."

"With that big dick of yours?"

Said dick turned steel. "Yep."

"Now?"

"Nope."

She frowned. "Why not?"

He started stroking himself unconsciously, but didn't stop when her eyes fixated on him. He pulled back the covers so she could get an unfettered look, and her licking her bottom lip had him groaning.

"Let me?"

"Let you what?" he ground out.

"Return the favor," she said, getting out of her bed and sitting on his next to his legs. With their eyes locked, Mercedes covered her small hand over his and let him guide the strokes. She dropped hers to watch her task, but Sam remained staring at her face. She seemed fascinated and very aroused, and that made him smile a little.

"You don't, do you?" he asked.

"Don't what?"

"See me as a brother."

Her hand tightened around his, and Sam slid his from underneath hers to caress his balls. Mercedes' tongue got stuck in the corner of her mouth and her breathing deepened.

"Maybe."

"Why would you try to say that, then?"

"Only people that damn possessive over me was my daddy and my brother, so I figured that's what you were; or that's how you saw me."

"Shane wasn't possessive?"

She shook her head. "I didn't mind it, really. I got lucky; I've heard enough horror stories about jealous, possessive boyfriends—"

His hand clamped around hers and their eyes met again. "No, those are abusive boyfriends," Sam clarified. "I'd never raise a harmful hand to you, Mercedes."

"I know."

"And I know Shane never did."

She laughed without humor. "Shane would be in traction to this day if he ever had," Mercedes said cockily. "Between my daddy and brother—"

"And me," Sam interrupted, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "He'd be on life support in traction after we were done."

Her smile turned soft. "See? Family."

Sam sat up and leaned forward until their lips brushed each other. He started their stroking of his cock again, and closed the space between them until his teeth closed around her full bottom lip.

"There are other family units," he said around her lip, their hands pumping his cock even faster now. "Like husband and wife—"

"Shit—"

"But that never occurred to you?" he asked.

Mercedes didn't respond, freeing her lip from his teeth to ghost it along his cheek. She tightened her hand around him and jerked hard, and he grunted, releasing over their joined hands and the bedspread.

"Yeah."

"Fuck," he whispered, swallowing thickly. She didn't release him, didn't stop stroking him, didn't stop trailing her lips along his skin. "With me?"

"Early," she said. "Before I figured out that was a bad road to travel."

Sam pulled back slightly. "Why?"

"Because it was silly," she murmured against his skin. "Having a crush on the first guy who was nice to me—did that before; he turned out to be gay—"

"Kurt." Kurt Hummel was another friend of Mercedes' from high school. Sam liked him just fine except every time they met up, Kurt would try to give him a makeover to "practice" for his career as a stylist if his shot at Broadway never panned out. It was disconcerting, but Sam took it in stride, knowing that was Kurt's way of bonding and taking the piss out of him.

"Yes."

"I'm not gay."

"No; but you're not supposed to be interested in me—at least not really."

"Says who?"

"Everybody," Mercedes said on a sigh, allowing him to tangle his fingers with hers as they continued the languid caress of his cock. It was more exploratory than anything now, but Sam knew it would only be a few more minutes until he was aroused again. And since he sensed they were on the brink of a heavy conversation, he removed their hands from his dick so he could balance them on his upper thigh.

"That's silly, Mercedes."

"Not silly," she challenged. "All those girls you dated—none of them were big girls like me, and most of them were light or white girls."

"None of them were you," Sam said. "I wasn't going for a knockoff if I couldn't have the real thing." He lifted her hand and sucked his ejaculate from her fingers. "I didn't want a poor man's Mercedes Jones. Sorry I'm not sorry."

"Quinn isn't a poor man's anything. She's first class."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, but I wasn't interested in her lesson enough."

Mercedes caressed his full lips after he finished sucking them, keeping quiet for a few beats. "Shane wasn't you, either."

"But he was good to you."

"Yes, he was."

"You could've married him."

She inhaled deeply and looked away. "Probably. Yeah."

"Could you marry me?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and tried to free her hand from his grip, but Sam stubbornly held on. He could—hell, if Mercedes wanted reckless, he'd take her to the justice of the peace tomorrow and be as reckless as they could get. But then Pop Jones would punt him like a football, and that was after Dwight Evans dribbled him like a soccer ball.

And he didn't want to even think of what their moms would do!

"It's too soon for this conversation," Mercedes finally said.

"Not to me. We know each other's good, bad, and ugly and we still love each other."

Sam stated it as fact, something that made Mercedes snap her attention to him with wide eyes and dropped jaw. He grinned, squeezing her fingers. "We don't need to be in a romantic relationship to be in love with each other."

"Who said I was in love with you?"

Sam chuckled. "You are."

She rolled her eyes and final freed her hand, going back over to her bed. She lay down with her back to him.

As if he minded the view.

When daylight arrived, Mercedes did her level best to keep her distance. Sam allowed this, knowing his bold proclamation had scared her shitless. Admittedly, it'd taken him a good hour to fall asleep himself, surprised he'd had the courage to even admit what he had, but he'd had to seize his opportunity before someone else did. He'd let too many years go by with Shane; he wasn't interested in a repeat of that at all.

He'd asked her to put on sunblock lotion before they hit the beach, smirking when, after a moment's hesitation, she complied with his request. Her soft hands had been tentative, even clinical, before she'd forgotten herself and used the sunblock application as an excuse to feel him up. He hadn't bothered to hide his erection from her, either, wanting her to know even with her just caressing his back and torso he was completely affected by her.

"Need me to return the favor?" he'd asked, his green eyes snapping electric fire.

Mercedes had grunt-grumbled a refusal and ran into the bathroom to change.

Once they'd arrived at the beach, Mercedes had parked herself in a beach chair underneath an umbrella while wearing a large floppy hat and shades. She had her Nook out and was reading—at least, that was what she'd wanted people to think. But Sam knew she'd been watching him play chicken with some of the girls in their group, football on the beach with the boys, and even befriended a nearby beachgoer's dog. Eventually, Mercedes had given up all pretenses and put down her Nook, then approached him while he still frolicked with the dog.

"Got yourself a new friend, I see," she said by way of greeting.

The dog, a chocolate lab pup, bounded over to her and placed her paws on Mercedes' knees, barking her own hello. Mercedes cooed and gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears before her owner called her away. Sam watched Mercedes gaze after the dog and they both waved at the owner, laughing when owner and dog raced to the ocean. Sam looked back at Mercedes, who still stared after the dog.

"Walk with me?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Any and everywhere," he replied.

She did turn to him then, a shy smile on her face, and began walking.

Sam kept his hands to himself, though he had to hold them behind his back to resist temptation. Mercedes was wearing a green, '50s-style halter swimsuit with a hot pink sarong that only covered her hips. She stared at her feet or far out ahead of her, either missing or ignoring the appreciative glances being thrown her way. Sam made sure to walk close enough that everyone knew he was with her, but not enough to crowd her. He knew she was gathering her thoughts and he wouldn't pressure her about that.

"Merce?"

She glanced at him, then adjusted course so they were out of the beach crowd and near the street. She then rested her hands on his hips, right along the band of his swim trunks. She peered at him, he feeling it despite her shades obstructing his view of her eyes, and he gently covered her hands with his own.

"Let's have a date tonight. Just us," she said softly, her voice almost lost in the din of excited shouts and waves.

He nodded. "I can do that."

She slipped her fingers underneath the band but didn't go further south, as if bracing herself. Sam caressed her from her wrists to her elbows in soothing sweeps, and Mercedes sighed, resting her forehead against his chest.

"This is freaking me out."

"Yeah?"

"I'm convinced this is a dream."

"You dream about me?"

"Shut up, Sam."

He laughed and hugged her completely to him, relaxing as she sighed and snuggled against his frame. Her hands slid to his butt, but only remained on the upper slope of it, but Sam wasn't shy about palming her ass completely.

Mercedes snickered and pulled back. "Really?"

"Really, really," he whispered, kissing her nose. "I like all this junk in your trunk."

She snorted and cackled at that, moving her hands down to squeeze his ass fully before yanking her hands out his trunks and heading back to their space. He did manage to get her in the water, but he was very careful not to get her hair wet, knowing she'd use his balls as baubles if he did.

Especially since they had a date that night.