Throughout the ride, Samantha didn't say a word. She was pissed. She had stayed out of his life, but he wouldn't stay out of hers. And what the hell did he mean by fail-safe?
She stole a glance at him. He looked too calm. That pissed her off even more.
As soon as the car was parked, she stormed into the house. Once inside, she threw her bag on the big white sofa dominating the living room and started pacing.
Dave entered silently, leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching her.
She stopped pacing, stood in front of him, and glared.
"What the hell do you want?" she shouted.
He shrugged.
"What?!" she yelled again. "I've done everything you asked...everything! I let you be. I gave you space. I went to the hospital when you didn't want me to get an abortion. I didn't complain when you said it was my choice. I stayed the hell out of your business when your girlfriend came-"
"Ex-girlfriend," he cut in.
"I don't care!" she threw her hands in the air. "I let you do whatever you wanted. All I wanted was to get back to work, and you got mad?!"
"I didn't get mad because you went back to work," he said, his voice low and cold. "I got mad because you didn't tell me. We are married, whether you like it or not, and I won't let you cheat on me."
Samantha stood her ground. "I wasn't cheating, unlike you. I don't break my word! I didn't even know Ian would be there!"
"I don't believe you. You went to meet Ian because of what happened with Claire!"
"That's not true! What the hell do you even want from me?"
"I don't want to live like this!" His voice cracked, softer now. "I want you to love me."
"You want me... huh?" Samantha looked up at him, stunned. "What?"
"What?" Dave scoffed, almost in disbelief. "Is that so hard to comprehend? That I want my wife to love me?"
"But... you love Claire," she murmured, lowering her gaze.
She couldn't stand looking into his eyes; they were burning with too much emotion. Dave placed his hands on her shoulders, gently. She looked up at him again.
"Claire and I broke up over a year ago. I'm not interested in getting back with her," he said, eyes searching her eyes. "It's you I want."
"I—" the words caught in her throat. She closed her mouth. She didn't know what else to say.
"Mia?" His voice was low, almost pleading.
Samantha felt herself drowning in his gaze, the name Mia tugging at her heart. That's what he used to call her in Vegas.
"Why can't you be my Mia again?" he whispered. "Why are we hurting each other?"
"Be-because..." A tear slid down her cheek. Her lips trembled. "Because we're not in Vegas anymore. And you're not Chris. You're Dave. I don't know Dave."
His embrace felt like a cocoon, warm and safe. It felt right. But Samantha couldn't trust his words. He had lied about everything. One minute, he was sweet, and the next, he was threatening her.
Her feelings for him burned hot like TNT, but she couldn't bet her heart on a maybe. Slowly, she pulled out of his embrace and looked up at him.
"We started with a lie, Dave. Relationships built on lies don't work." She let go of his hand and stepped away. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to go on despite her heart. "Let's just stick to the original plan. I'll play the role of the perfect wife—and you can be with Claire."
"Sam-"
"It's what's best for everyone. You were right. We shouldn't bring a child into this world if we don't love each other. So I'll abort. And if I end up with Ian or someone else after the divorce, it won't be your business."
Dave sighed and closed his eyes. He looked tired, yet strangely calm. Leaning back against the wall, he cocked his head slightly and smirked.
"You're funny."
Samantha raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"
"So, I dated Claire. We broke up. I was fine with it. It was a relationship that had run its course," he began, as if he were giving a lecture. "She's a family friend. We grew up together. Dating her seemed like the logical choice, but—"
"Why are you telling me this?" Samantha interrupted, rolling her eyes.
"Let me finish," Dave said as he pulled a wooden chair over and sat. He looked up at her as he spoke. "I went to Vegas for one last bit of fun because I was also angry about getting married to a stranger. I was going to have my last big fun before coming back to New York to get married."
Samantha's eyes widened.
"I met you. Got to know you. And I called my dad after a week to tell him I wanted to cancel the marriage to your family because I had found the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."
Samantha staggered slightly. Dave reached out and pulled her into his lap. She tried to stand, but he held her firmly in place.
Resigned, she stared into his brown eyes.
"I met you again in New York and realized you were going to throw us... Everything away. You didn't even know you were getting married to me." His hand tightened around her, then relaxed. He rested his head between her neck and collarbone.
She held her breath. Her brow lifted. She licked her lips.
He continued. "Fate stepped in. You were going to be my wife. I had no intention of letting you go. When I want something or someone, I am not the type of man to let them go."
Her eyes flashed. "You knew who I was before we got married?"
"Yes, Mia. My future had you in it. You just needed to get on board."
"I-"
"So, get mad at our parents all you want." He tilted her chin toward his. "But don't think you're leaving me. You are my wife. The woman I fell for. And YOU. HAVE. FEELINGS. FOR. ME."
She shook her head softly. "No," she whispered.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. The wooden chair creaked loudly.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked, his voice low and filled with heat. A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes.
Samantha nodded, but didn't look away. His gaze held her captive.
"Okay." He smirked. "If you say no, I'll stop."
"Stop what?" she asked, cheeks flushing.
"Remember, you can just say no. That's the safe word."
Without breaking eye contact, he guided her hands around his neck. Samantha blinked, confused but frozen. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a long breath.
Then he lowered it again, letting his breath brush against her lips, close enough to kiss but holding back.
Samantha's heart pounded. Her head screamed no, but her body... her body had never leaned closer. She wanted this man despite everything, and it was maddening.
His forehead rested against hers. The gentle pressure centered her. His hand slid under her tight mini shirt, pulling the soft material to her waist while teasing the bare skin of her thigh. Her black g-string pressed against the bulge in his shorts.
She hated that her breath hitched. She hated how her thighs parted instinctively when his fingers teased the edge of her skin. Against the sheer fabric of her panties, she felt him, hard, poking and shocking all of her senses.
"Fuck," she whispered, barely audible.
Dave's grip tightened on her hips. His lips hovered by hers. "You want to hate me," he murmured, voice rough, "but you don't."
She gasped when his hand slipped beneath her panties and found her clit.
"You're wet," he groaned, almost whispering. "You are always wet for me."
He buried his face in her neck, trailing kisses down until he found the tender spot where her neck met her collarbone. He bit gently.
His fingers moved with unhurried purpose, circling, rubbing, teasing that small, sensitive nub with the maddening precision of someone who knows exactly what he is doing.
Samantha's head dropped back. Her nails dug into his shoulders.
Her hips started moving on their own, rolling in a slow circle on him. She needed him inside her.
She pulled his hand from her panties, yanked down his zipper.
He sprang free, thick, long, and hard.
Samantha stared, breathless.
"Was it always that big?"