Hey, thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
I think it's time I showed this story some love, it actually one of my faves.
Standard disclaimer.
What came first, woman...or the chocolate bar?
Sam had no idea what the hell he thought he was doing, flirting with Mercedes.
Scratch that.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He was feeling alive for the first time in six months. Possibly in four years.
She was looking at him, her sweet brown eyes lit, and her cheeks flushed. She was feeling alive too, he was guessing.
But she probably wasn't wondering, if he still had a condom in his wallet or trying to calculate how old it might be.
But if she had a list, so did he...a short list of one...and she was it.
"Why does a woman like you need a list at all?" Sam asked.
"Like me?" Mercedes asked.
"Pretty. Smart. Funny."
She laughed, then shook her head.
"I don't know. I guess, I don't have a lot of time to date."
He could understand that.
Hell, it'd been a long time since he'd dated. It'd been a long dry spell without a woman at all...and she was all woman.
Her dress was a deceptively modest black number, with little straps, criss-crossing, across her back.
It fell to mid-thigh, molding her curves and whetting his appetite for more.
Her heels were high and strappy, emphasizing world-class legs, which had been hidden beneath her scrubs.
She had her hair up in some loose twist, with a few tendrils falling across one temple and at the nape of her neck.
Her only jewelry was a little gold necklace...no earrings...nothing to stop his mouth from nipping her throat, along his way to her ear, where, if he was so inclined, he'd stop to whisper promises.
He shouldn't be inclined.
Mercedes Jones was sweet, warm, and caring.
She was a white picket fence and two-point-four kids. She was a diamond ring.
She was someone's keeper.
Not his. Never his.
He didn't do keepers.
And yet, in that beat, with her mouth close to his, a smile in her eyes…he ached.
He ached and yearned for something...for someone.
He wanted to wrap his arms around a woman...this woman...and lose himself in her.
A woman tapped Mercedes on the shoulder, the same woman from before...tall, thin, and coldly beautiful, with a tight pinch to her mouth, that said, she was greatly displeased about something. Or possibly constipated.
She wore authority and bitchiness, as easily, as she wore the strand of diamonds around her neck.
Mercedes glanced up and straightened, her expression going carefully blank.
"Shelby," she said, in a tone that told Sam, that the woman was either her boss or her executioner.
"I need a moment," Shelby said.
'Boss,' Sam thought.
"Absolutely!"
Mercedes followed her out of the hall and into the foyer. And Sam's eyes snapped to her behind, watching it bounce and jiggle with every step she took.
He groaned and silently warned himself to look away.
He heeded, realizing, the auction was moving ahead at full steam now, and people were into it, jumping up and waving as they bid.
Telling himself, he had to stretch his aching leg, and that he wasn't at all curious, about what had come so briefly over Mercedes' face, he left the hall.
In the entranceway, Mercedes had her back to Sam, facing Cruella Deville.
"Absolutely!" she was saying. "I'll go upstairs and get it right now. Thank you for your addition, Shelby."
And then, Shelby went one way and Mercedes the other, her sweet ass sashaying, as fast as she could move in those sexy heels.
'Let it go, man. Let her go,' he told himself.
He'd heard enough from her mother, to know she was a good girl, just looking for a walk on the wild side.
She'd probably grown up in Lucky Harbor, which was pretty much the same thing, as being in bubble wrap all her life.
She was not for him.
Except...
Except here she was, clearly doing her damnedest, to meet some pretty tough expectations from family and work and whatever, all while, looking to spread her wings.
She had guts, and he admired that.
She was sexy and adorable, but no matter what she did to spread her wings, she wasn't going to match him, in life's experiences.
Not even close.
She was clean and untainted and not jaded.
She was his opposite.
She was too good for him...far too good, even when she was out there risking it all.
She deserved way more than he had to offer, and he needed to just walk away. After all, he was out of here, probably, as within the next week.
'Gone, baby, gone.'
He told himself this, repeated it, and then followed her down the hallway, anyway.
Mercedes walked up the stairs, cursing the heels that were pinching her toes.
Shelby had sent her up here on a wild goose chase, for an antique vase, that had been accidentally left off the auction chopping block.
She knew Shelby's family had built the Vets' Hall in the early 1940s. And apparently, the missing vase had sat in the entry for years, until last spring, when the building had been renovated.
The vase had never been put back on display and now Shelby wanted it found...and gone.
All Mercedes had to do, was find it.
The second story ran the length of the building.
On one side, was a series of rooms, used by the rec center and other various groups, like the local Booster Club.
The other side was one big closed-off storage room.
Mercedes let herself in and flipped on the lights.
Far above her, was an open-beam ceiling and a loft area, where more crap had been haphazardly shoved away.
And she hoped like hell, she wouldn't have to climb up there in her dress and annoying heels, to find the vase.
The place was warm, stuffy, and smelled like neglect.
She took a good look around and felt a lick of panic, at the idea of finding her way out of here, much less locating the missing vase.
She moved passed a huge shelving unit, that was stuffed to the gills with long-lost play props and background sets, and various other miscellaneous items, for which, there was little use.
All that, and not a single vase.
Mercedes walked passed more shelves and around, two huge, fake, potted Christmas trees, before coming to a large stack of boxes leaning against the wall.
Assuming, the vase wouldn't be stuffed away, she walked farther, her gaze searching.
Near the center of the room, she came to another long set of shelves.
Here, were some more valuable items, such as, office equipment and furnishings, and miraculously, sitting all by itself on a shelf, was a tall vase...looking exactly like the one Shelby had described.
Mercedes couldn't believe it. She picked it up and turned to go, and ran directly into a brick wall.
A brick wall that was a man's chest.
Sam's to be more specific.
He'd appeared out of thin air, it seemed, scaring her half to death.
The vase flew out of her hands and would have smashed to the floor, but he caught it.
His sexy suit might have given him an air of sophistication, but it did nothing to hide his bad-boy air.
His hair was a little mussed, like he'd run his fingers through it repeatedly. In another man, this would have softened his look, but not Sam.
She wasn't fooled.
There was nothing soft about him. He was trouble with a capital T and she knew it.
Mercedes gasped, resting her hand on her pounding heart.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"What are you doing?" Sam mimicked.
She snatched the vase from his hands.
"Working."
"Well, I'm helping my date work then."
"You're not my real date. You didn't even know you had a date."
He looked amused.
"So you're one of those women who holds a grudge?"
"No! I'm..."
From somewhere far behind them, the storage room door opened and a voice called,
"Hello? Mercedes, dear?"
"Shit!" Mercedes whispered, horrified. "It's Lucille."
"Your mother told you not to swear," Sam said, his eyes playful.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Mercedes?" Lucille called out.
At that, Mercedes slapped her hand over her own mouth.
"Yoo-hoo…I saw your hot date follow you in here. I just want to get a picture of you two for Facebook."
'Oh no. No, no, no.'
Mercedes turned in a quick circle, in the warm, dusty, overstuffed storage room, desperate for a place to hide.
Sam must have seen her panic, because, he briefly held a finger to her lips, to indicate he needed her silence.
Then, he took the vase in one hand, her wrist in his other and tugged her along, farther into the shadows.
Mercedes followed, walking on her tiptoes, to avoid the clicking of her heels.
Suddenly, Sam pressed her against the wall.
"Shh," he breathed in her ear.
'Stealth. Got it.'
She was depending on it.
She also got something else, an unexpected zing, from the feel of his mouth on her ear and his body pressing into hers.
"Mercedes?" Lucille called out.
Sam went into 007 mode. His eyes were searching their surroundings, his body ready and alert.
He opened a panel, Mercedes hadn't even noticed, then pulled something from his pocket and used it inside the panel.
In the next second, the lights went out.
Startled, Mercedes nearly gasped, but Sam slid a hand over her mouth. And that, combined with the way he was holding her against the wall, caused a tsunami of inappropriate feelings to rush through her.
"Don't move," he softly commanded and remained still until she nodded. Then he was gone.
Only not completely gone.
She jumped, when she felt his hands on her ankles. He was crouched before her, removing first one heel and then the other.
Her hands went out for balance and smacked him in the head. She heard his soft laugh, then he had her hand again and they were on the move.
She couldn't see a thing, but Sam didn't appear to have that problem. He was navigating them both with apparent ease, leading her through the maze of the vast storage unit, as if he could see in the dark.
They turned corners and squeezed into spots, his hands sliding to her hips, guiding her exactly where he wanted her to go, taking care, that she didn't bump into anything.
She had no idea how he could see, or even know where they were going, but she followed him.
Blindly.
It was better than the alternative.
Each time they stopped, Mercedes was pulled up against Sam's big, warm body, until she began to anticipate it.
Crave it.
"Mercedes?"
Now, accompanying Lucille's voice, came a small beam of light.
'Good Lord! The woman is using the same Bic app, that Quinn has.'
"Oh for the love of..."
Warm lips touched hers.
"Shh."
'Right. Shh.'
Her knees were starting to melt.
Her one hand was in his, trapped between their bodies, but her other hand slid up his chest, around the back of his neck and into his hair.
'Because I need a hand grip,' she told herself.
"How bad do you want to keep out of her sight?" Sam wanted to know, each syllable rumbling from his chest, through hers.
He'd set the vase down, freeing up his other hand.
She felt herself rock into him, tightening her grip on his hair.
And it took a long moment to process his words, because, her brain was no longer firing on all cylinders.
"Mercedes?"
God, she liked the sound of her name on his lips. And she liked the feeling that had come over her too, the languid, yet throbbing beat of anticipation.
She certainly wasn't bored or sad now.
"Hmm?"
"How bad?" Sam asked.
'How bad do I want you? Bad.'
With a little huff against her jaw, that might have been another low laugh, he tightened his grip on her and spun her away from him, setting her hands on something, that oddly felt like cold steel.
"Hold on tight," he whispered and nudged his big body up behind hers, his biceps on either side of her arms, his chest against her back.
Mercedes' mind went utterly blank, but her body didn't.
Her body went damp, at the wicked thought of doing it right here, like this. From behind.
"Up," Sam said, and the fantasy receded.
No, he didn't want sex. He had her in front of a ladder and wanted her to climb it.
Good thing her skin was brown, because, it hid the heat of the blush she could feel on her face.
She pulled herself up, extremely aware, that her butt was in his face, and then she was directly above him.
He was still apparently able to see in the dark. Which meant, he could see right up her dress.
She was wearing a brand new silky black thong, her very best, but still, it couldn't be a very good angle for her.
At the top of the ladder was the loft.
Moonlight slanted in from the sole round window, revealing more stored items, a couch and a large table with chairs.
The table was stacked with more stuff.
There were also rows of framed pictures and empty planters, and a whole horde of other crap.
Everywhere.
Mercedes moved aside, for Sam to join her, but the standing space was so small, she lost her balance and fell onto the couch.
And Sam followed her down.
On the night of the storm, she had been beneath him too, but it felt different this time. Sexy different, and she let out a small, half hysterical laugh.
Sam covered her mouth with his hand, shifting a little, to get the bulk of his weight off of her.
In the execution, one of his thighs pushed between hers and oh sweet baby Jesus! She promptly stopped laughing and moaned instead...a total involuntary, accidental moan, that sounded needy and wanton.
And horrifyingly loud.
Sam's hands tightened on Mercedes and they both stilled, craning their necks, looking down into the dark storage area, following the little beam of light, as Lucille weaved through the aisles below.
Then, he pulled his hand from Mercedes' mouth and said,
"Unless she can climb a ladder, we're good here, until she gives up and leaves."
'Yes. Yes, we are good here. Or very bad, depending on how one looked at it,' she thought.
Above her, Sam was as still as stone, a solid heated package of testosterone and sinew, holding her down on the couch.
She wasn't sure what it said about her, that she felt just a little bit powerless and helpless, and she liked it.
A lot.
Another thing she liked...the fact that, every time he breathed, his leg shifted up against her core, putting her body on an entirely different page, than her brain.
On the 'get-more-of-him' page.
"She won't give up," Mercedes whispered, more than a little breathless.
"Watch."
Sam shifted again...
'Oh God his thigh!'
And pulled something from his pocket, which he threw.
Mercedes heard the ping of a coin, as it landed with deadly precision, all the way across the huge room, near the storage room entrance.
'Holy shit! He can throw.'
"Oh!" they heard Lucille exclaim, whipping around towards the sound. "You're escaping, you smart girl. Darn it all!"
They watched, as the little beam of light, wobbled back through the room to the entrance, and then in the next moment, vanished completely.
Silence reigned.
Well, except for Mercedes' thundering heartbeat.
She was in an attic loft, flat beneath her Mr. Wrong. And her common sense was screaming flee! But her secret inner bad girl was screaming, oh please, can't we have him? Just once?
"You okay?" Sam asked.
'Loaded question.'
"You have some impressive skills," she said. "I feel like a Bond girl."
"You weren't so bad yourself," he said. "The way you shimmied up that ladder, is going to fuel my fantasies for some time."
'So, he can see in the dark.'
And now that they were up here, with moonlight coming in the window, she could see too.
She bit her lower lip, because, she could feel, too.
She could feel him, all of him.
Her breasts were mashed against his chest, plumping out of her dress suggestively.
She wasn't sure he'd noticed, but then, he very purposely dropped his head, his lips just barely brushing her exposed skin.
She sucked in a breath and felt him stir against her.
'Yeah. He noticed.'
"I have lots of ladder practice," Mercedes said inanely.
"Yeah?" Sam asked, sounding intrigued. "You climb a lot of ladders in the ER?"
"Uh...no." Nerves had her laughing. And babbling. "But I had to clear the gutters on my house last fall, before the rains hit. And I nearly fell, when I found a fist-sized spider waiting for me, but managed not to accidentally kill myself."
A low laugh escaped him.
"So why did you do it?" she asked.
"The ladder? Nowhere else to go, but up."
"No, I mean why did you help me hide? And thanks, by the way. You pretty much saved my butt." 'Again.'
He slid a hand down her arm, squeezing her hip, before shocking the hell out of her, when he slid that hand further, cupping said butt.
"My pleasure."
At the words, at the touch, her body liquefied. Or maybe that was his fingers, tightening on her hindquarters, making her want to squirm and rock into him.
A second later, the brand new bad girl in her, took over and did exactly that.
Sam went still.
Mercedes wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but she was feeling things she hadn't in far too long, and she intended to go with those feelings.
So she squirmed again.
"Mercedes.." There was a warning in that low, sexy tone of his, a very serious warning.
She wanted a kiss, but hearing him say her name like that, was almost as good.
And now, she wanted more. She wanted things, she didn't even have names for.
So she wriggled some more, hoping like hell she was getting her message across, because, she wasn't all that practiced in the bad girl department.
Santana had been right...she needed lessons. She made a mental note to address this as well, at the next chocoholics meeting.
For now, she'd wing it.
"Yeah?"
"Are you coming onto me?" Sam asked.
"Well, technically, you're on top of me," Mercedes pointed out. "So I think, that means, that you're coming onto me."
With a groan, he pressed his forehead to hers and swore under his breath, and not the good kind of swear either.
And though she should have seen this coming, she hadn't.
He didn't want her.
But it was perfect, really. Perfect for the way the rest of the night had gone.
Horrified and humiliated, she pushed at him.
"Sorry. I got caught up in the moment. I'm not very good at this, obviously." Sam didn't budge so she shoved him again.
"Excuse me."
He merely tightened his grip.
"Not good at what, exactly?" he asked.
"Really? You need me to say it?"
When he just waited, she sighed.
"Attracting men. I'm not good at attracting men. Now, if you could please get off."
He lifted his head and cupped the back of hers in his big hand, his eyes glinting with heat.
"You first," he said rough and gravelly, leaving no mistake in his meaning.
Mercedes gasped, and he took advantage of that to kiss her, his lips moving against hers, until she gasped again, in sheer pleasure this time.
Things went a little crazy then.
Sam's mouth was firm and hungry, his tongue sliding against hers, and God, she'd almost forgotten what it was like, to be kissed like this...like there was nothing on earth, more important than her.
And that long-forgotten thrill, of feeling soft and feminine, rushed over her.
Then, Sam lifted his head, and she realized she was touching his face, the stubble on his jaw, scraping against the pads of her fingers.
"To be clear," he said, "I'm very attracted to you."
And she believed him, because, the proof of that statement, was hard against her hip.
"I think it's your eyes," he said.
Mercedes was a little startled, by the unexpected romance of that.
And then, she was drowning in his eyes, which were smoldering. When he started kissing her again, she couldn't think, because, he happened to be the world's most amazing kisser. Ever.
She lost herself in it...in him...for long moments, loving the fact that, he didn't seem to be in a hurry at all, or using the kiss as a means to an end.
Kissing her was an act all unto itself, and she was panting for air, when he finally broke from it.
Sam shifted to pull away and Mercedes reflexively clutched at him.
"Wait! We're stopping?"
Dropping his head, he rubbed his jaw to hers.
"Yeah."
"But…why?" she asked.
He let out a low, innately male groan.
"Because, you're not the 'fuck-a-stranger-in-a-storage-room-with-her-boss-waiting' type of woman."
'Well, when you put it like that…Damn!'
Her inner bad girl retreated a little. More than a little.
You don't think you deserve to be happy.
Santana's words floated into her head.
No, she'd never been the type, to let a stranger into her heart, much less her body.
But this wasn't about her heart.
And Sam was no longer a complete stranger. He was the man who'd good-naturedly stepped in tonight, when she'd needed him.
Multiple times.
He was the man, who'd just given her the most amazing kiss of her life.
And she wanted him, to also be the man to vanquish her restlessness and loneliness.
"I am for tonight," she said, and wrapped herself around him.
"Mercedes..."
Sam stared down at her, the moonlight, casting his features in bold relief.
"I'm not a long-term bet. Hell, I'm not even a short-term bet."
"I just want this," she said. "Here. Now. With you."
This won her another long look, interrupted by a very rough, very male groan, when she undulated against him, trying to sway the game in her favor.
"Christ, your eyes," he said, on a long breath. "Come here then."
She lifted up to meet him, but he pressed her down farther into the couch, his mouth trailblazing a path over her throat and collar bone.
Apparently, he wasn't one to over-think or second-guess a decision.
And when he came up against the material of her dress, he wasn't deterred by that either.
A quick tug of his fingers and her straps slid down her shoulders to her elbows, trapping her hands at her sides and baring her breasts, all in one economical movement.
Apparently, he didn't waste energy unnecessarily, either.
"Mmm," he said, a growl of approval low in his throat.
He made his way to her breasts, paying such careful homage to her nipples, that she was writhing beneath him, by the time he'd moved down her stomach.
"So soft," he murmured against her, his breath gently caressing her.
But there was nothing gentle about him, as his work-roughened fingers, pushed the hem of the dress up to her waist.
He looked down at her black thong, gave another low growl of approval, then, slid the tiny swatch of black silk to one side.
This bared all her secrets, both to the night air and to his hot gaze.
Lowering his head, Sam put his mouth on Mercedes, using his lips and his tongue, making her arch up into him.
And she was crying out within minutes, her hands fisted in his hair, as stars exploded behind her eyes.
Before she'd even stopped shuddering, he'd shoved off his jacket, then unbuckled, unzipped, and was rolling on a condom.
The sight made her moan, and then, he was pushing inside of her and she lost her breath.
He gave her a moment to adjust to his size, then his mouth found hers again.
She could taste herself on his tongue.
It was wildly sensuous, and so far out of her realm of experience, she could only dig her fingernails into his back and hold on.
Sam swallowed her cries, as he thrust into her, running a hand beneath her knee, lifting her leg up to wrap around him, so he could get even deeper.
Deeper worked.
Oh, how it worked.
He took Mercedes right out of herself, and she thrilled to it.
He was powerful and primal, and if he hadn't taken such care, to make sure she was right there with him, she might have doubted herself.
Instead, she rose to meet him halfway, unable to do anything but feel, as he pushed her over the edge again, his hard length pounding into her, and his tongue mimicking his body's movements, as he claimed her.
And it was a claiming, a thorough one.
She was deep in the throes when he joined her, shuddering in her arms, his hands digging hard into her hips, as he lost himself in pleasure.
In her.
That knowledge nearly sent her over again, as did the low, hoarse, very male sound he made, when he came.
Tearing his mouth from hers, Sam dropped his head into the crook of Mercedes' neck, his broad shoulders rising and falling beneath her hands, as he caught his breath.
He was still buried deep inside of her, when he lifted his head to see her face.
"What?" she whispered.
"Just wanted to make sure you're okay. You're smiling."
"Am not."
But she was. God, she so was.
It would probably take days to get rid of it.
But apparently, she'd taken the Chocoholics modus operandi to heart. She'd just had her Mr. Wrong.
In a storage room.
Which just proved exactly, how wrong Mr. Wrong was for her, because, she'd never had sex without a commitment in her entire life.
She braced herself for the guilt.
None came.
In fact, she felt unexpectedly fantastic.
"No regrets," Mercedes whispered.
Sam gave her a curious look, then that almost-smile.
"I like the way you think."
She ran a finger over the Band-Aid on his forehead, and then along the bruise on his cheek.
"I'm sorry about this," she said. "About throwing the phone at your head, when I thought you were a bad guy."
He shook his head, but his almost-smile became a full smile.
"I don't remember that part."
"Oops! Then, never mind."
She heard a thunderous applause from below them and remembered...the auction!
"Oh my God, we've got to go. You first. Hurry." She gave him a nudge but he didn't move.
"I'm not going to just leave you up here," he said.
"Yes, you are! We can't be seen leaving here together." Just the thought of it, brought more panic, and she pushed him again.
"Go. Hurry!"
Not hurrying at all, Sam looked at her for another long moment.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to her damp temple and finally pulled away. Then, he helped her straighten out her clothing, before taking care of himself.
Mercedes was still lying there, with no bones in her body, when Sam disappeared over the edge of the loft, vanishing into the night, after giving her exactly what she'd asked for.
Just this, here, now.
And now, was over.
Stay safe!