Pas de Deux: Part One (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 1) (27 page)

She noticed Cillian had disappeared, along with her sisters, and suspicion immediately swept through her. Before she could go hunt them down, they reappeared. Niq and Toni acted as if nothing was wrong, and Cillian wore a small, amused smile on his face. Sammi handed him the largest of the plastic shopping bags stuffed with cartons in her hands and his eyes widened.

“Wow. Thanks.”

At the door, Sammi faced her sisters, handing them their bags of leftovers.

“What was that all about? What’d you do to him?”

“Nothing you need to be worried about.” Niq patted her cheek.

“We just had a little friendly chat, that’s all,” Toni added.

“What’d you say to him?”

“Samantha, stop worrying, for Christ’s sake. He’s a good guy. We like him.” Niq leaned in to peck her forehead.

“Really?” She glanced at Toni.

“Yes, baby sister.” Toni kissed Sammi’s cheek. “We like him. We’re just lookin’ out for you, kid. We love you, okay? Now, we gotta get these kids home and in bed. Call you tomorrow.”

Sammi glanced over her shoulder and saw Cillian talking to her father in the dining room. She crept over, catching the tail-end of their conversation.

“…good man. I like you. You’re welcome in my house anytime.”

“Thank you, sir.” Cillian shook Joe’s proffered hand, then her father leaned in, keeping Cillian’s hand clasped in his.

“But if you ever hurt my daughter, I got ways to make you disappear forever. No one will miss you that much. We clear?”

“Yes, sir. Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good.” He clapped Cillian on the shoulder and spotted Sammi. “Ah, my sweet girl. I was just telling Cillian here how much I like him. He’s welcome back anytime.”

“Every Sunday,” her mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Sammi laughed and reached out to hug and kiss her father. “That’s good to know. Hopefully none of you scared him off.”

The entire family congregated at the door, and the noise rose to a deafening level as everyone said goodbye at the same time.

Cillian shook hands with Uncle Gino. “Nice meeting you, sir.”

Uncle Gino shook his hand in return. “You take care of my niece. Or it’s your ass.” He gripped onto Cillian’s hand for an extended beat without smiling, then let go with a nod.

“Okay, bye, Uncle Gino,” Sammi said hurriedly before any more threats against Cillian’s life were made. “Bye, Daddy. Bye, Ma. Thanks for dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned to Cillian. “Ready?”

“If you are.”

He followed her out the door and across the courtyard. Sammi heaved an enormous sigh of relief, glad it was over. It would be much less tense and more easy-going next time.

If there’s a next time.

She glanced at Cillian. “You survived.”

“You got a great family, I like them. Your mom reminds me a lot of mine, except yours is a way better cook.”

“What did my sisters say to you?”

He laughed. “They shoved me in the bathroom and told me that if I ever hurt you, they’d cut my balls off and shove ‘em up my ass. Then your father threatened to make me disappear, and your uncle is gonna take me out if I breathe wrong.” He nudged her in the ribs. “You must be pretty special if your entire family is threatening to end my life.”

“And they mean it.”

“I got that, loud and clear.”

They walked together in silence until they reached her apartment door. Sammi faced him reluctantly, her eyes downcast.

“Listen, about last—um, last night. I really want you to know how sorry I am for acting like that, and how much I appreciate…well.” She blushed. “A lot of guys in your position might not’ve been as nice and…and…
gentlemanly
as you were. And although it doesn’t seem like it, on account of me throwing my alarm at you, I really appreciate that.”

“You’re my—friend. I’d never take advantage of you like that.”

“I just don’t want you to think that, like—” She sighed in frustration. “That I’m the type of girl that—”

His fingers brushed her chin as he tilted her face up, making her look him directly in the eye. “Sam, I think you’re an incredible girl. Please stop worrying about it.” He smirked a little. “And, now I know. Never,
ever
let you drink hard alcohol. Well, maybe not
never
…” His eyes twinkled.

She groaned and shoved his shoulder.

“Hey, be careful with me,” he warned. “I’m stuffed to the brim and I could explode all over you.”

“That would be disgusting.” She grinned.

He held her gaze for a beat. “Well. I better get home. I gotta get up early tomorrow.”

“Training?”

“Yup. Then work.” He hefted the sack with his leftovers. “Thank your mom again for me. And thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

“I didn’t. My sister did. And it wasn’t an invite; it was a threat.” She smiled.

“Touché.” He chuckled. “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Goodnight.”

She reached out to give him a hug, and his free arm slipped around her, hand settling at the small of her back. Still in family-goodbye-mode, she automatically lifted her face to kiss his cheek as he turned his face toward hers.

Her lips clumsily bumped the corner of his lower lip and she immediately pulled her head back, color flaming in her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He didn’t pull away from her. Their eyes met for a long moment, his narrowing slightly as they moved over her face, and Sammi swallowed hard.

I’m not ready…

Then Cillian leaned in closer, his eyes dropping to her mouth. She jumped when she felt his nose brush the side of hers, his lips hovering near hers, asking a silent question as his eyes met hers once again. Fear threatened to tear her to pieces in that moment.

Stop it. I want this.
Sammi summoned all her courage. She tilted her head slightly and held perfectly still, squeezing her eyes shut.

Cillian pulled in a quiet breath, and a moment later, the lush warmth of his lips on hers made her eyes fly open, her heart tattooing wildly in her chest. He paused, the warmth and pillowy softness of his mouth disappearing as he pulled back a fraction of an inch.

Don’t stop. This feels…amazing.

Tentatively, she returned his kiss, allowing her eyes to close all the way. It was all the encouragement he needed, and one hand swept up her arm to slide under her hair and gently squeeze the back of her neck.

The sensations overwhelmed her—the smooth, unbelievable softness of his lips; his calloused hand lightly stroking the back of her neck, and then her cheek and jaw; the warmth of his breath flowing through his nose and tickling her cheek. How could she have ever felt panic at something so sweet?

She relaxed completely into him, parting her lips ever so slightly, and followed his movements, feeling him out, letting his mouth do most of the work. It was her first kiss in a very long time, and she felt rusty, nervous…and eager.

His lips moved over hers languidly, as though he had all the time in the world, never deviating from his slow, easy pace. A wave of emotion, strange, foreign emotion, but wonderful and warm, quickly swept her away. Her lips began returning his kisses quickly, eagerly, as if they unconsciously wanted to keep time with her racing pulse.

Cillian smiled against her lips. “Slow,” he whispered, his thumb stroking her cheek gently.

His gentle command sent ripples of delight over her skin, her fists twisting into his shirt. As he continued to kiss her languorously, she started to get curious about his tongue, wondering if he would try to use it, and decided that if he did, she might be okay with it. But instead of deepening the kiss, he pulled away from her slowly with a gentle smack of his lips, his knuckles brushing her cheek as his eyes moved over her face as if to memorize every curve.

One corner of the luscious mouth that had just been against hers lifted. She stared at it, then shyly met his gaze, hardly believing what just happened.

A slow smile spread across her face, and he touched the dimples in her cheeks before he pulled her keys out of his pocket and handed them to her. Her fingers twined in his and he lifted them to his lips.

“Goodnight, Sammi.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

She was still smiling when she closed and latched the door, listening to the thump of his footsteps fade away down the hall.

The next evening, Sammi rode the bus to the rec center for another couple of hours of work on her piece. On her lap was a little brown paper sack that contained a single mini apple pie. It was a Jazz-special, the filling containing bits of chopped fried bacon, and the crust bursting with the flavor of off-the-block grated cheddar cheese.

“Take one to your new boyfriend,” Jazz had said before they closed up that night, pushing the sack toward her.

“I could do that,” Sammi had replied. “He doesn’t have time to eat much during the day.”
As if I need a reason to go see him.

Sammi planned to describe her kiss with Cillian to her friend in detail, like they were fifteen years old again, but found herself being a little reticent when she opened her mouth to share that morning.

“That’s it?” Jazz’s face had fallen like a soufflé. “‘Cillian kissed me’ is all I get?”

“Sorry. It was just—just so—” Sammi smiled and shook her head. There were no words to adequately describe it. It had been incredible, special; she wanted to keep the memory and the feelings just for herself.

Outside the gym, nervous energy fluttered in her belly and she hesitated for a moment outside the doors, ignoring the raindrops pelting the hood of her jacket. Since last night, she and Cillian had exchanged a few text messages, but they’d been generic “goodnight”, “good morning” type messages. He hadn’t said a word about the kiss, and neither had she.

Did he like it as much as I did? Has he been thinking about it as much as I have?

On the heels of her over-analytical mind whirling out of control, memories of soft, confident lips on hers, large warm hands holding her close, caressing her with possessive care crowded into her brain.

I might be out of practice, but it’s not rocket science. He was into it.

She reached out to pull the door open, but hesitated again, glancing over her shoulder. Two blocks up would take her to the rec.

You could just go there now. Bypass any awkwardness, and keep the pie for yourself. Bonus.

“Heading inside, miss?”

Sammi whirled around, seeing a guy walking up to the door with a gym bag slung over one shoulder. He gave her a pleasant smile and opened the door.

“After you.”

“Uh—yeah. Thank you.”

Sammi stepped inside, clutching the now-soggy paper bag. The heat of multiple active bodies, the stench of sweat, and the energy of testosterone hit her right in the face like a blast from a warm oven.

Carl was at the front desk, talking on the phone. “Yeah. The walls are painted, floors done. No, wall’s still up. I’m gonna want the bar counters installed first week of June. Shootin’ for a July open date. The old place? Eh. Use it for storage.”

Sammi tilted her head.
What’s he talking about?

He looked up as she approached. “Gotta go. Call you later.” He hung up, a slow smile spreading over his face, and she shifted under his penetrating gaze.

Why does he always look at me like that?

“Hey, Sammi.” His voice was low and his eyes raked her up and down. “What’s up? Can I help you with anything? Everything goin’ all right? Haven’t seen you around here lately.” He tilted his head and made a mock-sad face, pouting his lips.

“Everything’s fine.” Sammi glanced away. “Is Cillian here?”

“Cillian?” Carl’s smile faltered for an instant, then steadied. “Sure. He’s hittin’ the bags. Can I walk you back?”

“No, thanks. I know where to find him.” She stepped around Carl, but he stopped her, taking hold of her arm. Sammi frowned down at it.

He’s touching me. Why the hell is he touching me?

“We liked having you here.” His eyes flicked to her lips. “You inspired a buncha women to join. You ever comin’ back to me?”

Coming back to you?

“I’ve been pretty busy lately. Workin’ on this dance thing right now.” She moved her arm, hoping to inspire him to let go.

“A dance thing, huh? What kinda dance thing?”

Sammi looked at him, taking in a deep, silent breath, suppressing the urge to yank her arm away. “A ballet thing. Um, I’m sorry to be rude, but I really need to—”

Carl let her arm go with a smirk. “Sure. Nice talkin’ to you, Sammi. Feel free to come by and see me anytime.”

Yeah, no.
“Right. Later.”

She headed toward the bags, trying to shake off the creepy, skin-prickling feeling Carl gave her and wondering if she should tell Cillian. It might be premature, but they were at least friends, and Carl made her uncomfortable.

The faint sound of fists hitting material hard led her in the direction she wanted to go, and she rounded the corner of the ring toward the cluster of bags.

Then again, he’s managing Cillian for that tournament and you don’t want to fuck things up somehow. He seems like the type—