Chapter 17: Kiss me, choke me

Samantha’s POV)

I could feel his breath on me. He was so close, his heavy, ragged exhales fanning across my skin, but… why wasn’t he closing the distance?

Rick, kiss me. Please…

But he didn't.

I pried my eyes open, staring straight up into his panicked, intense face. "Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to go for what you clearly want?"

He looked flustered. Good.

The small victory sent a thrill through my veins as I watched his expression turn incredibly dark. His eyes shifted colors right before my eyes, bleeding from a vivid, intense green to a deep, dangerous forest shade. 

He brought his face so close—so close that the heat radiating from his massive frame wrapped around me, and I could practically feel the physical ache of desire rolling off his body.

"I don't want to lose my fucking control with you, Samantha," he growled, his rough fingers tangling in my hair, anchoring me to the table. "Your body is incredible. Perfect. But I'm not the one for you. I can't risk your life."

Before the weight of his warning could even register, he grabbed the paper drape, pulling it up over my bared chest to cover my body from his sight.

"Rick, it doesn't have to mean anything," I said, leaning closer to him despite the barrier between us. He smelled so good—expensive cologne, and pure male heat. "Let's just get this weird, intense sexual tension out of the way."

Driven by a sudden burst of boldness, I moved to wrap my arms around his neck, determined to pull him down to me. But he was faster. In a flash, he caught my wrists, enwrapping my hands in his strong, iron fists.

"Get dressed, Samantha," he ground out, pinning my hands down. "I'll drop you off."

I looked up into his tense face, a dark thrill shooting straight down my spine. I loved how rough he was getting with me. I loved knowing that my touch was a threat to his perfect discipline.

"You've made your point," I said, keeping my voice steady. "You can let go of me now."

He released my wrists slowly, as if ensuring he wouldn't accidentally touch another inch of my bare skin. When he finally let go and stepped back, I sat up, the paper drape slipping down. That was when I actually saw the mirror on the wall.

The tattoo was perfect. The lines of the butterfly were unbelievably clean, the shading intricate and soft against my skin.

"It's perfect, Rick," I breathed, looking from my reflection to his dark face. "Thank you."

His gaze dropped to the fresh ink resting right beneath the curve of my breast, his expression softening into something raw and entirely too intense.

"Everything is perfection on you, Sammie."

That little statement. It was just a few words, and yet it completely undid the wall he had just tried to build between us.

Our eyes locked, the air growing thick and heavy in the quiet room.

"I... I should put my dress on," I whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed I still was.

Rick swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he forced his eyes to leave my body.

"Right.”

                    ~~~~

"How the fuck does he see a perfect fucking set of tits and not act on it?" Chloe said, ruthlessly twisting the screw cap off a bottle of Pinot Noir.

She poured a generous amount into two mismatched mugs on my nightstand, shaking her head in sheer disbelief. I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, carefully checking the edges of the fresh bandage Rick had placed over my skin. My body still felt like it was humming, the memory of his heavy frame hovering over me making my cheeks burn hot.

"Something about him just makes me want to tap into the wild side of me that I never knew existed, you know?" I confessed, leaning back against my pillows and clutching a mug to my chest. It was the absolute truth. Around Rick, the quiet, safe version of me completely vanished. He made me want to push boundaries. He made me want to be dangerous.

"I hear you, girl," Chloe said, handing me my drink before hopping onto the mattress beside me. She took a long sip, her eyes gleaming with absolute amusement. "The man has the restraint of a literal saint. Or he’s just completely terrified of how fast he’d fall if he actually took a bite."

"Enough about me," I said, a deflection tasting sweet on my tongue as I grinned at her. I pointed a finger at the fresh wrap on her thigh. "Your tattoo is fire."

"So was the artist, girl," she said, bursting into a loud, infectious laugh that instantly lightened the heavy weight in my chest. "Honestly, the way he was holding my leg? I almost asked him to ink my entire body right then and there."

I laughed along with her, but as the giggles faded into the quiet comfort of my bedroom, Rick's gravelly warning echoed right back into my head.

I can't risk your life.

I stared down into the dark swirl of my wine, the playful mood suddenly shifting. Chloe noticed the change instantly, her laughter dying down as she nudged my shoulder with hers.

"Hey," she said softly. "What are you not telling me?”