Goddess Rising (46 page)

The pain was instantly sharp and biting, and she winced—her lip caught between her teeth as she turned her head away, pressing her face against the pillow. A hiss of breath released from her teeth, and Wes glanced down at her in confusion.

“Sammy?” he asked, holding completely still, shock registering as realization dawned. “Jesus, Sammy—am I
hurting
you?”

His face was right over hers, eyes wide with worry. Wes stroked the hair back from her face as she looked at him, paralyzed somewhere between pain and pleasure.

“I wanted you to be my first,” she whispered, gripping his back.

Wes’s face softened. He leaned down and kissed her gently, still wedged tightly against the wet constriction of her body.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured, rubbing her nose with his.

“Don’t say anything,” she whispered back. “Just give me a moment to get used to you.”

Sam felt her body yielding around him in slow, inexorable degrees, the burning lessening as he kept kissing her, whispering how much he cared for her, how good he wanted to make it, how amazing he would make her feel. Sam found herself relaxing into the pleasure, tilting her hips tentatively as he moved forward once more at her urging. She gasped as she felt the low and heavy penetration, each movement taking him deeper, his body sliding over hers as the push and pull translated from sharp and aching to pure and unadulterated sensation.

Wes took his time, moving over her with tender deliberation, watching her every expression, tasting her groans and reveling in every passionate response. She felt helpless against his onslaught, paced and timed to madden and tantalize as she twined her legs around his back, holding him closer, urging him faster, harder—needing more of him—
more—more—just more—

Wes dropped his head beside her, driving into her deeply, burying himself inside her again and again until he found his release, his teeth at her shoulder as he gasped out her name. But he wasn’t finished with her, not by a long shot. He seemed to understand she was trapped at the precipice—her orgasm just out her reach, her body suspended between the dull ache and hot throb.

He dipped his thumb in her mouth, surprising her.

“I want you more than anything, Sammy. I want you to be happy more than anything,” he whispered, withdrawing the rough pad of his wetted thumb and drawing it down her body. He touched her gently, his circles fast and light as he bent to suck her nipple, drawing strongly, the timing ridiculously perfect—so utterly and overwhelmingly wonderful, she couldn’t help the sounds coming out of her.

Wes rocked against her in gentle pulses, short and slippery sweet, his pelvis catching and tantalizing some perfect spot, his fingers and mouth working in maddening unison.

“I can’t—”

“You
can
,” he whispered. “With me, you always will,” he promised as he watched her, nudging into her constriction, finding that marvelous friction that triggered a whole new set of silky spasms.

“Wes—” Sam clutched his shoulders, the pleasure rising up like a tide—surprising her.

“Let go, Sammy. Just let go—”

And so she did, squeezing her eyes closed as she was carried into the undertow, breathless and lost to everything except sensation and bliss, Wes’s arms tight around her.

Afterward, Samantha lay quiet in his arms, their limbs tangled, her body all at once sore and tender—replete and heavy with satisfaction. Wes stroked her body, his fingers light as they traced and touched, here and there.

“I’ve never been anybody’s first before,” he admitted in the cool, quiet darkness of her room.

Sam smiled against his shoulder, fingers trailing up his stomach. “I think you may be my first for a few things, Wesley Elliott.”

She felt him drop a kiss against her hair. “I think you may be my first for a few things too, Sammy.” Wes squeezed her gently. “I think I knew it the moment I took that picture.”

*

September—Friday Night

The Cowboy Club, Bryan, Texas

W E S L E Y

Wes watched, mesmerized,
as Sam leaned over the pool table and executed a side-corner bank shot with just enough spin to nail two striped balls into the pocket.

Sam straightened just in time to catch Rita’s high-five. “Damn,
jaina
—you’re showing these boys how it’s done!” Rita crowed.

Yes, she was. And looking fine while she did it too in her tight jeans and black tank top.

“You gonna stare all night or are you gonna play?” Chris teased, nudging Wes. “We’re getting our asses kicked because you can’t keep your eyes off Sam long enough to aim properly.”

Wes grinned and shrugged, stepping up to the pool table. Truth was, he was a more-than-decent player. Just not with Sam around, looking good enough to eat. He stared hard at the cue ball, strategizing the shot. Wes pulled his elbow back to nail it, and just as he did, Sam lined up in front of him across the table and leaned forward, giving him a prime view right down her tank top at the black lacy bra he’d been getting glimpses of all night.

He missed the shot by a mile.

Chris threw up his arms in exasperation as Rita held out her hand. “Twenty bucks, right here,” she said, pointing at her palm. “You’re gettin’ schooled tonight, son.”

“You owe me money, you stupid sonofabitch,” Chris grumbled to Wes as he yanked out his wallet and slapped a twenty into Rita’s hand.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who challenged the girls to a game in the first place,” Wes answered, holding up his hands. “I know better than to stick my hand in the cage.”

“All right, you and me, Rita—double or nothing,” Chris bargained, ignoring Wes. “I can’t have him on my team anymore—he’s a liability whenever Sam’s around.”

“You’re on.” Rita laughed before handing the twenty to Wes. “Why don’t you put yourself to some good use and get us another round of beers.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wes held his arm out to Sam. “Care to keep your shitty-pool-playing boyfriend company?”

Boyfriend? Did he seriously just say that?

It was out there before he could stop to think about it. Wes held his breath and his smile as Rita and Chris swiveled around, mouths open. It was common knowledge that Wes didn’t do relationships. And while he’d had several longer-term hook-ups and multiple-night-stands, truth was,
girlfriend
wasn’t a word he would have used for any of the girls he’d spent any kind of time with in the past. So Sam was kind of his “first” too in a way. And Wes was privately pleased about that.

Sam stepped toward him, a grin on her face as she looped her arm through his. “You’re only playing like shit because I
was
cheating,” she admitted with a wink, not mentioning the
boyfriend
slip.

Wes exhaled the breath slowly, relieved she hadn’t made a big thing of it, then immediately wondering why he kind of wanted her to.

Because she’s yours, and like a damn Neanderthal, you want everyone to know it.

Wes ordered a round of beers from the jammed bar, finding the only stool available and setting Sam on it. He crowded her space, his hands on the bar beside her as he leaned in for a kiss while they waited on their drinks. Wes had been kissing her for days now, and it just wasn’t ever enough. Her warm and piquant taste, her jasmine scent, and the sexy hitch in her voice when she said his name: It all drove him wild. He’d lost hours to daydreaming about her when they weren’t together, and even when he was with her, Wes felt like he’d never be able to get his fill.

Sam pulled back as the bartender interrupted their kiss with a loud
ahem
, and Wes tossed the bill on the bar. “Keep the change.”

“Seems to me they oughtta be paying you guys for that show,” the bartender replied, nodding at the tongues wagging on the bar. Several people even clapped and cheered.

“Young love,” Wes excused with a little bow. “You’d be acting a fool too if you had a girl as hot as mine.”

Sam slapped his shoulder, though she was grinning as she picked up two of the beer steins. “Speaking of fools, let’s watch Chris lose his ass to Rita.”

“So you two are cool again?” he asked, gathering the last two drinks.

“Yeah,” Sammy nodded as they made their way back to the table. “She’s only able to stay pissed with me for about forty-eight hours. That’s the longest she’s able to manage without breaking down.”

“And what about De Soto?” Wes asked. He’d seen the fading bruises on her stomach the morning after he’d made love to her—had freaked out in fact, thinking he’d been the one to do that to her somehow. Now he just wanted to find a deniable way to maim the bastard who’d laid a hand on his girl.

“Alejandro and I are as good as we can be, I guess,” Sam said, distracting him from his thoughts. “We’re not scheduled to do any paired exercises until after the Challenge.” She rolled her eyes. “I can hardly wait.”

“You know what they’ll be?” he asked, curious.

“Not yet,” she replied with a short shake of her head. “If we’re lucky, we find out the night before. Sometimes the upperclassmen get some inside info, but knowing how competitive Alejandro is, he’s not going to let either of us risk losing if he can get some kind of advantage.”

“Win at all costs?”

“Something like that.”

They got back just in time to watch Rita cream Chris with a sidestroke that had just enough English to nail the ball into the pocket from the other end of the table.

“Mother of God!” Chris groaned, pretending to slam his head into his cue.

Rita propped her ass on the pool table as she swung her legs, lean and brown from running outside every morning. She lifted her hand, palm up, her smile triumphant. “Money, honey.”

Chris yanked out his wallet and slapped another forty bucks into her hand. “You’re a damn hustler.”

“And you’re a sore loser,” she replied with a haughty little smile, pocketing the cash. “Sucker.”

“Here—console yourself with this,” Wes told Chris, handing him the beer.

“Got a game tomorrow,” Chris replied weakly, eyeing the frost on the glass with something akin to lust.

“Yeah, yeah, just shut up and drink it. It’s your one tonight, so I think you’ll live to die another day.” Wes shoved the glass in his hand, watching as Chris downed it like a man on fire.

Sam and Rita clinked glasses. “To your continued winning streak,” Sam toasted.

“Oh, we’re bringing home that trophy,” Rita assured her. “Maybe
I’ll
be the first woman in the Rangers,” she added with a saucy little wink.

“Maybe you will be,” Sam agreed. “And if you are, you’ll have no bigger fan than me.”

Wes gazed down at her in surprise. He knew Sam and Rita were tight, but he’d figured there was no way she’d lay down the gauntlet on a goal like that one.

“It’s good to hang out with you, man,” Chris said, tossing a lazy arm around Wes’s shoulders.

“You too,” Wes nodded. He’d been at Sam’s practically all week, when he wasn’t at class or working.

“She looks happy,” Chris commented, nodding toward Sam.

Wes watched her laughing with Rita, pushing her dark hair over her shoulder. “She’s amazing.”

“Yeah, she is,” Chris replied, finishing his beer.

Wes glanced at him. “We’re still cool, right?”

“Yeah,” Chris nodded, handing the empty glass to a passing waiter. “I wish I was the guy that lights her up like that, but—” he shrugged, as if to say
c’est la vie
. “It’s you, man. She loves you.”

Wes glanced at him in surprise. “She loves me?”

He knew Sam and Chris were friends, knew they talked and hung out when they studied. But had she told him she
loved
Wes?

“Lord, you’re dumb,” Chris marveled with the shake of his head. “Even the chickens under the porch know that girl’s gone over you.”

Wes’s eyes tracked back to Samantha. She caught his gaze at just the right moment, her lips curving in that slow, secret Mona Lisa smile of hers.

I am so in love with this girl.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Wes confided quietly.

“Don’t I know it?” Chris replied, squeezing his shoulder. “Just don’t fuck it up.”

Easier said…
Wes thought back to his conversation with Miranda in the car. He knew why he’d picked Sammy. He just had no idea why the hell she’d agreed to it in the first place. Then he thought about his deal with her father. His mood darkened.
If she ever found out…

Sam and Rita started a fresh game, their banter friendly but their game obviously competitive. Rita was dressed like a typical college girl—tight shirt, tight skirt, and plenty of skin in between. Sam was dressed in her usual jeans and tank top, sexy but not overt. As she tossed her hair back to lean over the table, the light caught the glint of the diamonds in her ears, the chrome of her fancy Swiss watch. She looked casual and elegant and
rich
. Not like the girl of a guy who took photographs, bartending and making fake IDs on the side.

“Why’s she with a guy like me?” Wes wondered aloud.

“World’s biggest mystery,” Chris teased, slapping him on the back.

“I’m serious.” Wes shook his head. “I’m the first guy she’s ever been with, Chris,” he told him quietly. “Why me?”