He hit the shower and changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and was somewhat clearer headed. As long as he knew she was safe, that would have to be enough even though he wanted to go after her, he wanted to demand they talk now. To see with his own eyes that she was okay. But every logical instinct he owned told him that was a mistake. To back off, to let her come to him. Fear that she never would, though—that was killing him.
He remembered a saying his mother had always told him. “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it was never yours.” He had to let go. He had to know if she’d come to him. Sam crashed on his bed and forced himself to close his eyes.
And that was when the door to his room opened and shut again.
23
SAM SCOOTED UP the headboard, but he didn’t dare move any farther, and instinctively, he knew if he said anything, it could set off a firestorm of...he didn’t know what, but it wouldn’t be good.
“Undress,” she ordered. And Sam knew then that this was the Meagan from the first night in the truck, the one who’d planned to use sex to put him in his place, to control him. He wondered if she even realized what she was doing. But he did. He did, and he knew he was treading some rough terrain, because he couldn’t let her do that. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head, then made quick work of sliding his shorts and boxers down.
He lay back down against the headboard, his shaft hard and jutting forward. Her gaze raked over him, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, and it was all he could do not to reach down and wrap his hand around his cock. But it was so clear though, that she wanted complete control.
“Here I am, Meagan. Now what are you going to do with me?”
Her eyes lifted to his, glinted with a hint of anger. She’d told him not to call her sweetheart, and he hadn’t. Though having her tell him not to had definitely hurt, once he would have laughed it off and just called her sweetheart again.
“Don’t talk.” She dropped her purse to the floor, and began undressing. In a matter of seconds she would be in his arms, and he would make love to her. And he’d make damn sure she knew it wasn’t just sex.
He held his breath, watching as she revealed the pink sheer bra he loved so much. Her nipples, plump and rosy and beautiful, puckered at the combination of the cool air-conditioning and his hot inspection. Next came her slacks and then her thong—also pink and sexy as hell. His eyes traced her long, toned legs and settled on the tiny V he fully intended to explore with his tongue before this night was over. His cock throbbed, pulsed, demanded to be touched.
“Don’t move,” she said.
His gaze lifted to hers, lingering a moment on those beautiful breasts, before he said, “Whatever you say swe—Meagan.”
She inhaled, her expression flickering with an instant of emotion. She didn’t like that correction, and that pleased him. She sashayed toward him, but he didn’t miss the slight limp. She paused at the window beside him and yanked two curtain straps free, and instantly he knew she was after total control.
He let her climb on top of him, straddle him, teasing him by settling her perfect little backside against his erection. She held up the straps. “I know you don’t mind giving me control.” She leaned forward, pressing her hands on the headboard, her nipples so close he could almost taste them, her breath warm near his lips. And then for just an instant, pain flickered over her features, and she turned her head, discreetly shifting her knee before turning back to him. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
The pain, her pain, did him in, and he acted on pure instinct. Sam wrapped his arms around her and slid his hand up her back to her neck. “Meagan,” he whispered, the feel of her in his arms removing any reserve he’d pretended to have. “I’ll let you tie me up. I’ll let you do anything to me. But not if you’re trying to hide from me. Not if you’re using it to hide from what’s real. And that’s us. Us, Meagan. We’re real.”
“I’m not hiding,” she rasped.
“Yes, you are. You are and we both know it. What happened to telling me your story?” He leaned back and looked at her. “Or creating one together?”
“Sam,” she whispered, relaxing into him. “I’ve just dealt with this alone for so long. It’s attached to a lot of pain.”
He slid his hand down her arm. “That I’ll share with you if you let me.”
She shifted slightly, and he felt the tension ripple through her body. Sam rolled her over beneath him, settling between her legs, elbows resting beside her head. “You’re in no shape to be on top or to tie me up tonight. I expect a full dominatrix routine when you’re okay—including leather.” His voice softened. “Sometimes you have to let someone else carry some of the burden.”
She reached up and trailed her fingers along his jaw. “I’m afraid I’ll forget how to be without you.”
“I’ve already forgotten how to be without you.”
Her eyes teared up. “Sam.”
He kissed his name from her lips, a slow sensual kiss that deepened slowly, before becoming something far more passionate, far more wild and emotional. They clung together, tongue against tongue, body against body.
Sam slid inside her, and he felt her fear disappear, felt it fade with every touch, every kiss. He buried himself deep within her, felt the warm wet heat of her body consume him, just as she had him in every possible way. He loved this woman, he loved her with all that he was.
A slow, sweet rhythm formed. Neither of them wanted it to end, but neither could resist the build up of sensation that was leading them into a frenzy of thrusts. Their need beckoned them to get closer and closer, yet they never seemed close enough. To touch each other everywhere, yet they were never touching enough. Until finally, finally they couldn’t take anymore. She held tight to him, tensing with release, her body contracting around his cock, demanding his satisfaction as she had his heart.
When they stilled, sated and relaxed, he pulled her against him, and didn’t speak, finding he was holding his breath, afraid she would withdraw.
Long seconds ticked by and then she said, “I was at Juilliard. The teacher I told you about helped me get in.”
Sam kept silent, afraid he’d ruin her confidence their intimacy had brought her.
“I was one of the few students to get a full scholarship, which I needed since my parents disapproved. One day during practice, I was doing a lift with another dancer, and we fell. He tripped and I tumbled and...well, my knee went in the wrong direction. I tried to recover and return to school, but I just couldn’t compete at that level. So I transferred home, and gave it a whirl at the University of Texas, still dancing, still struggling with the injury. But they had a film school there, and I gravitated in that direction and ended up in news, like I told you.” She laughed, but not with humor. “My parents, at least, found that choice acceptable, if far from perfect.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It still is,” she said. “Every time I tell myself it can’t hurt me anymore, it does.”
“But you never stopped loving dance,” he stated. “That’s true passion, if I’ve ever seen it.”
She leaned up on one elbow. “No. I never stopped loving dance which was why in Texas, it was painful to be around it and not be able to truly live it. I needed to step away from it, but nothing else interested me.”
“Until that recruiter came to your school.”
“It took a while,” she said, “but I needed to get excited about something to keep pushing forward. And truthfully, the connections I made there allowed this show to happen. I thought I was beyond the emotions of my own failed career enough to pursue this without it affecting me, but tonight with Carrie—that tore me up. I don’t know if I can come back to the show next season if I’m this close to it.”
They analyzed her options, where she thought she might go. They talked. And talked. One thing kept bugging Sam, and he had to have an answer. “Why didn’t you tell me about your knee before now?” he a
sked. “You knew about my leg.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” she said. “You were hurt while fighting to save people’s lives. I was hurt in a pair of ballerina slippers. Who am I to complain? You’re a hero, Sam. You might not still be in the army, but I’m proud that you were, and that your family is.”
If Sam wasn’t already in love with her, it would have happened right then. His heart softened and he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. They made love then, no hang-ups, no barriers. And Sam had no doubt that when she curled by his side and fell asleep, her walls were still down, and he intended to keep it that way. And no one, most especially Kiki, was going to take her dream from her. He would make sure of it.
* * *
SAM WOKE TO THE BEEP of a text arriving on his cell, The message was from Sabrina. Tapes that he’d gotten from an ex-studio had been given to Kiki’s uncle, the network executive. The content of the tapes, which included everything from bribery to seduction, were impossible to dismiss as misunderstandings. Sam had the thumbs-up to escort Kiki off the property.
He kissed Meagan, who was so dead to the world, she didn’t even move when he got up. He’d wake her with the news that she no longer had to be worried about, at least, one problem. He quickly showered and left her a note saying that he had security detail. And then Sam went to track down Kiki.
Sam knocked on the door of the mother-in-law property, and then knocked again louder. Eventually, Kiki, dressed to the hilt with model-perfect makeup, yanked open the door. Sam should have thought her sexy as hell, but there was nothing about this woman even remotely appealing to him.
Sam stepped forward, crowding her. “We need to talk. Alone.”
She rolled her eyes. “Can’t this wait?”
“No,” he said, leaving the screen door open and following her to the kitchen. On the counter he dropped the file he’d been carrying. “Open it.”
She frowned and seemed increasingly uncomfortable. After a pregnant minute of silence as she scanned the photos and documents, which held a history of her becoming a snitch for the studio.
“So. There’s nothing wrong with what I do. I help separate the losers from the winners. Of course I should get paid for it.”
“You mean you sabotage programs to avoid actually having to work, while still collecting the bonus your uncle offers you.”
“That’s insane,” Kiki said. “That’s enough. You can’t prove anything of the sort. I’m completely innocent.” She started to turn. “I’m going to call my uncle.”
“He knows everything,” Sam said. “There are tapes, we made a transcript. The content makes it clear that you manufacture problems to destroy people, and get paid anyway. And if that’s not enough for you, I managed to catch you on tape myself. One particular call really caught my attention. You were telling your friend Jenna about how you’d decided to stay on with this show and get rid of Meagan. You’d be amazed at the places I have audio hooked up.” He motioned to the room. “Like right here in your favorite place to chat on the phone when Meagan’s gone. And yes—it’s legally recorded. You agreed to it in your contract for the show.”
She burst into tears and before Sam knew her intention, she’d flung her arms around him. “Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything. My uncle will disown me. He’s my only family, he’s—”
Sam tried to pry her off him. The woman must think he was a fool, that he hadn’t fully investigated her. “You have three brothers, a sister and a living mother and father.”
That’s when he heard the footsteps on the porch, a trip, and a soft murmur of pain. Meagan. Meagan was on the porch and Kiki was plastered all over him.
* * *
MEAGAN CRINGED AT THE weakness in her knee and forced herself up the last of the porch stairs, seeking a shower and clean clothes, wondering at the screen door.
She hated so much that she’d missed Sam this morning. She’d heard him leave, and had scrambled for clothes, but couldn’t catch him before as he drove away. Somehow the idea of seeing him after the intense experience of the night before, made her feel a little shy and nervous. She was never shy and nervous.
Voices sounded in the house just as she was about to push open the door. Kiki and— Meagan frowned. “Sam?”
Ridiculous butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the prospect of seeing him yet she desperately wanted to reaffirm how right last night had been, how right they were. Her steps quickened, and she froze; in fact, she was pretty sure her heart completely stopped beating. Kiki was pressed against Sam, intimately, and...
Shock came hard and fast, with the force of a concrete block. Meagan gasped and rushed away, instinct sending her into flight. She couldn’t catch her breath.
She stumbled down the stairs and almost fell, but she pushed past it, righted herself and hit the beach at a limping run—forgetting her car, forgetting anything but the fastest escape. Air came in salty gulps, as she bit back a sob.
Sam’s shouts followed almost instantly. “Meagan! Meagan!”
She heard him, she did, but she wanted distance, she wanted freedom. She wanted to get away. Had to get away. She ran toward the water. She had no idea why.
Suddenly, his hand gripped her arm, and he turned her toward him.
“Go away, Sam.”
“Meagan.” His chest rose and fell from his fast sprint. “Sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that. I told you not to call me that.”
“I know you don’t mean that, any more than you think I want that woman. You know I don’t.”
She searched his face, but didn’t have to look too hard. She knew there would be sincerity in his eyes, knew it in her heart. She even knew she was being silly and irrational. “I do. I do. I just...” The ache inside her wouldn’t ease. This man could so easily tear her heart to shreds. How did she say that and not put herself even more at his mercy? “It’s just...” She jerked away from him and stumbled backwards, her feet, shoes and all, sloshing into the water.
He followed her right into the water, boots plunging into the ocean.
“Sam, back off. Just back off. Give me time to process what I’m feeling.”
He stepped closer, but she took off running.
But Sam had her arm again, forcing her to face him. “I’m not letting this go. I’m not letting you go.”
“You have to!” she yelled, jerking away from him and stumbling backwards again. She tumbled, arms flaying as she reached for Sam and he reached for her, but it was too late. She landed on her butt, with water splashing all around her, her hair totally drenched. She glared up at Sam. “You didn’t have to choose that moment to listen to me.”
“I wasn’t trying to.” He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. She tugged him forward, intending to stand and throw him into the water but she wasn’t fast enough. He fell into the water and on top of her.
His hands braced the sand at her sides. “I’m not letting you go. Last night—”
She shoved at him. “People are watching. You’re going to get me in trouble. I can’t focus like this. I can’t focus on the show and the ratings and—”
“Because of me.”
She couldn’t say yes. She tried. On some basic level, she knew he would walk away if she pushed hard enough. So why wasn’t she pushing?
“You know, Meagan,” he said, “I thought I could get you to open up to me. I thought after last night you had. Clearly, I was wrong. You’re looking for a reason to get away from me.” He shoved off of her, left her in the water, which spoke volumes to Meagan. He wasn’t helping her get up. He was showing her that she was on her own now from here on out.
He stood, looking down at her, ocean slashing around his feet, around her face. “Chase your dreams, Meg. Kiki is gone, as in terminated. That’s why I left you last night, to meet with Sabrina, and compile the evidence for executive approval. Kiki wanted your job and was plotting to get you fired. And I’ll stop distracting you. I’ll ask to be removed from the show.” He
turned away and headed down the beach.
Kiki was gone—but that barely registered. Sam was leaving, Sam was all but gone already. “Sam! Sam, please.” She struggled to get up and damn, her knee buckled. “Sam!” Desperation rose inside her. And she knew then and there that losing Sam was far more frightening than was the fear of being hurt. She already hurt. She hurt because he was leaving, she hurt just thinking about never touching him again, never just being with him again. She couldn’t let him go. “Sam.” She swallowed hard, and then with resolve firmly in place, shouted, “Sam! I love you. I love you. Please don’t walk away.”
She couldn’t go after Sam and she couldn’t watch him go. She let her chin drop to her chest, staring at the water splashing around her.
But then, he was there, in the water, on his knees, too, his hands framing her face. “I love you too, sweetheart. I thought I should wait to tell you until you were ready to hear the words, until I bought you a ring and...until I thought you’d agree to marry me.”
Slowly, he got to his feet and brought her up with him. He kissed her. Ahh, how he kissed her, salty and sweet, and wicked and wonderful. And when they finally stopped, and trudged through the water, his arm around her to help her walk, there was an audience, a group of cast and crew, to watch them. Neither Meagan nor Sam cared.
Sam stopped and stared into her eyes. “So? Will you marry me, Meagan Tippan?”
“Do I get to tie you up and have my way with you, if I do?”
“Only if you promise to wear leather.”
“Then, yes!” she said. “I’ll marry you, Samuel Kellar.”
He picked her up and carried her toward the house, carrying her because he knew she was injured. And Meagan knew, she was never going to walk alone again.
Epilogue
WEEKS LATER, CENTER STAGE, Derek waited with the last two contestants—Tabitha of all people, and ironically, Jensen. The final show had arrived on the announcement that there would be a second season. They were on a ratings high, even with the curse being weaned slowly into the background. A strategy Meagan had proposed to Sabrina to ensure the ratings would hold for the next season and it had paid off.