What I own: Cybergeddon, Stick It and Wide Awake on DVD, several retro and totally inappropriate for work dresses that I wear exclusively TO work and four pairs of yoga pants that I wear at all other times.
What I don't: Rookie Blue. For real, they aren't mine. I just like playing in the amazing sandbox, I promise my poor ass will clean them up when I am done. This little tale, however, is all mine.
Author's Note: Y'all. Y'ALL. I cannot with you. I am just… astounded by the response to this story. All the reviews, support, alerts and kind words are just… yeah. I swear I have the greatest readers in the world, ever. I just want to bake you all some brownies and take you to Starbucks. I can't even begin to thank you all enough. The fact that not only are you all taking your precious time ti read my words, but that you enjoy them? AND YOU TELL ME THAT? It makes me grin like a movie star. ANYWAY, there is time for gushing later, and it WILL HAPPEN. So, I just want to clarify that I am NOT from, nor have I ever been to Toronto, or Canada at all for that matter, not including that time my school bus got lost and we ended up there. Almost everything is artistic license, but I at least try and make it a little realistic, if I have any glaring inaccuracies, PLEASE feel free to point them out, I love some creative criticism. This chapter has yet to be beta'd, so all the mistakes are mine, mine, mine. Janeycakes and her red pen of amazing cleans those up for me. As always, reviews are rewarded with sneak peeks and LOTS of babble. Questions? Comments? Can you name the songs I have taken my chapter titles from? Hit me up on Twitter and we can chat! Happy reading, I hope you enjoy!
I squeezed my eyes closed against the bright sun that filtered through the blinds, piercing the thin veil of sleep that I stubbornly clung to in vain, despite my bladder being very insistent that I get up right now. Huffing sleepily, I tossed the blankets back and sleepily rolled towards the side of the bed only to have a pair of strong hands close around my waist and pull me back, flush against a now very, very familiar body. Sam's arms wrapped tightly around my torso and his nose ran along the length of my neck, early morning stubble scratching against my neck.
"Stay." His voice was thick and husky with sleep, the word almost whispered against my skin and I melted, just a little bit right then.
"I'll be right back, I just need to pee." The soft grunt of displeasure my answer received was almost enough to keep me in bed, but not quite. A smile pulled at my lips as I reluctantly wiggled out of his embrace and stood, on wobbly legs, to head towards the bathroom. My muscles protested the activity with every step, the very pleasant ache bringing with it memories of the night before, and a smile pulled at my lips even as I struggled to make heads or tails of what was going on.
Shutting the door with a soft click behind me, I quickly went about a very abbreviated version of my morning routine, settling for splashing some water on my face and swishing some mouthwash in lieu of brushing my teeth, seeing as all of my actual toiletries were upstairs. My hair was an absolute mess, between the night's activities and falling asleep with it wet, the dark strands stuck out every which way, hanging down my bare back in a riot of tangles I didn't have the patience to deal with right now.
As satisfied as I was going to get, I opened the door and paused in the doorway, the sight before me causing my heart to skip a beat and heat to flush into my cheeks. Sam lay across the bed on his stomach, his head turned towards my recently vacated spot. The dark sheets stopped just short of his hips and the morning sun shined off of tanned skin, playing off of the sculpted muscles of his back, an almost shocking contrast to his face, which was possibly more relaxed than I had ever seen it. He looked almost ridiculously young and shockingly beautiful in this moment and I mentally kicked myself for not having noticed it sooner.
My smile is soft as I tiptoe back to the bed, sliding between the sheets and snuggling up to Sam's warm body, his arms almost instantly wrapping around my waist as his nose nuzzled over my neck, lips brushing over my pulse point in a sweet kiss.
"My McNally." The endearment was mumbled against my skin and I knew that Sam was still at least half asleep as he spoke but it still sent a small thrill down my spine and I felt my smile grow despite the small flash of panic at what this could mean.
This... thing with Sam, whatever it was, was all so very new, every aspect of it. It felt oddly right, in a way that things with Preston never had, no matter how much I had wished that they did. Weather it was from the closeness and trust that was intrinsic with the years we had spent partners and, after a bit of an initial bumpy start, friends or whether it was from something more, I didn't know.
I lay there, more comfortable that I could remember, in Sam's arms, the events of not only last night but of the weeks, months and even years prior, small things and drastic events filtering through my mind on a near continuous loop. The moments that made up our story, that brought us to where we were right now.
"McNallllly" My name was drawn out in a husky whisper, and I stifled the laugh that threatened to erupt as Sam's fingers swirled over my highly ticklish ribs, squirming slightly in a futile attempt to get away from them. It was a losing battle, however, as his arms just tightened and held me firmly in place.
"That tickles you know." I tried to feign haughtiness but it was pointless as soon as I heard the low groan from the man behind me and felt a familiar twitch against my backside.
"Well that does far more than tickle." Sam's hand ghosted down to my hip, his fingertips ever so lightly dancing along the sensitive skin. It took all my strength to keep from shifting into his touch.
"Play nice Sam, it's early and I'm-" I paused for a moment, weighing my words carefully, "Out of practice."
He placed a kiss on the back of my head with a low chuckle and rested his hand flat against my hip, ceasing the lovely patterns he had been tracing.
"It's eleven McNally, it is far from early. And you know what they say about that don't you?"
"They say a lot of things, which one exactly?" I knew exactly what he was getting at but I couldn't help but tease him at least a little.
"Practice makes perfect." His words were whispered into my ear, low and inviting, as his hand slipped just a bit further down my thigh. "Though if I recall correctly, and I may not be in my old age, you are pretty perfect despite being out of practice."
My cheeks flushed and I shook my head just slightly, my hips tilting up into Sam's hand.
"About last night Sam..." I had to swallow rapidly to get the words out without a tremble and even then, they trailed off with a gasp as the man in questions lips trailed along my neck.
"We can talk about it when we wake up McNally." The words left little room for discussion, though any possible hope for coherent speech dissipated as soon as Sam's hand slipped between my thighs.
Almost two hours and a very leisurely and somewhat counterproductive shower later, I sat perched on Sam's kitchen counter, wearing yesterday's dress and bare feet, watching him fix lunch as I nibbled on strawberries straight from the container. It was quickly becoming a favorite pastime for me, and I wondered, not for the first time how I had never noticed how ridiculously sexy the man was, barefoot and working whatever culinary magic he had decided on his ease and experience evident with almost every move he made.
"I can hear you thinking McNally." I could almost hear the smile in Sam's voice, although he didn't look up from the pot he was stirring as he spoke.
"I like watching you cook is all. You are very good with your hands." The double entendre was lost on me for a moment until he turned his head, a familiar cocky grin playing on his lips and I swatted his bicep playfully as I felt heat rush into my cheeks.
"You know what I meant!" Another glance in to the pot and Sam quickly flipped of the stove and stepped into the space between my legs, my skirt riding just slightly up my thighs. The counter more than made up for our height difference and he looked up at me, his hand resting lightly on my hips.
"Of course I know what you meant, McNally, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear you say it."
Giving Sam an incredulous look, I roll my eyes and toss my hair back behind my shoulders.
"Want to hear me say what? That you are good with your hands? I'm in awe of your skills? You leave me speechless?" My grin widens with every question, as does Sam's.
"Well, that's a start, please continue." Laughing, I kiss his cheek and hop off the counter, sidestepping his grasp.
"I'll continue later, right now you promised me food and then I seem to recall a promise to take me to the hospital..." The discussion from last night seemed like forever ago, but I knew that he had not forgotten it, nor had I, despite everything that had transpired in the last twelve hours. My evasion received a low but good-natured grumble and within moments a bowl of tortilla soup was set in my hands.
"Eat up McNally, places to go, people to see and a list to finish." Laughing, I shook my head and followed Sam to the table, my stomach growling in hunger.
Lunch was, to no surprise, delicious and I refused to let Sam clean up, despite his arguments of my being a guest. Making quick work of packing up leftovers and washing dishes, eschewing the dishwasher in favor of washing by hand and citing the nostalgia factor. I hummed quietly as I worked, singing the odd word here or there as I moved with a surprising ease around the kitchen, Sam having taken a seat on the bench, watched me as I worked. I could feel his eyes on me, following me here and there but he said nothing, though a small grin played across his face. Shelving the last glass, I turned and faced him, arms crossed and brow raised in feigned indignation.
"Am I really that interesting?" The tile floor was cool under my bare feet as I crossed the kitchen, perching on Sam's knees with a smile.
"You are." The answer was brief and sincere and my heart may have skipped a beat as he flashed a bright smile, complete with dimples, and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
"You... Come on, we have to get going." I made no move to get up however, staying put and running my fingers along Sam's now clean-shaven jaw. I had sat on the bathroom counter, wrapped in a towel with dripping wet hair and watched the process, slightly fascinated.
"Yeah, I can tell that you are in a huge hurry, McNally." His eyes danced with mirth and humor laced his words as he rested a hand on my waist, his thumb trailing lazily over my ribs, earning a laugh and a squirm. Before I jumped up, shaking my head and snagging his keys off of the counter.
"Come on, I made a promise and I intend to keep it." Shaking the stolen keys, I dashed through the living room, grabbing my sandals on the way by and headed outside into the bright sunshine of the day, Sam's muttered curses following me out the open door.