Disclaimer: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
A/N: There is not long left to this story now. Thanks to everybody who has reviewed and hasn't received a reply. I've been so busy but I will get round to that sometime this week.
Chapter Nine
"Will you just stop talking about it now?" Leah says, pacing the room, teeth gritted. She's pissed and his instincts tell him to back off but something approaching desperation just won't let him do that.
"I don't see why you're getting so upset about it?"
She turns on him, eyes wide with annoyance and perhaps disbelief. "Because it's ridiculous. And you keep going on about it despite the fact that I've told you no."
He rolls his eyes. "I mean the topic, itself. You won't even sit down and discuss it with me. Why does it piss you off so much?"
She slams her hand against the table and stands up. Her chair bounces back, toppling to the floor. She regards it with anger for a moment, likely considering if she should pick it up but she kicks it out of the way instead. Sam doesn't talk. He's not quite sure she won't pounce on him the second he opens his mouth.
"You don't trust me," she says calmly, a little disappointed. He opens his mouth to protest but she doesn't seem to notice. "Why can't you just trust me? I said I'd break the imprint and I'm going to."
"It's not that, Leah. I just---I want this for us. I don't see the point in waiting."
The kitchen counter takes a hit this time. "No! You just want to stake your claim on me. And it's stupid. You know how imprinting works, and no...I'm not having a dig at you over Emily," she cuts in before he can protest. "It doesn't matter if we're married with six kids, it still wouldn't be enough."
Her expression softens and she picks up the fallen chair and slides it over to him. "I know what you're doing, Sam...and I know how hard this must be for you. I remember. But getting married isn't the answer. Not now. It's just going to make things more complicated."
His shoulders sag as he realises that she's right. He's so desperate to keep her that he's grasping at any straw he can see. She leans over and brushes her fingertips over his tired eyes. "I'm breaking this imprint, Sam. I won't blame you if you decide I'm not worth all this bullshit but with or without you, I'm breaking it."
He captures her hand in his and brings it to his lips. She pulls it away from him and looks up at him with a wicked grin before pushing the chair back and sinking to her knees. His breath hitches slightly as her hand goes to his fly.
"Just relax," she murmers. "This is all for you."
She tugs on his zipper and lowers her head. They don't consider the fact that Sue or Seth might come home at any minute. With their ears, it's not a cause for concern. He rests his head on the back of his chair, eyes closed. Of all her distraction techniques, this has to be his favourite. Her mouth is warm and soft and wet and the only thought whirring around his head is how good it feels.
All he can feel is her tongue, sucking and pulling, teasing him---working him into a frenzy the best way she knows how. He can feel her smile against him as he entwines his fingers in her hair and pumps his hips. She's got him right where she wants him and he's powerless to do anything but pull her closer.
It doesn't take her long to get him off. She's too good and he's too relaxed to fight it. She rests her head against his thigh and he runs his fingers through her hair, too exhausted to do much else. She looks up at him, face flushed and eyes dark. "I haven't done this with him, y'know." she whispers. "I haven't done anything."
She pulls herself up until she's sitting on his lap. Her arms go around his neck and she looks him straight in the eye. "I've been meeting up with him, because I need to see him and I need to find a way to stop, but I haven't fucked him. I've thought about it and sometimes I want to so bad but I can't imagine it ever being as perfect as this so I don't."
"Lee...," he starts, his voice catching but he can't think of anything else to say.
Her face crumples and tears flood her eyes. "I kissed him, Sam, but I swear that's all I did. I just wanted to be sure that he wasn't the one."
His arms go around her as she cries. "It's okay," he whispers, and it is. He's been waiting for this confession but he was expecting something so much worse. Her revelation fills him with fresh hope. Even the thought of his girl sitting at home wouldn't have stopped him from sleeping with Emily when he imprinted and he's so happy that Leah has proven stronger than him.
She sniffles, her face in the crook of his neck, and lifts her head. "I haven't seen him for a few weeks, Sam. I decided that it wasn't working to see him so much so I've stopped. I think it helps if I don't see him, the feelings fade a little bit when he's not there, when I know I'm not going to run into him."
Her head goes back to his shoulder but he barely notices. He is so furious with this fucking creep who thinks he has some claim over his girl. How dare he make her cry. He wants to hunt the fool down and rip his heart out but he knows that he wouldn't do it even if the asshole was in front of him right now. The worst part of it all is that he can't blame him for being helplessly in love with Leah. He knows how it feels to be so completely taken over by her.
"Sam...?"
The voice snaps him out of it. It's hesitant, unsure, determined and terrified. "I have a plan."
They don't even wait for the sun to rise. It's simply a case of now or never and he keeps expecting her to change her mind.
"I'm not sure about this." Leah says, hopping from one foot to the other as they wait outside the door.
"It was your idea."
"Not this part," she hisses as the hall light flicks on. They can hear the soft pad of bare feet on carpet, a beating heart settling after a disturbed sleep. Leah ducks slightly behind him as the door creaks open. Her shoulders are slumped, chin lowered in a show of submission. He doesn't know if it's natural or affected.
The figure stares at them sleepily, rubbing tired brown eyes between finger and thumb. Long, dark hair is loose down her back. "Sam," she states, her voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing here at this time?"
He steps forward, giving her his most beseeching look. "We need a favour, Mom."
