Page 45 of Little Ballerina

Now.

She couldn’t stay in bed with him a moment longer. She hadn’t even wanted to stay in bed with him at all, but after they'd finished making love for the third time, Sam had stretched out beside her and pulled her up against him. Still giddy, she hadn’t protested, just lay there and let him hold her in his arms.

That had also been a bad idea.

She had liked it too much, felttoosafe,tooprotected, which just made this harder. She had hoped that at least she might get some proper rest and that Sam’s presence might lull her to sleep. It hadn’t, but she was glad that Sam was sleeping peacefully, he really needed the rest.

As carefully as she could, she slipped out from under his arm, which was draped heavily across her stomach. She climbed out of bed, spreading the covers back over Sam, then tiptoed toward the dresser. She’d throw on some clothes, try to grab a couple of hours of sleep in one of the other bedrooms, then call one of their colleagues to come and pick her up. Not Nick though because Nick would tell Aggie, and she really wanted to go someplace where no one knew where she was. That way the people she loved might stay safe.

All of a sudden, the dark room flooded with light. Her eyes darted closed in protest, and she cracked them open and squinted at the bed where Sam was sitting up.

“Where are you going?”

Unable to think up a lie quickly enough she just stood there.

“You're leaving.” Sam sounded hurt and she hated that. Hated that she had caused him pain. Hated that she was going to cause him even more pain.

In an attempt to keep up a front so she didn’t break down in front of him, she jutted out her chin and glared at him. “So what?” she challenged. “You got what you wanted, we had sex. So what does it matter where I go now.”

Almost before she could blink, Sam was out of bed and shoving her up against the wall. One of his hands pressed against her stomach holding her in place. Before she’d been hurt last year, she’d had a pretty decent six-pack, but now her stomach was flat and looked too thin against Sam’s large hand. He had a leg on either side of hers, and his hips pushed close against her, caging her in and keeping her pinned against the wall. Although he was a good nine inches taller than her five-foot-five frame, he had his head dipped so his mouth was mere millimeters from her forehead. He was still naked as was she, and the sight of his body wasn't just arousing it also stirred up so many emotions in her. He was so big, strong, and secure that she just wanted to melt against his rock-hard chest and let him hold her up, let him take care of her, even for just a moment.

“That wasn't just sex for me.” His voice was vibrating with controlled anger. “And I know it wasn't for you either.” He curled a hand around the back of her neck and took her mouth so gently it brought tears to her eyes. After he’d kissed her, he released her and took a step back. “What’s going on, Naomi?”

“It’s nothing,” she replied but couldn’t meet his eye. She didn’t like lying, especially to someone she cared about so deeply.

“I'm not good at talking feelings,” he stated abruptly.

Thank goodness, she muttered to herself, that fact would save her from having an extremely uncomfortable conversation. “Good,” she shot for nonchalance, “you don’t want to talk about it and neither do I. Now, I'm going to go take a shower.” She attempted to brush past him, but he blocked her path.

“Not so fast. Discussing feelings might make me uncomfortable, but you’re obviously hurting.”

Darn him. Why was he suddenly so observant of her feelings? “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, still trying to get past him. She needed to get out of this room before he actually managed to get her talking.

“You're upset.”

“I’ll get over it.” She always did, she just lost a little piece of herself each time.

“I don’t think so.”

Closing her eyes, she sank back against the wall, letting it take her weight. “Sam, please,” she begged. Why couldn’t he just let it go?

Instead of answering, he just gathered her up into his arms, pulled a blanket from the bed, wrapped it around her, and carried her from the room. He headed further down the hall to his room, kicked open the door, flipped on the light, and then settled himself in a huge, overstuffed rocker with her on his lap. “This used to be my grandmother’s,” he said. “I used to love to sit in it when we visited her. She died a couple of months after Anthony was born.”

Pain choked her. “I'm sorry, Sam.”

“I thought I told you to stop apologizing,” he reminded her mildly. “And stop fighting me, I'm not letting you go.”

Naomi needed space. Physical space so she could put some emotional distance between them. Somehow Sam was managing to wiggle his way through all her defenses.

“Why were you leaving, Naomi? Did you regret what happened?”

She felt his entire body tense as he asked the question. “No,” she answered truthfully, and felt him relax.

“Then why? I don’t understand.”

Giving up, she stopped trying to squirm free of Sam’s hold and instead just rested heavily against him, nestling her head in the crook of his neck and closing her eyes. “I've never spent the night with anyone,” she admitted.

“Never had sex with anyone?” Sam sounded surprised. “Because you didn’t seem like a novice in bed.”