settled completely over the room and a crescent moon hung low on the horizon, lighting the night sky visible through the uncovered windows. Drifting in and out of a light sleep, she felt his mouth pull softly at her breast every so often, as if he was dozing, too.
She grinned, letting out a small laugh. Obviously, Sam was a tit man.
“I promise I’ll take you up to bed once I can feel my legs again.” His rough words vibrated against her nipple before he moved his head, his mouth easily finding the tip of her other breast. “It may take me a few hours, though.”
Softly moaning her agreement, Ali let the rhythmic pull lull her to sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
The problem with lies is that they multiplied. You could rarely tell only one. Just like a cockroach, when you caught one scurrying across your kitchen floor in the middle of the night, it was safe to assume there were more. Plenty more. They just hadn’t shown themselves yet.
When Ali had hatched her plan to get close to Sam, she knew she would have to tell a few. She was prepared for that. Compromising her morals and going against what her mama and daddy had taught her as a little girl was a small price to pay to get her life back. To ensure that Danny did the one and only thing she needed most and that was to leave her alone. She had taken extreme measures to ensure Sam Gleeson provided the physical deterrent and the rest was up to Danny. What she hadn’t planned for, though, were the sheer amount of lies. Or how horrible, how sick inside, she would feel when she told them.
It had been only two short weeks since Pete had crashed her pity party on the beach and she’d finally met her unknowing savior face to face, and the lies—no matter how white—were adding up. Her need to tell Sam the truth, the whole sorry story of her marriage, weighed on her every minute. And at this point, she wasn’t above begging this strong and generous man to forgive her, to fix it for her. And then to fall for her.
That was the kicker. The wrench in her plans. That was where this whole damn thing had gone horribly off course.
Because what Ali had not been prepared for, was the possibility that she would, or even could, actually fall in love with him. The kind of love that blindsided you, knocking you on your poor, unsuspecting ass before you knew what hit you. The kind where you could actually feel your heart clench, aching in longing simply from the need for another person. The kind Ali assumed didn’t exist.
Looking down at Sam now, as he slept soundly in his huge California king bed with its carved teak headboard and crisp, white sheets, she reluctantly admitted she was down for the count. It was like being splashed in the face with a ten gallon bucket full of cosmic fuck you .
The sky was just turning a hazy shade of dawn, providing enough light for her to see his ridiculously long eyelashes contrast with the dark, manly stubble covering his face. Tracing his brow with a feather light touch, Ali sighed and silently prayed to a God her mother swore on her life existed, pleading for a do-over. The last two weeks had been a whirlwind. Thanks to Sam’s enthusiastic encouragement, Ali felt ready to write again and she’d been in contact with Hilary Lee, her former editor and an outspoken, proudly vegan, hippie chick who wore only boho skirts and listened to Joni Mitchell albums all day. They’d worked through some initial proposals for a new project and after tossing around several high profile cases, Ali had settled on Jackie Warner, a beautiful brunette who’s desire to please her husband led her to assist him in the abduction, rape and murder of five women, including her own teenage niece. Serving several life sentences, Jackie publicly placed all responsibility for the horrific crimes on herself, relieving her cunning husband of all culpability regardless of the convictions that currently had him sitting on Texas’ death row. It was a twisted, yet fascinating love story
She grinned, letting out a small laugh. Obviously, Sam was a tit man.
“I promise I’ll take you up to bed once I can feel my legs again.” His rough words vibrated against her nipple before he moved his head, his mouth easily finding the tip of her other breast. “It may take me a few hours, though.”
Softly moaning her agreement, Ali let the rhythmic pull lull her to sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
The problem with lies is that they multiplied. You could rarely tell only one. Just like a cockroach, when you caught one scurrying across your kitchen floor in the middle of the night, it was safe to assume there were more. Plenty more. They just hadn’t shown themselves yet.
When Ali had hatched her plan to get close to Sam, she knew she would have to tell a few. She was prepared for that. Compromising her morals and going against what her mama and daddy had taught her as a little girl was a small price to pay to get her life back. To ensure that Danny did the one and only thing she needed most and that was to leave her alone. She had taken extreme measures to ensure Sam Gleeson provided the physical deterrent and the rest was up to Danny. What she hadn’t planned for, though, were the sheer amount of lies. Or how horrible, how sick inside, she would feel when she told them.
It had been only two short weeks since Pete had crashed her pity party on the beach and she’d finally met her unknowing savior face to face, and the lies—no matter how white—were adding up. Her need to tell Sam the truth, the whole sorry story of her marriage, weighed on her every minute. And at this point, she wasn’t above begging this strong and generous man to forgive her, to fix it for her. And then to fall for her.
That was the kicker. The wrench in her plans. That was where this whole damn thing had gone horribly off course.
Because what Ali had not been prepared for, was the possibility that she would, or even could, actually fall in love with him. The kind of love that blindsided you, knocking you on your poor, unsuspecting ass before you knew what hit you. The kind where you could actually feel your heart clench, aching in longing simply from the need for another person. The kind Ali assumed didn’t exist.
Looking down at Sam now, as he slept soundly in his huge California king bed with its carved teak headboard and crisp, white sheets, she reluctantly admitted she was down for the count. It was like being splashed in the face with a ten gallon bucket full of cosmic fuck you .
The sky was just turning a hazy shade of dawn, providing enough light for her to see his ridiculously long eyelashes contrast with the dark, manly stubble covering his face. Tracing his brow with a feather light touch, Ali sighed and silently prayed to a God her mother swore on her life existed, pleading for a do-over. The last two weeks had been a whirlwind. Thanks to Sam’s enthusiastic encouragement, Ali felt ready to write again and she’d been in contact with Hilary Lee, her former editor and an outspoken, proudly vegan, hippie chick who wore only boho skirts and listened to Joni Mitchell albums all day. They’d worked through some initial proposals for a new project and after tossing around several high profile cases, Ali had settled on Jackie Warner, a beautiful brunette who’s desire to please her husband led her to assist him in the abduction, rape and murder of five women, including her own teenage niece. Serving several life sentences, Jackie publicly placed all responsibility for the horrific crimes on herself, relieving her cunning husband of all culpability regardless of the convictions that currently had him sitting on Texas’ death row. It was a twisted, yet fascinating love story
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