Her cheeks colored a gorgeous shade of pink.
“Can you imagine how scared I was when Carl found those files in your luggage, and I thought our meeting wasn’t a coincidence? That you’d been playing me? That you didn’t want me, but my money? I’d just started feeling something again, and just then, I thought you’d been …” It was painful to talk about it even now. “Please forgive me. I should have talked to you immediately and asked you about the files. I could have spared us this.”
Delilah put her finger onto his lips. “Shh.” How could she continue to be mad at him when he’d opened up to her like that? What man would admit that he’d had erection problems, especially to a woman he wanted to get into bed? This couldn’t be some cheap trick. She looked into his eyes, searching for a sign that she was mistaken, that he couldn’t be trusted, but there was none. Nobody would stoop this low to get what he wanted, would he? No. His voice, his face, everything felt and sounded honest, open. He’d told her everything.
But there was still another question. She didn’t want to ask it, but she had to. She owed it to herself. At least then she’d know where she stood.
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Does this mean that you just want sex? I mean, it’s ok,” she added hastily. She didn’t want to sound like a prude or too needy. “If that’s all you want. I can understand, given the circumstances. I mean, what man wouldn’t want to catch up, right? Nine months is a long time for a man. And we’re both consenting adults. I mean, this is just a fling. Anyway, I don’t even live here, I have to go back to New York …” She was babbling. She knew there was no future in this. At least she knew now that the reason he wanted her was because he was starved for sex. Fair enough. They were adults. She could deal with it, couldn’t she? Couldn’t she?
Samson’s hand went to her face, his thumb stroking her jaw. His gaze moved from her trembling lips to her eyes. She shivered, but she wasn’t cold.
“I want more.”
“More sex?” Her voice shaky, she avoided his gaze.
“More of everything. More of you, not just sex. This isn’t about sex anymore. And I’ll prove it to you. Tonight—”
“It’s already day.”
“Today, all I want is having you sleep in my arms. No sex: I just want to be close to you. You don’t even have to be naked. In fact, it’s probably better if you’re not. I don’t expect you to forgive me immediately; I know you’re still mad at me, but I need to have you close. I need to feel you breathe beside me, I need your warmth. Please.”
As much as Samson hungered for her body and to be inside of her, he owed her this much. He needed to prove to her that he didn’t just want her for sexual gratification, that he respected her decisions. If he could hold off his sexual urges for the day to prove to her that he needed her for something other than sex, he had a chance at making her his for good. It was worth the sacrifice. She was worth the sacrifice.
“You want me just here with you? You won’t kiss me?”
He looked at her lips, slightly parted and moist. Of course he wanted to kiss her, but how could he stop after that? He pulled Delilah into his arms and pressed her head against his chest, smoothing his palm over her hair. “I promised you when you came in here tonight that I wouldn’t touch you. I’m gonna stick to it.”
“You’re touching me now.”
“You know what I meant, so don’t split hairs with me.” He chuckled softly, knowing that if she teased him, she couldn’t be quite as mad anymore.
Samson let her change in the bathroom while he stripped down to his boxers in the bedroom. He used the spare bathroom down the hall to get ready for bed, figuring as a woman she’d be in his on-suite bathroom for longer than he cared to stay up. The sun had come up already, and he needed to get some sleep. He felt his body tiring fast and his energy draining quickly.
He lay down in bed, pulling the covers over him. It only took a couple of minutes until he heard the bathroom door open and saw her. If he had been tired before, suddenly all of that was wiped away. Was she planning to seduce him?
Delilah wore the sexiest baby-doll nightdress he’d ever seen—the only one he’d ever seen—the fabric of which was far too thin to leave anything to the imagination. Not that he had to imagine anything in the first place. He had a mental photograph of every inch of her body safely locked away in his memory bank.
She slipped underneath the covers and right into his arms, molding her pliable body to his. Samson was sure she noticed the hungry look with which he devoured her. He hoped that sleep would claim him soon so he could keep his promise, but knew instinctively that it wouldn’t come fast enough.