DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. OBVIOUSLY.
PLEASE READ:
OKAY FOLKS. THIS IS A BIT OF A WEIRD CHAPTER. IT'S WHAT I'M REFERRING TO AS A PREQUEL TO THIS STORY. SOMETHING FROM SAM AND FLACK'S PAST THAT A FEW PEOPLE ASKED ME TO TOUCH ON. AND I COULDN'T RESIST.
THIS CHAPTER WAS COWRITTEN WITH MY BEST GAL CASS (CSINYMINUTE) AND BEARS A STRONG M RATING. SHE GRACIOUSLY 'PENNED' THE SMUT AT THE BEGINNING, SO IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE, PLEASE JUMP AHEAD. EVERYTHING AFTER THE DIRTY BELONGS TO ME! SO PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU GIVE HER PROPS! SHE DESERVES THEM!
SO THANKS CASSIE! HUGS AND KISSES!
On/Off AKA: The Missing 'Drive Home Scene'
"Walking the streets with you and your worn-out jeans
I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be
Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself
Hey, isn't this easy?
And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town
I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down
You say you're fine, I know you better than that
Hey, what ya doing with a girl like that?
She wears high heels, I wear sneakers
She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you're looking for has been here the whole time
If you could see that I'm the one who understands you
Been here all along, so why can't you see?
You belong with me."
-Taylor Swift, You Belong With Me
"You are a total bastard Don Flack, do you know that?" said his companion, fanning herself off in the passenger seat.
Don Flack concentrated on his driving and smirked. He thought it was as funny as all hell.
"Did you seriously have to go feed me that chocolate?" she asked, "At the scene? I mean did you know what was in it?"
"Yeah," he finally replied, grinning.
"Damiana, Don, Jesus, do you know what that stuff does?" she said.
"I may have overheard the manufacturer mentioning something about increased libido," he finally acknowledged.
"Yeah," she said, "But did you have to feed me it right before we went to Hawkes' birthday party?"
Flack allowed himself a little chuckle. It had been funny as all hell to watch her getting increasingly flustered and wound up as she'd sunk one B-52 after another. He'd finally taken pity on her about half an hour ago and agreed to drive her home before, as she had so eloquently put it, done something stupid with half the precinct or the lab and have to move to the other side of the country to escape the gossip.
He glanced at the woman still fanning herself off as he turned into her street. She was writhing in her seat, squirming every now and then and the action made her short skirt ride up a little more with each movement. Flack swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry. He almost missed her next question.
"So how come you and Jess were avoiding each other?" she asked. Flack's mouth settled in a grim line.
"Because we're taking a break," he bit out. His passenger straightened herself up, and Flack tried not to notice he now had a real good view of her perfect thighs.
"Again?" she said, "Trouble in paradise?"
Flack sighed.
"It's a long story," he admitted, "And I don't want to get into it right now. We're having issues. Again. Let's just leave it at that."
"Okies," she said, apparently satisfied.
He pulled the car into the curb. His passenger made no move to get out.
"So," he said.
"So," she replied. Flack cleared his throat and tried not to focus on the fact that a hot and bothered woman was now looking thoughtfully at him.
"So I'll see you tomorrow?" he prompted. She flashed him a brilliant smile in reply.
Her next move surprised the hell out of him. One second she was in her seat. The next she was astride him. Flack's body tightened uncomfortably at the feel of her so close; her scent intoxicating him. He told himself he meant to take hold of her hips, but her skirt had ridden up so much that he firmly got a hold...
Of her bare ass. And worse, although she was wearing panties, he realised they were the crotch-less kind. He swore internally and firmly placed her back in her seat, before mentally thinking of every single bad crime scene he had ever witnessed to try and get his now-raging libido - and painful erection - under control. His passenger pouted back at him.
"I was only going to climb out your side," she said, "So I don't get hit by traffic in my intoxicated state."
Like hell, he thought. He tried to calm down his breathing. And failed. The next thing he knew, a knowing little smile came over his passenger's face as she turned to him and her hands started to walk towards him.
"I didn't have any bad thoughts in my mind Don," she informed him, "But now..."
For some reason, he was absolutely frozen, watching as her hands started to roam over his legs, moving up his thighs until they got to the waistband of his pants and settled on his belt. He took a sharp intake of breath, hissing as her hands caught sensitive areas on their travels. As he went to grab her hands, he suddenly took a lurch backwards as she grabbed the lever on the underside of the driver's seat, sending the chair flat. He was effectively trapped by the belt and the fact that she was between his hands and the release button for the belt. He saw the look of triumph and felt her hands begin to tackle his belt.
The button.
Heard the hiss of the zipper as she dragged it down.
And nearly hit his head on the roof of the car as he felt her hands inside his trousers, undoing the button of his boxers, her hands around his smooth, hard cock, lifting it out of the fabric.
He finally managed to get a hold of her hands, stopping her movements.
"Jesus Sammie!" he bit out, "What the hell are you doing? We're in the front seat of the car on your street for christsakes!"
"The windows are tinted Don," the petite brunette informed him, her golden brown eyes dancing with amusement and the promise of something more, right before she swatted his hands out of the way and bent her head over him.
And any further thought of protest, that this couldn't happen, was totally forced from his mind as he felt her tongue with no preamble encircling the head of his rock hard cock and let her tongue play with every little ridge and smooth surface as her hands delved further into his crotch, one taking hold of him and stroking up and down as the other took gentle hold of him and stroked him between his thighs. His hands gripped the sides of the seat and his head jerked backwards as he realised the Brooklyn girl had her tongue pierced. And it was doing incredible things for him, orally speaking. He felt pre cum oozing from him as she lapped away, before taking more of him into her mouth and sucking, first gently, then harder, causing him to swear and his hands took a hold of her head, guiding it, jerking his hips up into her mouth and her magic tongue.
Damn the girl was talented with her mouth. And damn it all to hell if it wasn't hotter than any of those private little fantasy moments and daydreams he'd had about her over the last year. And, if he was honest, the fact they were in the front seat of his car? That they could get caught at any moment despite the tinted glass? Turned him on even hotter than hell. This was way more intense than even... Bianca DeFazio in the back seat of his father's car.
He felt the sweat bead on his forehead before running down his temples and forehead, the heat rising with him as he felt himself get even harder, rock hard. He could feel his balls contract slightly, drawing up into his body and he knew he was close. Real close.
"Gonna cum," he panted, his hands tightening in her hair, thrusting up to meet the sweet movements of her tongue and mouth. Her response was to grip him more firmly, to suck harder, bringing him even closer. He could feel the inevitability of his orgasm on him, the need to let it all go, the fact there was no way back from his release. He panted and groaned as what she was doing tipped him over the edge and he came in several burning hot gushes into her mouth.
She wasn't quite done. She lapped it all up, despite the fact he was now so sensitive he was begging her to stop, the grazing of the metal on her tongue across his rapidly softening flesh, occasionally marked by last uncontrollable jerks as she fully milked him dry into her mouth.
Then she stopped. He groaned once more, stroking her hair as she slowly propped herself back upright. Blue eyes met golden brown. She smiled at him.
Then she grabbed her bag from where it had rested below her feet, scrambled across him again, pausing only to kiss him on the cheek, giving him a broad smile as she bid him goodnight.
He watched her go for about a minute or so, stumbling on her heels, one hand on the lamp post as she kicked them off, her bag hanging from the straps on one arm, steadying herself as she stooped to pick up her shoes. Then he watched her giggling, as she half climbed, half stumbled up the stoop to her building.
And that was pretty much all it took.
He straightened his clothes, yanked at the door handle and hurried into the building after her, only stopping to lock the door of the car. As Sam disappeared through the door, he just made it up the stairs behind her, managing to gain entrance as the doors to the elevators closed. He could hear her humming happily. Cursing, he took the stairs two at a time, hoping to get to her floor before she did.
Luck was against him, but as he rounded the corner, striding purposefully, he saw her standing in front of her door, frowning at her bunch of keys, trying to figure out which one was the right one...
When she felt someone slam into her back, one hand pulling her waist to him, the other dragging her skirt up to her waist. Right there in the hall way. For two seconds she panicked, thinking it was someone who'd snuck up on her. Then his scent assailed her, she felt his hot breath on her neck and his hand roughly roaming her belly, moving south to where the fabric split in two, revealing her hot, slick flesh to his waiting fingers. He kissed her neck as she slammed her hands on the door, gasping at the sensations he was creating with his fingers.
"Did you think we were done?" he asked roughly. She nodded, before her head fell slackly back onto his shoulder before his fingers found her slick opening and gently probed inside.
"Then I think you better open your door unless you want this to go down right here," he said.
But he didn't let up the movements of his fingers or his mouth as she frantically tried each key on the ring until finally, one fit, the door opened and the two of them stumbled into her apartment.
She didn't know if the door was closed or not and frankly she didn't care. What she did care about was the fact that there was six foot two of Flushing, Queens bad boy pinning her against the wall, insisting she hold onto his neck as his fingers did magic things to her.
He currently had two fingers inside her, thrusting gently. His thumb was circling her clit, pressing down every now and then. He hadn't kissed her, but his gaze was locked with hers, blue on golden. Watching her as her skin flushed, as she bit her lip, as she threw her head back against the wall. As she moaned and gasped as his hands elicited wonderful feelings and sensations from her body. She felt the orgasm building within her. His legs nudged hers further apart and he stepped closer, bracing her body between his hips and the wall. She had to put both arms around his neck to hold on as his second hand moved to join the first.
Now there were three fingers inside her, moving, thrusting, stimulating her g-spot. The buzz from the cocktails and the damiana-tainted chocolate had her libido sky high. She wasn't going to dismiss aphrodisiacs from now on that was for sure. The other hand came to stimulate her clit, his thumb and forefinger pinching it lightly, causing her to cry out.
Then she too felt the unmistakeable, undeniable approach of her own orgasm and nothing in hell was going to stop it. She gripped him tightly, winding her legs around his waist as her muscles contracted around his hands, her belly rippling with the orgasm and she bit him where his neck met his shoulder.
She felt exhausted. Wiped out. But he still hadn't stopped moving his hands. He was moving them more gently now, as though he knew she wouldn't be able to handle anything too intense and a second, gentler orgasm, followed on the tail of the intense first one and she nearly blacked out from the sensation of it.
She could feel herself in the arms of a strong embrace, being carried somewhere. She felt herself being gently placed on the bed and some of her clothes being removed, before a blanket was pulled up over her. She murmured drowsily, feeling a pair of lips kiss her on the forehead.
"Sleep well Sammie," he said.
He let himself out, bouncing down the stairs with a light feel to his step he hadn't felt for a while, grinning to himself at the events of the previous thirty minutes or so.
The feel of his phone vibrating in his pocket brought him back to the present. He snagged it from his pocket, frowning as he saw the ID of the missed call.
Jess.
And they did have to talk.
He sighed.
If he hadn't been convinced before about the future of their relationship, he sure was now.
Samantha's eyes snapped open as the shrill of ring of her phone rudely interrupted her sleep. Rest hadn't come easily the night before. The way Flack had gently and almost lovingly tucked her in -the feathery kiss to her forehead and the tender way in which he'd both undressed her and then bid her farewell- had shocked her. It was a side of him she hadn't been prepared to witness.
For nearly a year, she'd been a witness to - and felt completely intimidated by- his aggressive, cocky and often brash demeanour. She'd found herself on multiple occasions, both amused and slightly stunned and uncomfortable with the sarcastic remarks that seemed to trickle so effortlessly out of his mouth. And while she'd never shied away from sticking up for herself and giving him a well deserved tongue lashing that left him at a loss for words, she always retreated to the locker room afterwards, and tucking herself into a far corner, allowed herself to have a good cry. While cursing him for hurting her feelings and questioning why he hated her so much and declaring her utter contempt for him.
Last night had been….incredible. While her eager and willing responses had had a lot to do with the Damiana laced chocolate he'd given her and the insane amount of alcohol she'd consumed, she knew part of her behaviour had to be blamed on the fact she was incredibly attracted to him. She'd been battling increasing feelings for him while witnessing him date air head Devon Maxford and then Jessica Angell. One of her dearest friends and confidants.
Jealousy was a bitch. Jess was the popular, beautiful one. The girl every guy wanted and who had the equally hot boyfriend on her arm. Like the head cheerleader dating the captain of the football team while all the social misfit and proverbial ugly duckling can do is watch from the sidelines and wish it was her.
Don Flack had made her feel things no man had ever been capable of. An all consuming, blinding passion that had rocked her to her very soul. A lust so strong and overwhelming, that Damiana or no Damiana, she was powerless to resist.
And that fact had immediately shamed her. No sooner had she heard the click of her apartment door as he left himself out, she had been wide awake, staring at the ceiling and berating herself for what had happened. It had been foolish. Totally stupid. Incredibly whore-ish, in fact. And she was disgusted with herself for even initiating the contact in his car. She knew she should have just said goodnight and climbed out of the vehicle and went upstairs. She knew she should have never let the substances in her body and the close proximity of him and his smell overcome her like it did.
She had, in the span of a half hour, gone from new girl to station house slut. And she would deserve every ounce of gossip and unwanted attention his locker room talk would cause.
Her head reeling and her stomach lurching from a ferocious hang over, Sam reached out for her cell phone resting on the nightstand and scooped it up. Her eyes widening and both nervousness and dread filling her as she checked her caller ID.
DET. D. FLACK
Her thumb hovered over the talk button as her brain struggled to piece together what she'd say to him. She would tell him that what had happened was a huge mistake. A monumental one, in fact. That she regretted it and wished it never happened. That the best thing for them to do was forget it ever happened and just carry on the way they had been for the past year. Colleagues. Occasional confidants and drinking buddies. Friends.
Or she could tell him the truth.
That while she felt horrible for betraying Jess, she didn't regret what had happened. She had wanted it to happen. She could have stopped it if she'd really wanted to. No was a simple word. One he wasn't the type to ignore. She could tell him that she was in love with him. That she had been since nearly the second she'd laid eyes on him. Attracted to his slightly greying hair and his brilliant blue eyes. His deep voice and his Queens accent. His broad shoulders and chest and his powerful arms. And his smile. One that nearly brought her to her knees each time he unleashed it on her.
She could tell him that she hadn't wanted him to leave the night before. That she had wanted him to stay. That she had wanted him to sleep beside her in her bed and envelope her in those large, strong arms. That she had wanted to feel his breath against her skin and hear his heart beat within his chest.
That she was never going to let him go. That he belonged with her.
Sighing, Sam ran the pad of her thumb over the talk button before finally deciding, and acting on, her only course of action.
She disconnected the call.
The day had gone from bad to worse in the blink of an eye.
A would be robber, hoped up on a cocktail of illegal substances, had attempted to hold up an elderly couple -tourists from Texas strolling through Strawberry Fields- for their wallets and jewellery. The husband had refused to cough up any of the belongings, and had briefly struggled with the gunman. The weapon had accidentally gone off, fatally wounding the old man and sending the perp running through the park. He'd been caught nearby by a mounted police man who'd heard the gunshot and who'd immediately both called for back up and headed for the scene.
What should have been an open and shit case, a 'score one for the good guys', had taken a weird twist. One that had landed their perp in even more hot water when he'd suddenly snapped during his interrogation when asked about his prior arrest for domestic assault against his mother. Hawkes and Sam had been confident they'd be able to handle the questioning on their own. And despite Flack's protests, Mac had given his CSIs the go ahead. But had, along with the agitated homicide detective, watched and listened to everything from behind the one way glass in the observation room.
Flack hadn't been having a good day to start off with. He hadn't been able to sleep since returning home from the incident in front of, and inside, Samantha Ross' apartment. He'd left feeling rejuvenated. Not even Jess' call had ruined the mood he was in. What had happened between him and Sam had been unbelievably erotic and memorable. He'd never, ever felt that attracted and turned on by any woman. And he'd been with his fair share. Not exactly the man whore people thought he was, but not a boy scout either.
What he felt for Sam went far beyond sex. She captivated him in a way he'd never experienced before. Maybe it was the two very distinct sides to her personality. The innocent, almost naïve little girl trapped in a grown woman's body, and the seductive, alluring sex kitten that he'd been privy to the night before. Maybe it was because, during their nights out with the team, she seemed to be the one to listen to him when too much drink turned him into a sensitive, rambling, moronic idiot. Or maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled and her nose crinkled when she smiled at him. Or the melodic laugh she possessed and the way she tossed her head back when issuing that laugh while they played pool. After she'd successfully both convinced him she'd never played before, and happily accepted the money he pulled out of his wallet when she whipped his ass fair and square.
She was beautiful and intelligent and fun to be around. And up until last night, Flack had considered her way out of his league.
While he knew that her behaviour was most likely caused by the chocolate he'd fed her and the booze she'd consumed, there'd been something there. Something that had passed between them during that moment he'd had her pinned to her apartment door. An unspoken declaration of something more than just a moment of lust fuelled….
He wasn't even sure what had happened between them. What it could actually be called. It certainly wasn't sex in the pure definition of the act. And it went far beyond your average bout of foreplay. It was aggressive and intense and when their eyes had met…he had known right there and then that he was in way over his head.
And it neither terrified him or sent him running for the hills.
He had spent the entire night thinking about her and reliving what had happened. Every second of it. He'd answered Jess' call and had spent twenty minutes listening to her have a rare emotional breakdown over the pathetic state of their relationship. She was terrified of losing him. She was convinced he was her always and forever. Her future husband, father of her unborn children. And she wanted to do whatever it took to save what they had. Flack hadn't had the heart to tell her that he wasn't feeling the same way she was. And that he wanted out so he could be with someone else. A woman she viewed as her best friend. Instead he'd punked out and assured her that things were going to be okay. That they just needed a bit of space. A little while apart.
In the meantime, he'd think of Sam Ross and their little tryst would provide him fodder for all those lonely nights he'd be spending.
Flack had decided, as he called her on the way to work that morning, that he was going to tell Sam exactly how he was feeling. How he had been feeling for the past year. And that he was going to, as soon as his shift was over, tell Jess they were done. Only she hadn't answered the phone and he'd immediately began to suspect that she was kicking herself for what had happened. And the cold shoulder she'd been giving him since the start of shift -the way she refused to make eye contact with him at the scene and insisted that Hawkes go with him to talk to witnesses- had left him agitated.
And hurt.
His plan had been to confront her after the interrogation. Wait for one of the uniforms to take their perp to Central Booking and for Mac and Hawkes to head upstairs before preventing her from leaving the room and locking the door and closing the blinds and having it out with her.
Verbally, of course. Although there were a million and one things he wanted to physically do to her.
Only that had been all forgotten about when all hell broke loose in the interrogation room. The perp had gone off the deep end over what he felt was slanderous statements about his mother, and before Hawkes or the uni at the door could even react, he'd grabbed a hold of Sam's right wrist and twisted it backwards. Initially stunned and after crying out in pain, she'd reacted by punching him square in the face with her left fist. Startling him momentarily before he hauled off and backhanded her across the face. Sending her tumbling off the chair as both Hawkes and the uni went for their weapons just as Mac and Flack burst through the door.
Flack had nearly killed the guy. And probably would have if Mac hadn't had physically peeled his hands from around the perp's neck. He'd been filled with a terrifying, blinding rage that he'd never experienced before. He wasn't aware of anything that was going on around him. He didn't see Sam getting to her feet on her own accord, or her hear telling Hawkes that she was okay while he attempted to take a look at her. All Flack had seen or heard was the perp's face turning bright red as he struggled to draw breath through his quickly narrowing windpipe.
After Mac had managed to pry him away from their perp, Flack had personally seen to it that the guy didn't have the safest of journeys to a holding cell. With one hand on the scruff of his neck and the other firmly enclosed around the handcuffs securing his wrists behind his back, Flack had made sure he walked the sonofabitch into every desk, chair, trash can and wall that they encountered on the short journey from the interrogation room. And then, pretended he'd misjudged the distance to the rusted old cot in the cell when he shoved the prick backwards and let him fall ass first on the cold cement floor.
Mac hadn't said much when they'd met up in the hallway afterwards. But the look on the crime lab boss' face told Flack he had a hell of a lot of explaining to do later on.
"Get her some ice," Mac had ordered, then had stomped off towards the elevators.
Now, with a handful of ice cubes inside of a plastic bag in one hand and a glass of water in the other, Flack found himself pushing his way into the interrogation room, where the pandemonium had died down and Hawkes, latex gloves on his hands, hunkered down on his knees, was holding Sam's chin in his hand and investigating the cut under her eye and the swelling on her cheek as she was parked in a chair, eyes closed.
"What's the verdict, Doc?" Flack asked, noticing how Sam flinched and jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Definitely a sprained wrist," Hawkes replied. "She can wiggle her fingers and move her hand, so I'm not worried about it being anything more than that. I was just telling her that maybe we should go and have her cheek x-rayed. Doesn't take much to crack the orbital bone."
"Sounds like a good idea," Flack agreed.
"Unfortunately," Hawkes sighed as he stood up and snapped off his gloves. "I've encountered a very uncooperative patient."
"Brooklyn girls," the detective snorted. "Stubborn as hell. And she's the worst I've ever seen."
"She can hear you," Sam snapped. "I'm not unconscious, you know!"
"I want you to come and find me if that swelling gets any worse," Hawkes ordered. "That happens and…"
"I'll take her to the ER if that happens," Flack finished.
Sam's eyes flickered open and she glared at him. "I am fine," she spat out.
"Make sure she gets it looked at it if it does get worse," Hawkes told Flack, as he began gathering up papers that were strewn across the table and shoved them into case folder.
The detective nodded in agreement. Then reached out to hold the ice against Sam's face.
She jerked her head out of the way and snatched the bag out of his own. "I can do it," she informed him.
Flack placed the glass of water on the table and held up his hands in surrender.
"Good luck," Hawkes said, slapping a hand down on the other man's shoulder before hurrying from the room.
Flack shoved his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and rocked back and forth on his heels as a silence fell on the room. Knowing Sammie's temper and how hard headed she was, he knew the best thing to do was not ask her over and over again if she was okay. Instead, he waited several minutes before he finally said what was really on his mind.
"You've been avoiding me," he said, breaking the silence.
"I've been working," Sam corrected him.
"This morning you never answered my call," Flack told her. "And when you got to the scene you acted like I wasn't even there. And all day long you've been running away from me when you see me coming. What's up with that?"
She didn't respond.
"We need to talk, Sammie," Flack said. "About last night…"
"What about it?" she asked, wincing as she laid the ice against her cheek. "Fuck…" she hissed. "Why do men always get you right on the bone? Do you guys go to a special school to learn to hit in that exact spot every time?"
Flack frowned. "Not all men hit," he informed her.
She gave a small nod. "So last night…"
"I was thinking that…"
"I was really drunk and that chocolate did a number on me," she continued, ignoring him. "I wouldn't have acted like that under normal circumstances, you know that, right?"
"Sammie, I…"
"So I'm sorry for what happened," she said. "For coming on so strong. I'm not usually like that. Some trifling, nasty little whore."
"I never said that…"
"It never would have happened under normal circumstances," Sam told him. "And I just…I think the best thing for us to do would be to…"
"I'm breaking up with Jess," Flack announced.
Sam's eyes widened. "Because…"
"Because I can't be with her anymore. I can't keep pretending that I want to be with her when I want to be with…"
"With me?" she laughed at that. "Are you seriously delusional? Just because I gave you head and I let you do what you did doesn't mean that you have to break up with your girlfriend. Who just so happens to be one of my best friends. I'm not going to be the reason why things didn't work out between you two."
"You won't be," Flack promised. "Well…you won't be the main reason…"
"Jess is my friend," Sam maintained. "And I know how much she loves you and…"
"And if you knew all that and she's such a great friend you wouldn't have gone down on me in my car in front of your apartment on a public street," Flack snarled.
"Look…" Sam issued a heavy sigh as she got to her feet. "Last night…last night was good, Don. It was really, really good in fact. And I…I don't regret it, okay?"
"I don't regret it either," he said. "Which is why…"
"But it was still a mistake," she interjected. Her heart constricting at the pained expression that took over his face.
"It wasn't a mistake," he argued.
"It never should have happened and we both know that," Sam told him, her voice gentle.
"You could have told me to stop," he reminded her. "I would have stopped if you…"
"If I'd been in the right frame of mind. And I wasn't. And I know that this hurts to hear…but this…last night…it can never, ever, ever happen again. We need to just walk away from each other. Act like it never happened. You need to just…"
"I need to just what?!" he snapped. "Pretend that I'm not into you?! That I haven't felt something for you for an entire year?!"
Sam blinked, taken back by his honesty.
"I know how I feel, Sammie. I know what I want and who I want. And it's you and I…"
"I'm not listening to this," she said, and tossing the bag of ice on the table, prepared to head for the door.
Flack caught her by the arm, his fingers closing around her bicep. Turning her around and pulling her towards him, he laid his free hand on the side of her face and lowered his head to hers. Their lips briefly touching before she angrily shoved him away.
"Don't you ever do that again!" she bellowed, pushing him once more, his ass colliding hard with the metal table.
"Sammie…" he stepped towards her. "Just let me…"
"We're done! Nothing happened last night! Understand me?"
He shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Don. But I can't…I can't do this. Not with someone I work with. I was stupid and I acted like a total slut…"
"No, Sam. You…"
"And I need to walk away from you!" she cried. "I need to just walk away before both of us do something we regret. Last night was…I won't ever forget it, okay? Ever. But we need to…I need to…" she bit her lip and forced herself to get a grip on her composure. "I'm sorry," she said, and turning on her heel, rushed from the room.
Sighing heavily, Flack sat down on the edge of the table and ran his hands over his face.
Sam Ross may have had the last word, but one thing was certain.
He wasn't going to down without a fight.
THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT IS READING, REVIEWING AND EVEN JUST LURKING! I TRULY APPRECIATE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU! SORRY THINGS ARE SO SLOW RIGHT NOW! THE MUSE IS WRAPPED IN ANOTHER PROJECT SOMEWHERE ELSE!
