Sam’s Creed by Sarah McCarty Page A

at his face and she figured out his game.
    “You said that just to shock me!”
    Her breasts bobbed with indignation, the aftershocks reverberating along their heavy curves. He looped his arm around her chest, supporting her breasts on his forearm as he pulled her back against his shoulder. From here, he had a bird’s-eye view of her impressive cleavage. Deep and dark, it would take his cock perfectly. All he’d have to do was unbutton his pants, straddle her torso and he could be in heaven. Shit. She made him want. It was a struggle to find his voice. “Yes, I did.”
    She yanked the shirt as closed as she could over his arm. The garment wasn’t cut to contain such largesse. The best of her efforts still left him with a fine view.
    “Why?”
    That was an easy question. He gave her the easy answer. “I like you better spitting fire than I do apologizing for your existence.”
    “I was not apologizing for my existence, but I am not used to undressing in front of a man.”
    “Technically, I was undressing you.”
    She just stared at him. As if maybe she was losing her mind, or maybe she thought he was losing his.
    He dropped a kiss to the top of her head before leaning over to open the saddlebag. He fished around inside until he found the tin of salve. Leaning back, he said, “There is a difference, you know.”
    Her tongue eased over her lips in a slow glide of pink on pink. “I do?”
    He couldn’t take his eyes off the natural sensuality of the gesture. “You’re going to be hell on fire in bed, aren’t you?”
    “Honestly?”
    “Yes.”
    “I would like to think I could be.”
    He opened the jar of salve and scooped some onto his fingers. “Move your hands away from your chest.”
    She did cautiously, obviously having no idea how inflaming the slow tease of gradual exposure could be. He smoothed the salve over the patches of prickly heat on the side of her right breast.
    “So why the ‘could be’? Not that I’m complaining, but most young women aren’t concerned with the bedroom much, let alone how wild they’re going to be once they get there.”
    His forearm brushed her nipple. And every time, she gasped, his cock jerked, until he was pretty much one big throb, and it was all he could do to keep up the pretense that the only thing that was going on was him treating her injuries.
    “Eventually, Tejala will catch up with me.” She twisted her fingers together. “That will not be pleasant.”
    He stopped rubbing ointment into her breast and cradled it instead. She needed comfort. He wasn’t good at giving comfort.
    Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I do not think I will ever want to be touched again after that, so I think I would like to know the full pleasure of being a woman before it is taken from me.”
    Shit. “There’s such a thing as telling too much.”
    Her lashes rose, revealing what he didn’t want to see. Hurt. He’d hurt her. “I am sorry.” Buttoning her shirt, she inched away. “I talk too much.”
    She talked more than any woman he’d ever met. But strangely, it didn’t bother him. Because she also made him smile more than any woman he’d ever met. He sighed. “You might as well know from the get-go, I’m not good at this.”
    She sat stiff and unyielding, buttoning those damn buttons, not looking at him. “What is this? ”
    He tipped her chin up, cupping it so she couldn’t look away. “Soft words. They’re never there when I want them.”
    “Did you want them to be?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then we will trade. I will teach you soft words and you will teach me to love.”
    Sam wedged the lid back on the salve. He took longer than needed doing it. Bella didn’t struggle or fight, just rested against him. Accepting his decree the way she wouldn’t accept Tejala as her fate. If he was smart, he’d turn tail and run.
    “Making things between the sheets perfect for a woman is a tall order.”
    “I understand.” With a wave of her hand she granted him absolution. When