***Sam's POV****
I woke up with a searing, banging headache.
Grunting, I reached for the telecom on the nightstand and pressed a button.
"Coffee," I said hoarsely.
"Yes, sir," came the response from the other end.
Kicking off the covers, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rose. The street night light cut through the room as I pulled the curtain wide open. I stood there, completely bare, still feeling the effects of what happened between Grace and I, few hours before.
My driver had dropped her off not long after.
"Fake," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head as I turned toward the bathroom. What I needed now was a long, cold shower and a hot, well-brewed cup of coffee.
"Your coffee, sir," the maid said softly, setting it down on the small table beside the couch I'd settled into. Just as she was turning to leave, I stopped her.
"Sarah?" I asked.
"She's been in her room all day, sir," she replied politely.
"And the vase she asked for?"
"It was delivered, sir."
I gave a simple wave to dismiss her, then turned my attention to the magazine lying next to me on the couch. But my mind wasn't in it.
We were supposed to go out today.
What had she been doing all day? Was she still upset?
Curiosity edged into my chest like a growing pressure. I shut the magazine and rose to my feet. I needed to check on her, even if just for a moment.
I walked down the hall and stopped at her door. My hand hovered over the knob before gripping and turning it gently.
The door creaked open.
My heart skipped.
Was she gone?
My eyes scanned the room, frantic for a second. Then I saw her.
She was curled up in bed, still in that same nightie. Her arms hugged her pillow tightly, her face soft in sleep. Quietly, I shut the door behind me and walked over, sitting on the bed beside her.
I leaned down and gently tucked her hair behind her ear.
And there it was—a single tear slipping from her closed eyes.
My chest tightened.
Without thinking, I laid beside her, wrapping my arm around her waist. I pulled her close and began stroking her hair, gently, with care. "I'm sorry," I whispered against her shoulder. "Really sorry."
She was still sound asleep, breathing softly, unaware of the war going on inside me.
Now resting on one elbow, I stared at her face. Her skin glowed in the dim light, her lips slightly parted. I'd been with countless beautiful women—but none of them made me feel like this. None of them lingered in my mind the way she did.
My fingers grazed her cheek, memorizing the softness.
And then—she stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked up at me in surprise.
"Sam?" she murmured, voice small and unsure.
I met her gaze. "I didn't want to leave without seeing you," I said gently.
She tried to sit up, but I placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "I just wanted to apologize," I added. "For earlier. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that… or touched you like that. I was angry. But not at you. I was jealous."
Her eyes searched mine.
"I'm not proud of how I act when I feel that way. But I need you to know I don't want anyone else seeing you the way I do. It's not just about control anymore, Sarah. It's more than that."
Her lips parted to say something, but I silenced her with a kiss.
It was slow. Soft. A whisper of a kiss at first, as though asking permission.
She didn't pull away.
My hand cupped her jaw as our mouths moved together, warmth blooming between us. I deepened the kiss, tasting her, savoring her. She melted into me, her body surrendering in quiet gasps and trembling breaths.
Her hand gripped the front of my shirt.
I gently slid her onto her back, hovering above her. My lips explored her neck, her collarbone, every inch of skin I could reach. I took my time. This wasn't about conquest—it was about feeling her. Knowing her.
My fingers slipped under the strap of her nightie, easing it down her shoulder, then the other.
Slowly, I pulled the nightie down until it pooled at her waist.
She was stunning. Vulnerable. Real.
My mouth found her breast, lips closing over her nipple, tongue flicking lightly. Her breath hitched as she arched into me. I switched to the other, lavishing her with the same care, her hands buried in my hair, gasping softly.
I trailed kisses down her stomach, parting her thighs gently.
She was shaking.
"You okay?" I whispered.
She nodded, lips trembling. "Yes."
I dipped lower, kissing the inside of her thighs until I reached her soft center. I took my time, using my tongue to explore her carefully, tenderly.
I tasted her slowly, learning every response.
When I found that sensitive spot, her hips bucked, a cry escaping her lips.
She'd never been touched like this before—her body was innocent, untouched, and now it trembled beneath my mouth.
She clutched the sheets, her legs trembling as the pleasure built.
"Sam," she whimpered. Her voice cracked, overwhelmed.
"I've got you," I murmured between kisses.
And then it happened—her body arched, a sharp gasp tore from her throat, and she came undone against me. Her breathing was ragged, her thighs tight around me.
I kissed my way back up to her, brushing her hair from her face.
"You're so beautiful," I whispered. "So, so beautiful."
I kissed her lips as I positioned myself between her legs.
She was ready—but still untouched.
"I'll go slow," I promised, my forehead resting against hers.
She nodded, nervous but trusting.
I guided myself to her entrance and pushed gently.
She tensed.
I paused, kissing her forehead, whispering words to calm her. "It's okay… you're doing so good. Just breathe."
I reached up, gently rolling her nipple in a throbbing puff, helping her relax. Slowly, I pressed deeper, inch by inch, until I was buried fully inside her.
She gasped, eyes wide, her fingers digging into my arms.
"Sarah," I breathed, "you feel like heaven."
I stilled, letting her adjust, then began to move—slow and deep.
She clung to me, gasping with every thrust, her body growing used to me, her moans growing louder.
She was so tight, so warm, it took everything in me to pace myself.
"You're perfect," I groaned, "so damn perfect."
I kissed her, thrusting deeper, harder, finding a rhythm that matched her breathing. She wrapped her legs around me, holding me tighter, her nails scratching down my back.
Her body trembled again beneath me, another wave building inside her.
"I can't…" she cried out, barely able to speak.
"Let go," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
And she did.
Her body convulsed beneath me, her moan turning into a gasp as she surrendered fully. The sound, the feeling—it pulled me over the edge.
I buried myself deep and released with a deep, ragged groan.
We collapsed into each other, bodies tangled, breath shallow.
No words. Just warmth. Just us.
Wrapped in each other's arms, and slowly we drifted into sleep.