Devon Hartford - Reckless

I looked forward to finding out how much trouble Samantha could be the second I got out of whatever steaming mess I’d tripped into with the cops.

Because whatever was brewing between me and Samantha felt permanent.

Eternal.

SAMANTHA

PRESENT DAY

I still couldn’t get over how hot Christos was. His tattooed arms flexed hypnotically and his body gyrated only inches from mine.

“Oh, it’s so wet,” Christos said.

“Can you get it in all the way?” I asked nervously.

“It’s so tight. I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“Push it in all the way. Go deep.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve waited long enough. Just do it.”

“Okay, but I’ll go slow, just in case.” He eased it in. All the way.

“Oooh, yeah,” I purred, “I think that’s going to do it. Just like that. Smooth and easy.” I totally needed this. I’d been waiting for what seemed like my entire life.

“You like it when I do this, don’t you?” he smirked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I grinned back.

“I don’t know, I thought maybe you were afraid it would ruin things. You want me to go faster?”

“Yes. Do it, Christos. I trust you. As fast as you can.”

His entire body flexed in a choreographed symphony of poetic movement. “Like this?”

“Oh yes, Christos. Just like that. Harder.”

Things were so wet down there, it made a sucking sound as it went in and out, in and out.

“Here it comes!” he grunted. “It’s gonna pop!”

“Faster! Harder! Keep it in deep or it’ll gush everywhere!”

“Now!”

“Yes, that’s it! Flush it!”

I pressed the lever while Christos gave the rubber plunger a final thrust into the toilet bowl. The water swirled and gurgled. “We did it!” I squealed.

He high-fived me as my toilet bowl finally drained.

“What’ve you been throwing in that thing?” he asked skeptically. “Paper towels? It’s not a garbage disposal.”

“I don’t know, regular stuff?”

“Regular stuff doesn’t clog the pipes.”

I wiped sweat from my brow. This conversation was making me feel guilty of some sort of heinous pooping problem. I needed to steer the heat onto a likely target. “Maybe my neighbor’s pet elephant has been sneaking into my bathroom in the middle of the night and is clogging up my pipes with its elephant dumps?”

“I’ll totally buy that if you can convince me how the elephant gets past your bedroom door without you noticing.”

“It tiptoes?”

Christos lifted a doubtful eyebrow.

“Elephants are very light on their feet. It probably wears ballet slippers, which are perfect for sneaking around.”

Christos’ eyebrow ratcheted up another notch.

“Have you ever worn ballet slippers?” I demanded. “They’re ninja stealthy.”

Christos’ other eyebrow joined its twin.

“I swear! It wasn’t me! It flushed fine before I went to D.C.!”

Christos smiled broadly, finally letting me off the hook.

“Jerk!” I tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek. “Anyway, thank you for helping.”

“My pleasure.” Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, he kissed me affectionately on the cheek. “While I’m at it, do you have any toilet bowl cleaner?”

“What for?” I asked.

“May as well give the bowl a quick once-over while I’m already in here.”

I grabbed a bottle of toilet bowl cleaner from under the sink. He squirted a blue ring under the rim and went to work.

 “Christos, why is it I get all turned on when I see you scrubbing things?”

“All women have an elbow-grease fetish.” He cocked his head and flashed his now-legendary dimpled grin. “It’s a proven fact.” Christos put the bowl brush away and washed his hands. After toweling them dry, he leaned toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Now that I’ve got you all worked up…” he said suggestively.

“Christos,” I rolled my eyes demurely, “Romeo and Kamiko are going to be here any minute. We don’t have time to fool around. I still haven’t picked out an outfit.” Earlier, Christos had told me he had a surprise New Year’s Eve destination in store for all of us. I couldn’t wait to find out what it was.

“You’ll be gorgeous no matter what you wear,” he said, suddenly dipping me like a ballroom dancer.

“Oh!” I gasped.

He grinned.

I gazed into his liquid blue eyes. They bathed me in the light of his love.

He leaned toward me, licking his lips. “Agápi mou,” he murmured.

Phew! His fluid Greek accent melted me every time. My mouth parted as our lips met like lost lovers. We hadn’t kissed in, oh, I don’t know, about thirty minutes. My soul was parched and needed another drink from his sensual fountain. Christos poured himself into our kiss, his tongue caressing the sensitive spot under my upper lip before sliding across my teeth, then deeper into my mouth. My head started to spin.

I didn’t realize my bathroom could be this sexy. The next thing I knew, Christos had pulled me back to standing from our ballroom dip. His palms slid down my back and cupped my ass, huge hands squeezing hypnotically. Jolts of pleasure fingered up into my pelvis. Oh god. How did this man do this to me? I hooked my leg around the back of his, pulling him into me.

“Mmmm,” he moaned. “Aggressive. I don’t remember this behavior. Do I know you?”

I dropped my leg. “Stop, Christos,” I giggled.

“No, don’t stop. I like it when you do that.”

“You do?” Feeling shy, I studied the barbed tattoo that wired around one of his forearms, tracing it lightly with my fingernail.

“Yeah. It’s okay to be confident. I don’t mind one bit.” He grinned and slid a thumb across my cheek lovingly. “Let go, agápi mou. You’re safe with me.”

I gazed up into his eyes.

“Let your hands roam freely, Samantha. Explore my body with your fingertips. Your touch is electric, and powers my heart.”

I grimaced, but laughed and bonked my forehead against his chest. “I’m not San Diego Gas & Electric, Christos.”

“You sure?” he smiled confidently. “You totally light up my life, Samantha.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” I giggled, swatting his rock-hard shoulder.

“And you love it.” He flipped on his thousand-watt dimpled grin.

He was right. I did love it. And I loved him. I lowered my lashes, suddenly shy again. I snuggled my cheek into the black long-sleeve V-neck sweater covering his muscular chest. He was so completely manly, every woman’s fantasy, and he had given himself to me. I’d won the biggest lottery on the planet and had my dream-man all to myself. What more could a girl want?

I inhaled his fresh-washed scent. I could never tell if he wore some sort of exotic cologne, or if that was his natural smell. If it wasn’t cologne, somebody needed to bottle it. They’d make millions. “I love you, Christos,” I whispered, hugging him.

He caressed my neck with one hand while hugging me into his warm embrace with the other. “I love you too, Samantha.”

SAMANTHA

Christos and I hadn’t had any sort of intense sexual activity since before winter break.

Sure, I’d thought about sneaking into the guest bedroom while he’d slept at my parents’ house on a nightly basis. But somehow, the idea of rattling the walls with my wails of ecstasy while Mom and Dad were one room away had spoiled my mood.

Imagine that.

Shudder.

Since arriving in San Diego yesterday, we’d had plenty of first- and second-base hits in the bedroom, but no home runs. I was still somewhat off my game, no pun intended, after dealing with the whole Taylor Lamberth scenario back in D.C. Going to her lawyer and giving my deposition wasn’t exactly sexy or arousing, but it was the right thing to do. Christos totally understood. He always did.

Besides, merely being in D.C. had brought my old demons creeping back.

Bitch. Slut. Whore…

Fortunately, with the loving presence of Christos in my life, my old emotional wounds had started to heal over. I imagined in time, the scars would fade permanently, but it would take more than a few weeks.

Emo. Goth. Witch. Sorceress. Suicide Watch…

I couldn’t wait to get rid of those demons.

Now, wrapped protectively in his arms after conquering my toilet monster, I felt completely at peace. I was totally in love with him. There was no doubt about it. I had been crazy to think Christos was anything like Damian.

So, why did my love for Christos worry me so much?

The only answer that came to mind was that I risked losing him. I supposed that was the price we all paid for love, tolerating the terrible possibility that it could be torn from us in the blink of an eye.

I couldn’t decide what would be worse: never having had Christos in my life at all, or losing him after what we’d been through together. The sudden sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach was evidence that losing him would be far, far worse. I was instantly nauseous, despite Christos’ protective embrace. He couldn’t protect me from unexpected things that happened to him.

I tried to ignore the pressing conviction that I might lose Christos forever. Ugh. I didn’t want to think about it. I took a deep, cleansing breath, intending to sweep away my mental gremlins.

“Is something bothering you, agápi mou?” Christos asked, concern in his voice.

I didn’t want to ruin our mood. It was New Year’s Eve, and Christos had some awesome surprise awaiting me. “Oh,” I said dismissively, “it’s nothing.” I smiled up at him. “I’m fine, as long as I have you.”