Chapter 9: The Sweetest Torture

Rick's POV

In seconds, she fell asleep, completely snuggled up against me. The tension that had been holding her rigid all morning finally melted away, and she drifted off, her breathing turning slow and shallow.

Her scent was just so intoxicating—a delicate mix of vanilla and sweet feminine that completely filled my senses. The way her hair fell on the sides of her face was immaculate, framing her pale skin perfectly.

I stared down at her, a heavy, familiar ache settling deep in my chest. I know she’s too good for me, and she’s older than me, but I can’t seem to get her out of my system. No matter how hard I try to maintain my distance, she pulls me right back in.

Suddenly, Samantha let out a cute, quiet whimper sound in her sleep.

My heart skipped a beat. A violent, sudden jolt struck my chest, the sound completely dismantling whatever armor I had left. I feel like a teenager with his first crush, completely captivated by every single breath she takes.

Carefully, using the tip of my finger, I shifted the stray strands of her hair behind her ears, just wanting to admire her without anything getting in the way. With her face cleared, her luscious lips were in full display.

The sudden, suffocating need to kiss her completely overwhelmed me. God, I want to kiss her so bad.

Before my brain could stop me, I began to move my lips closer to hers. The world narrowed down to the heat of her skin and the perfect curve of her mouth. But just when I was millimeters away, tasting the very air she breathed, I froze.

I stopped. I forced myself to pull back, my jaw clenching tightly as I exhaled a ragged breath.

I shouldn't. I need to give her time. She was vulnerable, exhausted, and picking up the pieces of a broken heart. I wasn't going to take advantage of that.

Fifteen minutes later, the quiet click of the front door signaled Louis's return. My chauffeur stepped into the apartment, carrying a bag of fresh food from the cafe, along with a separate container of ice cream he’d smartly picked up. I gave him a silent nod, pointing toward the kitchen.

"Drop it at the counter and leave," I ordered in a low, quiet murmur so I wouldn't disturb her. Louis nodded respectfully, set the items down, and slipped back out without a sound.

The medicine had done its job, and the color was returning to her face. It was time to wake her up before the food got cold.

"Hey, Sammie... wake up. Food is here." I gently tapped her shoulders, my voice dropping to a soft rumble.

She made the cutest sound I had ever heard. "Mmmhh," she mumbled, her long eyelashes fluttering open as she blinked against the morning light. "Okay, I actually am quite hungry now."

Then, reality caught up to her. She froze, realizing she wasn't just resting against the sofa—she was completely lying on me, her body draped over my lap.

A bright, beautiful color flushed into her cheeks. "Oh shit," she gasped, scrambling backward into the opposite corner of the couch. "I must have dozed off on you. Gosh, I hope I didn't drool."

She furrowed her brows in pure mortification, looking down at my t-shirt to check for damp spots.

I let out a low laugh, the tightness in my chest completely dissolving at how adorable she was. "You're good, Sammie."

"You're sure?" she asked, her baby blue eyes scanning my body. Before I could stop her, she reached out, her small, soft hands absentmindedly examining my chest and shoulders, checking the fabric as if to prove to herself she hadn't made a mess.

The feel of her palms sliding over my chest set my blood on fire. My muscles locked instantly.

I moved fast, wrapping my fingers around her wrists and firmly holding both her hands in mine to freeze them in place. My grip was gentle but unyielding.

"Samantha," I warned, my voice dropping into a dangerously dark, rough register, my green eyes locking onto hers with burning intensity. "If you keep touching me like that, drooling would be the last thing we'd be worried about."

Sammie blushed again, a deep crimson staining her neck and cheeks as the weight of my words hit her.

"I love it when you blush," I said, a slow, appreciative smirk returning to my lips.

"I don't blush," she argued quickly, lifting her chin and trying her absolute best to sound unaffected.

I looked at her pretty, flushed face and the rapid beat of the pulse in her throat.

"If you say so," I murmured, letting her hands go, but keeping my eyes locked on hers.