Chapter Four
Later that night Sam knocked heavily on Martin's door hoping that she hadn't already lost him to sleep. She listened eagerly, tempted to press her ear to the door and sighed with relief when she heard the tell-tale shuffle of bare feet moving stealthily across the wooden floorboards.
"Hey," she whispered quietly as he opened the door, leaning heavily against it.
"What are you doing? I gave you a key," he was quick to remind her utter confusion playing across his face.
"I wasn't sure if I was still welcome," she admitted reluctantly glancing up to meet his weary blue eyes.
He offered her the briefest of smiles, eyes lighting up momentarily before stepping aside to allow her entry. She brushed passed him but Martin grabbed her and pulled her back towards him as he shut the door.
Her body instinctively clung to his the moment he was near her. He kissed her soundly his lips sliding over hers in a way she could only describe as breath-taking.
"What took you so long?" he groaned against her lips pulling her even closer hoping he would never have to let her go again. "I thought you were coming straight from work."
"I went home," she admitted, "I was just thinking. I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to snap at you, I know you were just trying to be there for me. I appreciate it, I really do."
"You were scared?" he determined, "Of coming here earlier weren't you?"
"You left without saying goodbye; I just thought maybe you didn't want to see me tonight."
"I always want to see you," he told her pulling her into the living room and depositing her on the sofa.
"Even when I've been an absolute bitch?"
"Even then," he threw himself down next to her, her body finding ways, as it always did, to drape across his own so entirely comfortably that it felt like she had belonged with him always.
She was a missing piece of his own body. Only when she was with him was he complete.
His lips were right next to her ear and with the TV droning quietly in the background, a basketball game playing out, not nearly enough to tear his attention away from Sam. "You want to talk to me about it now?" he murmured.
They both knew what he was referring to. No further explanation of his question was required. There was a stunning silence and he wondered briefly if she had even heard him.
She shook her head. "No," came her tiny reply.
His arms held her tighter offering silent promises that he would be there for her whatever she was keeping inside, whoever it was that had evoked such a fierce reaction from her.
He realized he was promising things he could not guarantee but he knew her. Knew that was exactly what she needed, promises of protection and love, even if they remained unspoken.
"Not even if I can promise a massage," he tried to bargain with her trying to give back to her a little of what she had given to him only one night earlier that had without a doubt made a world of difference to his state of mind.
"Can we do the massage and not the talking?" she asked quietly all her energy gone from trying to hold herself together for the rest of the day, pretend she wasn't bothered when she couldn't seem to stop thinking about Cole's phone call.
"Anything you want," he told the skin behind her ear.
She moved off him, heading towards his bedroom, a trail of clothing already forming in her wake.
She was like a hurricane really, leaving a trail in her path.
Hurricane Samantha.
With her tempestuous behavior and stormy temper and that deeply hidden passion that he had managed to unleash. She was a hurricane alright and he loved it.
He watched her for a moment before leaping into action, following her down the hallway to find her already half-naked in his unmade bed.
Martin couldn't help but marvel at her ability to look absolutely beautiful after even the day's intense emotional turmoil. There was something even more stunning about her in his bed in that state, waiting for him, to rid her of the day.
She was a vision.
The lotion was retrieved from the nightstand where it had been left the night before and the cold liquid was poured into his hands as he inhaled it's scent deeply.
It was the same scent that was now imbedded deep in every molecule of his apartment. From his shower, to his pillows to his stack of sweaters that sat in his closet. Her scent had contaminated all of it and he wouldn't trade that smell for the world.
She had become a part of him really. He wasn't giving that up without the toughest of fights. Whatever was going on with her could not be enough to tear them apart. He simply wouldn't allow it.
Martin straddled her hips keeping her body firmly secured against the mattress as his hands moved slickly across her flawless skin rubbing and smoothing, easing and caressing.
He leaned down close to her ear his body almost entirely covering hers, "You sure you don't want to talk?" he pried adopting the same attitude and force she had the previous night in the hopes of drawing her out, her secrets pulled from somewhere deep inside of her, forced to the surface and screaming to be shared with nobody but him.
"I thought we'd already covered this," Samantha moaned, a combination of frustration and elation toying with her for ultimate control.
"I'm just testing the waters," he whispered low against her ear planting a row of kisses across the sensitive skin just below.
"Well, they're cold so get out," she droned hoping he would get the hint and drop this conversation for the night. She just didn't have the resolve to face that particular reality tonight.
