Her lips pursed, forming a pout. “I wasn’t sorry then. I had to know if it was him. But the moment the doors closed and I was safe, I realized just how much I’d almost lost. The experience scared me, and I thought I might die. Or that I might be trapped in the past and unable to see you for decades. I imagined myself skulking around playgrounds like a perv to watch you as you grew older.” She swallowed hard. “Waiting until you knew me before approaching you to say just how deeply sorry I was.”

Sam studied her face, the paleness of her skin, the moisture glinting in her eyes, and had no doubt everything she said was true. She was deeply sorry. Afraid—after the fact. But her apology wasn’t good enough. “You risked everything, risked us, so you could have your answers. We were partners in this, but you never read me in about your suspicions.”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“Not the point,” he said, anger causing his voice to rise and vibrate. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t get to decide what I need to know or when?”

Her eyebrows drew into a frown, and she turned away. “What do I have to do?”

“That is the point. It’s not something you can do.” His chest tightened. “Not something you’re willing to consider.”

“I won’t know unless you tell me.”

His fingers ached where he gripped his arms. “I shouldn’t have to. You should come to me, without any double-think, to run things by me. It should be instinctive. It is for me. You don’t consider me your friend, your ally. You think of me as…” He waved a hand in frustration. “I don’t know, someone you have to manipulate to get around.”

“I don’t.”

At his hot glare, her mouth closed.

“You’re so used to keeping secrets, to holding things close until you get too deep to dig yourself out alone, that you can’t imagine being a partner. For years, I followed your ass around, watching your back, cleaning up your messes. I can’t do it anymore. I quit.”

Cait’s face fell. A tear tracked down her cheek.

The urge to comfort her was strong, but if he caved now, she’d never learn. Never try to change. He’d stayed away a whole goddamn year to make her face her problem with the booze, hoping she’d choose sobriety and him.

Cait dropped to the arm of the couch, her gaze fixed on her hands, which she held together in front of her. “I don’t know how to be any other way. I don’t know how to change the way I think, or my overriding instincts.”

“I know that. But I no longer accept that just because that’s the way you’re wired, you can’t change it.”

Her tear-stained face rose. “I do love you.”

Sam blinked his eyes and glanced away. “That’s not the issue,” he said, betraying the ragged edge of his emotions in the texture of his voice.

“I quit drinking for you.”

Sam sucked in a sharp breath and nailed her with a hard glance. “Gimme a break. Breaking with booze wasn’t all for me. The moment you stepped back into the magic, you knew you had to keep a clear head.”

“But the moment the crisis was over, I didn’t go searching for a bottle to celebrate either.” Her chin jutted. “I’ve kept clean because I need you in my life more than I need a drink. I can change. I have.”

Sam considered what she said, heard the strength, the pride in her voice. The underlying plea for another chance.

With a sudden move, she pushed off the sofa arm. “You have to practice something to make it habit. I just don’t think I’ve made telling you everything, as soon as it happens, a habit. But I can change this too. I promise I can.”

Not “I’ll try,” he noted. Something he wouldn’t have accepted. His gaze remained on her, resting on the only person on the planet he’d ever have given so many chances. He wondered if he was a fool. A fool in love. But the thought of not being in her world, even if she failed at this, was unimaginable, because he’d worry every minute of every day that she’d step into another elevator with an incubus.

His breath and his anger left him in a long exhale. “You look wrecked.”

“I’m tired. Sad,” she added in a whisper.

“We should both get some sleep.”

“You’ll have to call me a taxi. Jason dropped me off.”

His gaze narrowed.

Cait winced, and then squared her shoulders. “I went back to the hotel. But I stayed clear of the conflux. I promise. The ghost crew had something they needed me to see.”

Trying not to let the anger erupt again, he shot a glance to the ceiling. The fact she’d told him without prodding was something.

“You should have been with me to watch it.”

He left unspoken an emphatic agreement. He was tired too. And sad. But mostly, he was horny. He jerked his chin toward his bedroom door. “We’re not through discussing this.”

A dark brown brow arched. Her cheeks flushed. “Guess you’ll have to figure out a way to make sure I don’t forget this lesson.”

The hot, throbbing ache that had settled in his groin at her arrival sharpened. “Sweetheart, you won’t forget. Every time you sit you’ll get a little reminder.”

Her lips twitched.

“You first.” He followed her through the bedroom door, reluctantly realizing he’d have to keep the room completely dark to hide the fact he’d never, not even for a minute, gotten over her.

15

Not for a second did Cait think she was out of the woods. Sam was still livid. But while they’d talked, his cock had stirred, filled, becoming a heavy knot against the placket of his boxers.

Oh, she’d noticed and felt a burgeoning hope. Sex would smooth away the edges. Give them a chance to connect in the one way they never failed to communicate well.

Already her body was responding to his unspoken signals, warming, melting like wax. As she preceded him into the darkened bedroom, her hips swayed, inviting him to touch.

A large hand clamped on one buttock. An arm encircled her, fingers pressing against her lower abdomen as he moved in behind her. His face nuzzled the corner of her shoulder. Then his teeth bit her lobe, tugging it before he nipped the tender skin of her neck, causing her to gasp and her knees to weaken. She sagged against him, her bottom jutting to rub against the thick, hard ridge.

He peeled away her clothes, licking and nipping at everything he bared. When she was nude, he pushed her toward the bed.

She stumbled, falling onto the mattress. His strong hands gripped her waist and shoved her toward the center. Before she could get her knees beneath her, he was on top of her. His boxers gone. His cock nudging her backside, his hands pushing apart her legs.

He entered her from behind, not the deep thrust she craved, but his rutting movements, churning cream, warmed her from the inside out. His weight sank her deep into the mattress.

Her breaths were shallow, kittenish pants.

He surrounded her with his size, his musky scent, his strength. But then he withdrew, and again, his hands were shaping her, forcing her bottom up, her chest against a soft cotton comforter.

Fingers traced the length of her slit, drawing more moisture to coat the digits before sinking into her. His mouth pressed a single kiss against her bottom. When he began to pump his thick digits inside her, she wanted to say it wasn’t enough, opened her mouth to voice her complaint, but then a swat landed on her skin—sharp, stinging.

Again, she gasped, pushed up on her arms, and aimed a glare over her shoulder.

Her eyes, having adjusted to a darkness relieved by a sliver of moonlight peeking through curtains, noted Sam kneeling behind her, his face tense. His eyes, though darkly hooded, glittered in the silvery light.

Lips quirked up on one side, he swung his free hand and gave her ass an underhanded slap that rocked her body. That one she’d feel in the morning.

He challenged her with his dark eyes, thrust his fingers deeper and swirled, his thumb coming into play to rasp over her hardening clit.