Dead Ever After (Sookie Stackhouse #13)(71)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"Yay," I said as he laid me on the bed and joined me, practically in one movement, and then I couldn’t say another word, though I was thinking plenty of them, one-syllable words like good please again dick long hard. My bikini bra was history, and he was so happy with my br**sts. "I knew they’d be even better than I remembered," he said. "I am so . . . wow." And while he was busy with those, he was working with the bikini bottom, which proved Sam could multitask. I was freeing him from the ancient cutoffs he’d been wearing, and they might have had a new hole or two by the time I finally skinned them down his legs and tossed them off the bed. "Can’t wait," I said. "You ready?" He fumbled in his night table drawer.

"I’ve been ready for years," he told me, and he rolled on a condom and plunged in.

Oh my God, it was so good. The years of experience of my vampire lovers might have made them skillful, but there is so much to say for sheer heartfelt enthusiasm; and the heat of Sam, the warmth of him, it was like the sun was soaking into my body. The tanning lotion and the sweat meant we slid against each other like seals, and it was wonderful all the way to the shuddering, straining climax.

Would we have ended up making the best love ever if we both hadn’t been altered by the magic of the cluviel dor, if Sam had never died and I had never brought him back?

I don’t know and I don’t care.

The air-conditioned cool of the trailer was heaven after the heat of our joining. I shivered with the cooling of my skin and the aftershocks of the explosion.

"Don’t even think of asking if it was good for me," I said in a limp voice, and he laughed breathlessly.

"If I lie very still for about four hours, I might be ready to see if we could match the experience," he said.

"I can’t even think about that right now," I said. "I feel like I just plowed the back forty with a team of mules."

"If that’s a euphemism, I can’t figure it out," he said. The best I could manage was a feeble giggle.

Sam rolled to his side to face me, and I mimicked his move. He put his arm around me. I could feel him get ready to say something at least three times, but every time he’d relax, as if he’d thought the better of it.

"What do you want to tell me that’s taking you so long?" I asked.

"I keep thinking of things to say and deciding not to," Sam said. "Like, I hope we can do this again, and lots. Like, I hope this was something you wanted as much as I did. Like . . . I hope this is the beginning of something and not just . . . recreation. But you aren’t casual about who you decide to go to bed with."

I thought carefully before I spoke. "I wanted to do this a lot," I said. "I’ve put you off forever, because I didn’t want to lose the good thing I had in my job and your friendship. But I’ve always thought you’re wonderful, a great man." I ran my thumbnail down his back, and he did a little shivering of his own. "Now I think you’re even greater." I kissed his neck. "It’s awful soon after the ending of my relationship with Eric. For that reason, if no other, I’d like to take the heart-to-hearts slow. As we said when we first talked about this."

I could feel him smiling against my forehead. "Are you saying you want us to have wild, insane sex and not talk about a relationship? Are you aware that’s most guys’ dream?"

"I’m real aware of that, believe me," I said. "Telepath, remember? But I know there’s more to you than that, Sam. I’m giving you respect, and I’m giving myself some time to make sure I’m not rebounding."

"Speaking of rebounding . . ." Sam guided my hand down to his shaft, which was already well on its way to being up for activity. He didn’t need four hours after all.

"I don’t know," I said, considering. "This seems more like a ricochet."

"I’ll ricochet you," he said, grinning.

And he did.

Back in my own bathroom later that afternoon, I took my own sweet time soaking in a hot tub. My favorite bath oil scented the air pleasantly as I shaved my legs. Though I’d been tempted to linger in Sam’s bed all day, I’d made myself get up and go home . . . to get ready for our date.

Sam had agreed to come line dancing with me tonight, which was a happy thing for many reasons. For one thing, I was excited about spending time with him now that we’d smashed down a huge barrier. For another thing, it would be nice not to be a third wheel with Jason and Michele. For a third thing, I hadn’t heard a word from Mr. Cataliades or Diantha, so I was still in the dark about where Barry was and what he was doing, and I didn’t want to sit at home thinking about what his absence might mean.

And here’s my selfish confession: I was so happy, while I was soaking in the bathtub, that I almost resented having to worry about something, since I wanted to just roll in the pleasure of the moment.

I reminded myself in severe terms that my previous lover had barely left town and that it was absurd for a grown woman to plunge into something else so quickly. And I’d told Sam we were going to go slow about making promises and commitments to each other. I meant those things. But that didn’t mean the physical release and the excitement of having great sex with Sam wasn’t completely satisfying.

I shaved my legs and curled my hair and got my cowboy boots out of the closet. I’d had them for years, and since I wasn’t an actual cowgirl, they were still in really good shape. Black and white with red roses and green vines: I was proud every time I looked at them. I could go fundamental cowgirl with tight jeans and a sleeveless shirt, or I could go flirty dance hall with a full short skirt and an off-the-shoulder blouse. Hmmm.

Yep, flirty dance hall it was. I made my hair big and ripply, and put on my push-up bra to make my assets look outstanding and tan under the off-the-shoulder white eyelet blouse. The red-and-black-roses skirt swung with every step. I felt so good. I knew I would have to go back to my troubles and worries the next morning, but I was enjoying taking a little break from them tonight.

I’d called Michele, and we were meeting her and Jason at Stompin’ Sally’s, a big western bar out in the middle of the country twenty miles south of Bon Temps. I’d been to the bar/dance hall only twice in my life, once with JB du Rone and Tara back in our younger years, and once with some guy whose name I couldn’t even recall.

Sam and I got there about ten minutes late because we’d been a little shy at meeting again after our amazing encounter, and he’d wanted to break the ice by making out a little. I’d had to remind him sternly that we were going out tonight, not staying in.

"You were the one who said no love talk," Sam said, his sharp teeth nipping my earlobe delightfully. "I’m willing to go there. Roses. Moonlight. Your lips."