My Stinky Sam.
Most people don’t know this, but fear can be smelled as easily as it can be seen. It seeps into the pheromones and releases through sweat. It triggers a heightened response in the brain of those that smell it, and my Bambi smells fucking delicious.
The heavy arousal and excitement that flows from her anytime we’re around each other is both intoxicating and addicting. So much so, in fact, that I almost slipped up. Almost gave in to the powerful urges I always have to fight against.
Hell, if she would have said yes when I asked her if she’d let me kiss her back then, I don’t think anything could have stopped me from giving in and taking her now.
And I want to. So. Fucking. Bad.
Have for so long, I don’t remember a time I didn’t. Unfortunately, it isn’t just the fact I’m nervous we’d mess up our friendship if we pursued what obviously streams between us. Though in all honestly, I think we’re perfect for one another.
We share many commonalities while challenging each other when we can. Our conversations flow easily, and we usually don’t go long without laughing. We fit in all ways two people can, except perhaps one.
It’s my… rough nature, I’m worried about.
My needs and desires to be dominant and give in to very primitive and carnal urges are something I don’t think my sweet Bambi would like.
Any man I’ve seen her date is generally softer in nature, the suit type, and doesn’t know which direction north is without a phone.
I’m much different from that. I’m all hard edges and only wear suits when our team is required to attend a dinner. I thrive in nature, both physically, and well, sexually. I’m not sure when it happened. When a game of tag became a need to hunt. When finding Sam felt like catching prey. Or when the adrenaline turned into exhilaration and arousal.
But now, it’s part of who I am–a part I need. And not knowing if Sam will accept that is enough to make me keep her at arm’s length.
For now, at least.
Samantha bends at the knee and checks under the cabinet. Her loose ponytail has fallen, spilling over her soiled white blouse. Forbidden visuals flash through my mind, and it takes too long for me to reel them in.
Flushed skin. Quick breathing. Trembling on the edge. Fuck.
“I’m not sure if I should be happy or irritated. I’ve had more than enough people look at this damn sink, and you fixed it in less than an hour.” She stands back up and crosses her arms, those big brown eyes glimmering with annoyance.
I shrug casually, tossing my shirt back on. “A thank you will suffice. Oh, and that drink.”
She huffs. “Yeah, yeah. Tell Willow they’re all on the house.”
“You tell her. You’re coming with me.”
Sam shakes her head, lifting her clipboard. “Still have lots to do and–”
The cell phone ringing in her pocket cuts her off. She digs it out and blows out a breath before answering. “What’s up?”
She listens for a response and shifts her eyes from me to scowling at the sink, then to herself in the mirror. Her brows shoot up, and her mouth drops as she takes in her disheveled appearance.
Dark dust covers the bridge of her nose and near her hairline, where she must have wiped her face. Her blouse is just as dirty, and the way her hair is barely held in place by the band, makes it appear as though she’s just got done wrestling.
Little does she know how utterly gorgeous she looks right now.
“Alright, let me get changed, and I’ll be right down.” Sam taps the red button before slipping her phone back into her pocket and glaring at my reflection in the mirror. “Why didn’t you tell me I looked this bad?”
I wave her off and answer honestly. “You look fine to me. Besides, you’re up here working. Did you expect to stay pristine?”
“Presentable at least.” She’s fussing with her hair now, running her fingers through it in an attempt to comb out the tangles.
“What’s wrong with getting a little dirty? Shows a job well done.”
Her brown eyes flash to mine briefly, and for a moment, I wonder if she hears the undercurrent message in my words.
God, what I would give to see her drenched in sweat, riddled with leaves and streaks of dirt, marked by my mouth.
My cock twitches in my jeans, the imagery adding more than I can handle right now. When I glance back at her, I realize I must have be wearing an expression that gives some type of insight into my thoughts because a blush has crept across her nose, and her breathing is louder.
I grin, trying my best to act unbothered–unphased by her natural reactions that sing to my urges. “I can help finish some of the things on your list if you’d like. Meet you downstairs in a bit.”
She’s silent for a moment before turning around and propping her hands on the sink at her side. “I mean, if you don’t mind. I didn’t plan on doing it till after the rush, but it would be nice to just have it done.”
“Of course.” I take the clipboard from her and scan over a few lines. None of it is too tedious and shouldn’t take longer than an hour. “This is still my home, even if my name isn’t on it anymore.”
Sam smiles softly, the skin creasing near her eyes. “If you insist, I won’t object. How long are you here for?”
“A couple of weeks. The next two games are close by.”
“Oh, nice.” Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth. “So you’ll be around to bother me?”
I lift my hand with the full intent to tug her lip free, but with the tension already so thick, I decide to grant us both some much needed relief. When I ruffle her hair, an annoyed laugh erupts from her mouth as she pushes me off.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Nodding, I clean up the supplies on the floor. “Yep. So make sure my spot on the couch is free.”
Sam rolls her eyes, handing me the clipboard. “Sorry, but Bell has taken a liking to your ‘spot’. She owns it now.”
“Good thing I like that cat. Guess your spot is mine now.”
Her nose scrunches up like a little mouse. “My ass. There are plenty of other cushions to choose from.”
I lower my gaze, unable to control the lust from seeping into my words. This is becoming harder than I realized to keep myself in check around her. “It’s mine now, Bambi.”
Her throat bobs with a thick swallow before she regains some type of composure. That’s when a sexy, defiant type of smirk lifts one side of her lips. “If you think you have a right to claim it, by all means, you can have it.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. My pulse increases as she spins on her heels and exits the bathroom. My every instinct is to grab her, throw her on the bed and claim her now, but the heavy truth of why I don’t, anchors my feet in place.
No matter how much we tread the line, it’s better this way. Safer. Because the illusion of the possibility is better than knowing the truth–I can never have her. Not in the ways I want.
But as hard as it is, it’s okay. Her friendship is worth more. Her genuine love and support are more than enough. I’m lucky to have her in my life at all, let alone being my closest friend.
“Hurry up and come down when you’re done. I’ll need saving from Willow,” Sam says over her shoulder.
Forcing my eyes on the paper she left behind, I chuckle nonchalantly. “That’ll cost you a buddy shot.”
Her laugh echoes down the hallway with words I never thought I’d hear. “Yes, sir. Whatever you say.”
Oh, Bambi. If only.
