Thank you for your continued support.
Standard disclaimer.
I stalked to the door completely pissed off at myself.
I swung it open and Sam charged inside, grasping at my shoulders.
"Are you okay? Were you awake?"
I wanted to tell him, that I wasn't awake, so he wouldn't know what a goddamn wuss, I truly was. I mean, shit, I could haul ass in my kickboxing class, but I wimped out in a real-life scenario?
"Uh, yeah, the noise at my window woke me up." He was squeezing my shoulders now. It was an, all boy saves-girl scene, so I backed the hell away from him.
"He ran before I could get to him, but I got a good look at his face and the clothes he was wearing," he said.
That's when I heard the siren blaring in the background. Frack! now the whole damn neighbourhood, would be woken up for this.
"Mercedes, the police will be here any minute. Maybe, you should put some more clothes on."
I looked down at my skimpy sleep shirt…no bra…and my nipples standing at attention. And here was Sam, being a complete gentleman again. Shit.
"Uhh…right, thanks."
I dashed into my bedroom, grabbed my jeans and a black hoodie from my bedroom floor and slipped them on.
I headed back to the living room and said,
"Better?" He nodded.
"Pretty sure the cops will be able to do their jobs, with clear heads now."
My whole body heated at his comment. Even in the middle of all of this.
"Sam, how did you…?" I moved to my bedroom door and glanced at my partially opened widow. "Why were you outside?" I finished.
He motioned to the sidewalk, beyond our building.
"I was walking home from Dell's Bar at the corner of our street and saw him at your window."
"Oh my God," I said. "This is so unreal. Thank you."
Most unreal was, how I acted in this situation. Like a freaking damsel in distress.
The lights from the police cruiser, blinked eerie shades of red and blue against my apartment walls.
"Guess we should go meet them outside," I said.
Sam reached for my hand, and I resisted.
His eyebrows bunched together in confusion, and I felt awful, after all he'd done for me.
So, I let him lead me outside, his hand on the small of my back.
The police were there for a solid hour, getting our statements and a description of the suspect from Sam.
Our landlord, Mr. Figgins, showed up, too, and assured me, he'd have a locksmith secure all the first-floor windows in the morning.
Most of the tenants went back to sleep, but Sam, stayed by my side, the entire time.
He asked the police pertinent questions for me, like how long it would be, before I heard anything and how to contact them, if I had any more questions.
It was like, he was my flipping spokesman or something.
Surprising of all, I let him be.
My head still swirled from shock and anger, and most of all, fear.
Especially about falling back to sleep tonight.
I decided, right then and there, that I'd be making my bed on the couch, close to the door and the knives in the kitchen.
When all was said and done, Sam walked me back to my door.
"You gonna be okay?" I didn't want my voice to deceive me, so I just nodded and inserted my key into the lock. He must have noticed some hesitation.
"Mercedes, are you sure you…"
"Of course!" I snapped at him. "Look, I'm sorry. It's been a long night. Thank you for everything."
"Sure. Good night."
He headed towards the elevator and I reluctantly crossed over the threshold, into my apartment.
I could feel him watching me, so I thrust my door closed and propped my weight against it.
Suddenly, my apartment felt different to me.
Dimmer.
Lurking shadows in the corners.
Sinister creaks from the wind.
There was a light tap, and I heard Sam clear his throat.
"Mercedes?"
I backed away from the door, like I hadn't been leaning against it the entire time.
I took a deep breath and collected myself, then pulled open the door.
"Yeah?" Sam's face creased in concern. He held out his hand.
"Come on."
"What? Where?"
"Up to my place for the night."
"No, I…"
I sputtered.
He stared at me impassively, with his hand still stretched out, for the taking.
Was this guy for real?
Going with him would make me look weak.
But who the hell was I kidding?
I was spooked from an intruder, who had been almost a second away, from dropping into my bedroom. I placed my hand in Sam's.
Sam's hand felt warm and protective.
He held my fingers, the entire time in the elevator and only broke away to dig out his key and unlock his door.
He gave me a sidelong glance.
"If that had happened to my mom or sister, no way would I have let them sleep there…if that makes you feel any better."
So, he had women in his life, that he cared about.
My heart melted a little.
He opened his door, to dozens of boxes littered everywhere.
"Sorry, I haven't truly unpacked yet. Thought I'd get to it this weekend."
He glanced at the couch, where a huge blue bin, took up most of the cushion. DVDs were piled on top and spilling over the sides.
"Um, listen…" I was about to tell him it was cool, I'd go back downstairs, but then he grabbed my hand and led me to his bedroom.
It was the only room in the apartment, not filled to the brim, with boxes.
A queen bed sat in the center of the room, with a black and grey checkered sheet and comforter set.
Very understated.
Very cozy.
Very male.
"You can sleep in my bed," he offered.
I blinked back my surprise.
Not that I hadn't been in a man's bed before, but this felt so different.
Probably because this wasn't under any sexual circumstances. This was a caring and concerned gesture.
He motioned to the living room.
"I'm gonna sleep out here."
"No way, Sam. I'm not taking your bed." I turned toward the door. "I'll sleep out there."
"Please, don't argue." He backed out of the doorway. "I'll be close to the door, so no worries. Besides, we're up on the fifth floor. Good night."
Something clicked inside my very core.
He wasn't interested in me, in the same way other men were…at least I didn't think he was…and he wasn't going to take advantage of me.
I actually felt safe, even though I wasn't in control. At least not in control for the moment.
"Wait." I looked back at the bed. "Which side do you normally sleep on?" He pointed to the side nearest the door.
I smiled and walked over to the far end of the bed and began unbuttoning my jeans. His spot will not be taken up by me.
He gazed at me a second more, before shutting the door.
I slid out of my jeans and hoodie and slipped inside his sheets.
They smelled like him.
Coconut, spice, and all male.
I heard Sam outside the door, sliding boxes around, opening and closing, what was, maybe, the linen closet, and then getting situated.
Twenty minutes later I was still awake and feeling restless.
I decided to get a cold glass of water.
I slid open the bedroom door, tiptoed into the darkened room, and nearly tripped over Sam.
I'd assumed, he was going to be on the couch, but instead, he was on the cold, hard floor.
Guilt twisted in my gut.
"So sorry," I muttered. "Just getting a glass of water."
His eyes were opened, and his gaze caressed my body.
I was back to wearing my white sleep shirt, and I could have sworn, I saw longing flicker in his eyes.
"The glasses are in the cupboard, on the left side of the sink," he said.
"Thank you."
At least, he had unpacked his dishes.
I poured a glass and took big gulps of the water, trying to decide what to do.
Sam was obviously awake and uncomfortable on the floor.
He hadn't even attempted to move the boxes off his couch.
I padded back to him and held out my hand, much the same way, he'd done to me earlier.
"Come on."
"Huh?"
He sat up.
He didn't have a shirt on, and I tried not to stare at his taut chest and stomach.
I didn't quite succeed.
I also caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his abdomen, and I made a mental note, to ask about it later.
"No questions," I said.
He grabbed hold of my hand and I yanked him up and into his room.
He was wearing blue boxer briefs, and I averted my eyes from the front of his shorts.
"I promise not to bite, and I'll stay on my side of the bed," I playfully said.
He apparently found that amusing, because he shook his head, a grin indenting the side of his cheek.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
He slid into the sheets and sighed, like he was glad to be back in his own bed.
I lay down and turned my back to him, my senses heightened and my body on high alert.
The tension between us was palpable. But it was different somehow.
I didn't want him to paw me, or screw me senseless. Instead, I wanted his arms around me, his lips nuzzling my neck and then, kissing me slow and soft.
I was pretty sure, I could get lost in those lips.
Damn, I wanted him.
In a totally different way.
A way I hadn't felt since Mike, my first boyfriend, when I was sixteen years old. Before Tom ruined us. Ruined me.
Maybe I could have him.
Just to lose myself in. To make me forget.
"You gonna be able to sleep?" Sam asked, in a raspy, sexy voice, that reverberated through my bones. "Are you still thinking about what happened?"
I wasn't, but I said so anyway.
"Yeah."
He inched his body closer to me and I immediately felt his heat.
His fingers reached out tentatively, and I almost arched my back to accept them.
Then he rubbed my shoulder in delicate circles.
"Don't worry, you're safe with me. Try to get some sleep."
My entire body tingled, from head to toe. But somehow, after a few minutes, his fingers had lulled me into a blissful sleep.
I opened my eyes, as sunlight flooded the room, creating slanted lines across the bed.
Sam was no longer next to me, but I heard him tinkering., on the other side of the door.
Did I really sleep in this guy's bed?
Because, I was afraid to sleep alone? Truth is, I did.
Climbing out of the warm sheets, I eased back into my jeans and hoodie.
I padded to the bathroom and saw what a wreck I was.
My hair was in tangles and my eyes looked a bit tired.
I splashed cold water on my face, to wake me up and then used one of Sam's blue hand towels, that hung neatly near the sink, to dry it.
Peeking at some of the toiletries on his counter, I discovered his expensive coconut shampoo.
I snapped the top open and took a quick sniff, before placing it back where it belonged.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Sam was standing in the living room, holding a steaming mug of coffee, for me.
"This is about all I can offer you this morning. Do you take cream or sugar?"
"Black is fine, and you offered me plenty last night."
"Not a problem," he said, sitting down, on the one section of the couch, not littered with stuff.
He motioned to the chair across the room, as he sipped from his mug...one he had cleared for me, it seems.
He was already showered and dressed.
His hair was less unruly, when it was wet, and today he wore grey jeans, a black T-shirt, and black motorcycle boots.
Now, he looked more like a tattoo artist.
"You're going to work today?" I asked.
"Yeah, Matt's got me scheduled for a full day of tats."
Hearing his boss's name roll off his tongue, made me squirm.
Matt ended up wanting more from me, than just one evening.
He wanted to take me to dinner the next night, and I'd refused.
"You know those frat boys…always want those tats in prominent places, to show off their school spirit," he said.
"I'd better let you get to it, then…don't want to keep them waiting," I said. And then,"Besides, I've got to get ready for work, too."
"Please, stay and finish your coffee, at least." I hesitated for a beat.
"Sure, for another minute, so I don't have to return your cup."
He was watching me, so I looked around, like I was taking in the place.
Except nothing was unpacked, so I stared at the contents of the opened boxes.
His entire life had been dumped right here, in bins, in the living room, and somehow it felt too personal, too intimate, to be standing in the middle of it all.
"So, no roommate, huh?"
"I actually do have someone moving in next month."
"A girlfriend?" I didn't even know why I asked. It was none of my damn business.
"No, no girlfriend. Not yet. I've seen someone, a couple of times this past month, but, we'll see where that leads."
He watched my eyes, as if to gauge my reaction.
He didn't have to offer me any of that information, but I got the feeling he wanted to.
Maybe, to give a hint, that he wasn't interested. Or that he wasn't attached, yet. I wasn't sure which.
"Anyway, my friend, will be moving in here next month." He tilted his head. "You know…the one you met at the party?" I fiddled with the hem of my shirt.
"Oh yeah… Noah, right?" Sam nodded, and then his voice took on a serious tone.
"Can I ask you a question, Mercedes?"
"Sure." I finally sat down across from him, on the upholstered chair, he'd cleared for me.
"How come…?" He looked down, breaking eye contact with me. "How come you didn't go for my friend? I mean, besides the fact that he was so blatant. But girls usually fall for that."
Was he asking because he was curious, or because he was interested?
Should I go for unabashed honesty here?
All at once I stood up and started pacing.
"I don't know."
Trying not to look so obviously rattled, I strode over to the window, to stare at his lackluster view of the parking lot.
"Normally, I'd be all for that. I'm a no-strings-attached kind of girl..."
As I turned back to look at him, his face showed a flicker of disappointment, before he recovered.
Now, I was the one trying to gauge his reaction. I decided to continue with my honesty.
"But, I wasn't interested in him that night."
"You weren't?" His voice was low and soft.
"Nope." I looked down, hoping he had gotten my message loud and clear. "Can I ask you a question now?"
"Go for it." I cleared my throat, which had suddenly gone dry.
"How come you told him to back off? I mean…I didn't see you talking to any girls and it wasn't like you were talking to me. Would Noah really have gotten out of hand? Because I'm pretty sure, I could've handled him all by myself."
"Number one...Noah talked to you first," he said, taking a quick sip of coffee from his mug. "I mean, it makes sense…who would spot a beautiful girl across the room and not want to talk to her?"
I've heard that same line, dozens of times from guys, but somehow, coming from him, it felt more real.
More direct.
More sincere.
I felt a slow burn, smoldering in my stomach, so I decided to deflect, how affected I was by his words.
"Is there a number two?"
"Huh?" He moved his gaze away from my lips and back up to my eyes.
Something stirred inside my chest…most likely his chromosomal superiority revving me up.
"You said that was number one."
"Oh . . . yeah," he said, tucking a smirk in the side of his cheek.
"And number two, I figured you were the kind of girl, who ate guys up and spit them out for sport. But even still, I thought it was best to say something. Noah can be a dick, sometimes."
Was that his way of admitting, that he was intimidated by me?
In an ideal world, I wouldn't be such a player, because I wanted him.
All to myself.
And right at this very moment, as I leaned against the window ledge.
"What gave you that impression of me?"
"The way you carry yourself." He shrugged. "Confident. Self-assured."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No way." His fingers fumbled through his hair. "It's sexy as hell."
Right now, our pheromones were breathing the same air. Nuzzling up against each other. Swapping saliva.
"I figured, I…I mean…Noah, would be no match for you, anyway," he practically mumbled.
"Some guys like to take things a bit slower," he finished.
Was this guy for real?
Suddenly I felt like a bonafide man-eater. A Slutasaurusrex.
"Hmm…guess I didn't take Noah, as the relationship type of guy," I said.
A deep shade of plum tinged his cheeks.
We were speaking in code here, but we both knew the real deal.
"And just by association, as Noah's friend, I figured you must be the same way."
"Not true. I'm a commitment kind of guy."
His voice was low and smooth. Like he was very sure of himself, on that one point. He looked at me and smiled, then finished with,
"If the right girl comes along."
Stay safe and stay blessed.