Accidentally in Love, page 16
“You’re not smiling, Russell.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her shorts hit him in the chest.
Click.
He was smiling that time. Because when the light started blinking again, Russ took off his shirt.
Click.
And then his pants.
Click.
And then Sam was in his arms once again, mouth crashing into his, hands feeling everywhere.
Click.
THIRTEEN
TO DO
Don’t forget gingham backdrop
Ask Kit to cut my shorts (but not too short)
Find fuzzy dice for the bus’s rearview mirror
Extra bottled water AND sunscreen
Clipboard w/ email sign-up sheet
Visit the Simone’s food truck (try not to swoon)
When Russ matched her move for move taking off clothes, Sam knew she was a goner. The man was sexy as hell, tall and all lean muscles. When she launched herself at him—because she literally leapt into his arms—everywhere she was soft, he was hard, and it felt right. She wanted to touch every inch of his body, and from the looks of things, several inches of him wanted to do the same to her.
“Wait, Sam,” he said into her kiss, because she was determined not to stop kissing him. “The camera, is it still on?”
“No, there are only five photos on the timer.”
“Okay, good. I want to keep this part to myself.” His mouth was on hers again, tongues tangled and hot. She couldn’t get enough.
Russ moved them back to the bench against the gingham backdrop, sitting down so Sam could straddle him. They broke their kiss to move into this new position, and Russ looked up at Sam, caressing the nape of her neck.
“You’re gorgeous, Sam Sawyer.”
“So are you, Russ Montgomery.” When she said his name, she felt his hips move against her, the proof of his arousal against her own. She pressed her lips to his neck as they moved together, both of them moaning and gasping at the delicious friction.
“I don’t know when Cassie and Reid will be back,” Sam said when she felt Russ’s hands move to the clasp of her bra. “And I don’t have anything for . . . you know, protection.”
“I do, in my wallet,” he said, looking to his shorts. “Which I left in the truck.” Russ groaned and leaned his head back against the side of the bus, and then moved forward, nuzzling into Sam’s cleavage.
“We could always do other things.”
Russ peeked up, keeping his nose enmeshed in Sam’s chest, an eyebrow raised and a renewed twinkle in his eye.
“Are you sure, Sam?”
“Like I said before,” Sam replied, “let’s make the most of the time we have this summer.”
When he kissed her again, Sam felt every nerve in her body stand to attention. Then he kissed down her neck, and his hand slid up her thigh to her hip, and then down the front of her very simple black cotton underpants, which suddenly felt completely stifling. And she slid off his lap and stood to shimmy out of them, which Russ, delightful man as always, helped her do.
This was it, then . . . what she had been working her way toward since that night on the roof. They wanted a summer fling, so with the start of summer activities underway over Memorial Day weekend, Sam was ready to get things going at a breakneck pace.
At least that’s what she thought she wanted to do.
As wonderful as Russ felt, running his hands along the rim of her underwear, teasing her before touching her where she wanted, needed, ached for him to touch, Sam wondered if this was all moving too fast. They had hardly resolved the issues that still hung between them. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get too close to someone who would ultimately leave, and they both had so much riding on the success of their summer projects.
But Sam told herself that maybe, just for this evening, straddling him in a vintage bus while they still had a few more moments to themselves, Sam could put her invasive thoughts to the side and just feel. She could forget Russ was leaving or that she wasn’t always comfortable with her body. That her family life wasn’t bonkers right now and work wasn’t completely overwhelming. Instead, she would feel every single amazing thing Russ made her feel. Her hips bucked in response as his hand slowly dipped lower. He bent his head forward and was about to lick her tightly puckered nipple through her bra that was halfway off . . .
When Sam heard it. The familiar clomp of platform shoes that accompanied her boss wherever she went.
Which meant that Cassie and her fiancé—Russ’s brother—were right nearby.
“Russ,” Sam whispered. Dread and frustration matched the arousal building in Sam’s chest, the same area of her body that Russ had recently returned his glorious, wicked attention.
“Wait. No, really, I mean it becau—”
“Sam?” Cassie called from outside the bus.
“Oh shit,” Russ whispered, starting to laugh. Yet again he let his face fall into her breasts, and she wished they didn’t have to stop. Sam quickly clasped her bra closed and righted the straps that had slipped down her shoulders.
“Where did she go?” a deeper voice asked. A voice that made Russ sit up and part of him suddenly go down.
“Her purse is still here, so maybe she’s at the food truck?”
“I’m right here,” Sam yelled, putting her clothes back on as quickly as possible. “I’ll be right out.”
Somehow, she had the wherewithal to button her shirt correctly, and she remembered to pin her hair back up after it had fallen out when Russ was touching her neck, among other places on her body. She already missed the sensation. She didn’t bother with her shoes; she’d pretend she decided to walk around barefoot on the grass they were parked on for the teardown of the day’s events. She did, however, make the mistake of glancing at Russ before she went out, and she knew her face was bright red.
He was still almost naked, still grinning, and still hungrily looking at her like he’d just seen her in her underwear.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Sam asked, closing the bus door behind her and walking over to where Cassie and Reid stood.
“Not really. We were looking for a possible dining room hutch that could be converted into a coffee bar or something like that,” Cassie said, rolling up the mat they had in front of the door with the BB logo emblazoned on it. “Whoa, are you okay? You look overheated or something.”
“Oh, I have an idea of what’s going on,” Reid replied, smirking at Sam’s flushed appearance.
“What are you talking about? It’s hot in the bus without the AC on.” Sam narrowed her eyes at him.
“I’m talking about the fact that until a couple of months ago, I was doing my brother’s laundry along with mine. And one of his Captain America socks is stuck to your back pocket.”
Cassie did her best to hide her complete and utter joy when she realized Sam and Russ had been up to no good in her bus. She actually clasped her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter from spilling out. It didn’t really work, even with a dramatic cough to try to cover it up.
Sam stared sharply at Cassie, which only made Cassie’s stifled giggles inflate into full-on chuckles. Sam felt her skin flare red-hot, knowing her fierce blushing was giving them away. She couldn’t decide what was more upsetting—getting caught by Russ’s brother and future sister-in-law, who was also her friend and boss, or how much she wished they hadn’t been interrupted.
“What exactly were you two up to?” Cassie asked. “Russ, you can come out now.”
“Sam was, um, showing me the photobooth,” Russ said, coming out of the bus and pulling his sock from Sam’s butt. He was thankfully fully dressed, aside from his shoes.
“I’m sure that’s not all that was happening. Perhaps I should check the printer—”
“Cassie, please. Don’t.” The pleading in Sam’s voice was genuine. Sam hoped all the things she did for BB and Cassie would pay off in this one favor. Mentor to mentee, friend to friend.
Cassie turned away from the printer near the rear exit of the bus where the photobooth sheets would normally be picked up. “All right, fine. But I fully expect this bus to be sanitized before next weekend when we go to Do Division.”
Russ perked up. “How did you get in DD? Simone’s missed the submission deadline.”
“We’re not food or a vendor, so to speak,” Sam replied. “I convinced the organizers to let us apply as entertainment, so we had a later submission deadline.”
Russ nodded and seemed impressed. Sam was pleased. “Maybe I’ll stop by.”
“Not on my watch, you won’t.” Cassie stood with her hands on her hips. “Or at least not during business hours, baby boy. I can’t have you distracting my employee with your shenanigans.” Russ put his hands up in defense with a smirk.
Later, when everyone had finally finished tidying up and Sam had retrieved the incriminating photographic evidence from the printer, Russ leaned against the bus next to her after getting his wallet from the food truck.
“Heading home?” Russ asked, his hands in his pockets, and a lazy smile that matched his laid-back stance. Sam thought he was excellent at leaning.
“I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Sam replied.
“I was wondering, maybe we could walk together.”
“It’s like four miles, Russell.”
“That’s not that far.”
“We’ve both been working all day.”
“We can take our time,” he said, nudging her side as she closed the storage area under the bus. “I’ll buy you one of those frothy coffee drinks you act like you don’t drink but you actually love.”
Sam studied him for a moment, annoyed that he noticed every random thing about her.
“Fine.”
Waving as Cassie and Reid drove away in the photobus, Sam and Russ were very much alone again.
Sam had changed out of her checkered bowling shirt and into a simple black T-shirt. She kept the shorts she had on earlier—though this would be the last time she let Kit be in charge of altering her denim cutoffs; they were far shorter than she would have cut for herself. But she couldn’t deny the satisfaction she felt when she caught Russ checking out her ass. That, however, was nowhere near the satisfaction she had been on her way to feeling if they hadn’t been interrupted earlier.
Still, there was a part of Sam that was insecure in her body and how it made her feel, and she wondered if—even with the way Russ looked at her, like she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen—she could also come to see herself that way and truly believe it.
When she was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, Sam felt like her body had betrayed her. In a cruel twist of fate, Sam had actually been losing weight. She was attending dance classes and performing with Kit, eating healthier (albeit with extra servings of dessert, thanks to Kit), and she’d had bursts of energy that allowed her to complete endless tasks for the BB studio.
But now, everything was different. Her body had changed, her clothes either didn’t fit or fit differently, and she was tired all the time. She had taken a few different dosages of synthetic thyroid hormones before her doctor found the right balance, and it had taken time to get used to both the side effects and her new baseline of normal.
But Sam, and her penchant for solitude, didn’t want anyone to know she was struggling. She didn’t want to burden her friends with her lethargy or her personal qualms with how much her body had transformed into something she didn’t recognize. No one said anything directly—they knew she’d had thyroid surgery. She’d matter-of-factly told them how much time off she needed to recover, then she’d jumped right back into her old routine when she came back, and that was that. Sam had Cassie and Dana to turn to for inspiration, both in fashion and in confidence, or at least contentment. And she kept reminding herself that her road to body acceptance would take time.
But it was hard.
Sam couldn’t help but wonder, however, if Russ had noticed that she had changed. That she hadn’t danced burlesque in months, that she wore essentially the same outfit every time she saw him because she knew it’s what she felt good in. One part of her wanted him to acknowledge that she wasn’t the same girl in the tiny bikini at the photo shoot where they first met, but another part of her liked that he wanted her anyway.
And judging from the swift and obvious arousal she felt through his shorts in the dim light of the photobus as she took her clothes off, Sam figured he was okay with her body type.
Russ’s hand on her waist snapped her out of her thoughts. They had begun walking, starting their long trek back to River North.
“Sam,” he said softly, pulling her close to him as they strolled at a leisurely pace. “What’s going on?”
“I’m just tired, I think,” Sam heard herself say. Her voice sounded small and unsure of what was coming out of her mouth. “Today was such a big day for the BB bus, and now it’s over. And we’ll do it all again next week. I’m sure you understand.”
He nodded. “Is there anything else?”
Sam turned away. “Oh look, an overpriced café—didn’t you promise me a coffee?”
A few minutes later they were back on their trek home, and Sam concentrated on the whipped cream topping her beverage.
“Sam, you know you can talk to me,” Russ said, also looking down at his iced coffee rather than directly at her.
“Likewise, Russell,” she said, bumping her hip to his.
“So tell me more about your promotion. Has it changed things in the studio?”
Could he tell she was nervous? Could he tell she was anticipating making out with him later on and continuing what they started? Because that was practically all she could think about while she chewed on her paper straw, which was quickly disintegrating.
“Well, have you heard about Dana and Riki? They are abandoning us and moving to the suburbs,” Sam began. She told him everything, from Riki’s position at Bugles being open, to the strange photo shoot she led the other day and how obsessed her boudoir client was with him. “To be fair, I got some really great shots, but it was weird to know she was thinking about you and not her fiancé.”
“Who would you think about when you were modeling?” Russ asked. At the photo shoot last year, she and Kit were featured alongside Cassie in Dana’s lingerie and swimwear line, Dreamland. Along with the infamous silver lamé bathing suit, Sam had worn a pair of platform combat boots and her eyes were rimmed with so much eyeliner and mascara, she could barely see. But she saw Russ, that’s for sure. And she knew he saw her, too. But that was thirty pounds ago, and she hadn’t put on a swimsuit since.
“I don’t know. I haven’t modeled professionally since that big shoot, and that was different with so many moving parts. Besides, I like being behind the scenes much more.”
“What about when you danced burlesque? I saw you do that a few times,” Russ said, as though she could have forgotten. The thought of him watching her and Kit dancing together was both enticing and terrifying. Burlesque had been such an important creative outlet for Sam. Her burlesque persona, Whiskey Sour, was the woman Sam wanted everyone to believe she was—dark, dangerous, and witty to a fault, with the dial turned up to eleven. And playing off Kit’s stage persona, Champagne Blonde, had been so much fun. But not anymore. Just for one other person in the privacy of a nicely renovated bus, though? Sam was open to that possibility again.
“I also haven’t really been dancing since, well, everything.”
“I don’t want to pry,” he said. “But it has been mentioned to me that a lot has happened recently, even before everything with your parents. Specifically, to you.”
Sam nodded, gulping down more sugary-sweet icy coffee, wincing as a brain freeze spread from her temple. She was ready to make out with Russ, not to dissect her health history. This was not how the evening was supposed to go.
“You know about my dad,” Sam said, glancing his way and noticing he was intently listening. “But late last year, I was diagnosed with an overactive thyroid, so I had to have it removed—”
“Wait, you had surgery?”
“Yup, when I was ‘on vacation’ a few months ago,” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. She raised her chin and pointed to the thin scar on her neck. It wasn’t super obvious, but Sam recognized when other people saw it because they always did a double take. “I like to tell people who notice it that I was almost decapitated.”
“Do they ever ask how?”
“Nope, that’s usually enough to deflect further questions.”
“Cheers to that,” Russ said, raising his cup of plain iced coffee to her. “So, then what?”
This was the part she dreaded talking about. To her mom, to Kit, to the therapist she had seen for a couple of months. The part about feeling bad about how she looked now. Sam never considered herself particularly vain, and always supported anyone with how they looked.
“I know I probably look different than I did when we first met.”
“You’ve always looked beautiful,” Russ said without missing a beat, and Sam felt her heart flip before saying what she’d been avoiding.
“I mean . . . heavier.”
Sam could tell Russ was thinking about what to say in response, and she appreciated that he was being careful. But she was dreading what he would say now that she’d admitted this to him.
“Sam, I can tell you don’t want me to say I don’t care about that. But I don’t, and I’m going to say it again anyway. I think you’re beautiful. A little weird and moody, but beautiful.” He stopped their slow walk by touching her arm and then motioned to a park bench. “You’ve had a shitty few months. But you’re coping, right?”
