and behaving in real life like the bastard he’d always pretended to be in the ring. He had reverted to his angry, unrelenting persona with a vengeance, drawing even more notoriety as he had worked his way through a dozen challengers, without allowing anyone a fighting chance to take his championship belt from him. Not after he had told her he’d won it for her. Not after he had shown the world he wanted her and had laid his soul at her damn feet. He had completely ignored his contract and the number of fights he was supposed to let others win to bolster their images. Nobody wanted to get into that ring with him now. Not even the Wolfman.
But what had he given her, besides the constant sexual satisfaction she seemed to crave from him? He thought of the many times they had lain in each other’s arms after making love and although he had wanted to tell her that she was more than just someone to enjoy in his bed, he had not uttered the words. There had been times when he had felt that she expected something more from him. But he had let those times pass. What had he expected from her? He clenched his teeth and swore silently at himself.
He had expected her to give up her own existence to serve his needs and wants. He had expected her to leave her home and move in with him. Would another woman have been so willing to give up everything to suit his needs? She had left an independent, self-sufficient life to save a friend from financial ruin. She had agreed to be his personal plaything to make up what she thought was a wrong she had certainly not committed.
And he had let her. He had used her. He was a selfish prick.
He was missing. Something more than her presence in his bed. More than her warmth in the night. More than the way she made him feel like he was Superman incarnate. God, yes.
He groaned softly deep in his throat and closed his eyes. Had he fallen in love with her? He knew the answer to that question without having to think it over. He had fallen under her spell.
He wanted her. His woman. His.
He drew a deep breath. She was still his. And if she thought she could simply dump his ass like some second- rate jerk, she had another think coming.
Sam drew a slow breath, stretching in the chair to ease the muscle cramp that had interrupted her writing. Her hands went to the tight knot in her back and she frowned. Sitting for hours at the keyboard was a royal pain in the ass. As well as the back.
Snowball meowed at her from where he sat on her lap, cleaning his rear half, and she grinned at him. “I appreciate the encouragement, sweetie, but I think I’m about done here. Have to stop sitting like a damn lump and start taking walks again. Maybe get out my old Pilates tapes. Huh? That sound like fun?” Oh sure.
She reached for the keyboard and attempted to type again, then sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. She was once again at a mental roadblock.
It wasn’t as easy to write a screenplay as it was to write a book. She had gotten some very good software that helped her edit and cut out extraneous material that could never be truly useful in a film or play but she had been forced to cut so much out, it didn’t really make sense to her anymore. She had cut a novel from a thirty-hour read to a three-hour skeleton of what the story was about. It made no sense whatsoever. And still more had to be pared to fit.
She drew a shaking breath and shoved the keyboard away. “Sorry, Snowball, but I have to get up and walk around. And I need food.” She put the cat on the floor and stood, stretching wearily. Her stomach growled. Just as she started into the kitchen for a snack, the doorbell rang and she swore softly.
“What the hell is it now?” she muttered, turning into the living room. She glanced at her watch and frowned. No one she knew would bother her after seven. Unless Phyllis had been in the area and felt the need to check on her progress. She sighed and opened the door, leaving the chain lock in place.
He seemed to fill the entire hallway outside her apartment door and she found herself just staring at him. No sound came from her open mouth as her eyes moved over the well-remembered body that stood before her. Her heart was hammering in her throat. Her pulse was racing.
No. He could
She lifted her gaze to those haunting black eyes and saw uncertainty there. Her eyes drifted down that impossibly muscular frame, hot memories flooding back into her mind and causing reactions throughout her body. She bit the corner of her lip and prayed that he wouldn’t notice her legs shaking.
David swallowed as she opened the door a few inches and her eyes widened in shock at seeing him standing there. He found his pulse racing, his blood roaring in his veins. He tried very hard to remain calm. He felt as if he’d just been body-slammed to the mat as his eyes drifted down her succulent little body clad in sweatpants and a loose-knit sweater. Sweet Jesus. She could wear a fucking gunnysack and still manage to turn him on. He fought not to heave into her chain lock with his shoulder and drag her into his arms and-
“You gonna slam the door in my face, or are you gonna be polite and ask me in?” His voice was tight.
Sam shivered at the sound of that deliciously husky voice and she thought seriously about doing the former. But instead she closed the door, unhooked the chain lock and opened it fully to say, “I just didn’t- I mean you didn’t-” Her eyes narrowed. “How the hell did you find me?”
“Your business manager barely managed to squeak the address out as I was strangling her to death.” He ran a lean hand through his rumpled hair. His eyes were dark, smudged from lack of sleep and thrumming with what appeared to be deep frustration.
She swallowed hard. “Come in, David.” She stood back and watched him walk past her into the center of her living room. The sight of him had taken her breath away and she was unable to say more. She closed the door quietly and motioned to the sofa. “Please sit.”
He was looking around her apartment, his dark gaze sweeping the comfy room with its soft pastel furnishings. “Nice place.” His murmur was soft. He remained on his feet, looking massive and brooding and dangerous and madly sexy.
“We like it.” Her voice was breathy.
David returned his eyes to her pale face and he tensed. “We?”
“Snowball and me.” She saw the look of relief in his eyes.
“Aren’t you gonna offer me a cup of coffee or a sandwich?” His expression was unreadable. He seemed to fill her entire living room with those broad shoulders and that menacing size of his. He was looking at her as if he would happily forgo the sandwich and would prefer to feast on her.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t have a coffeemaker here. I never drink it. But I do have tea. Want some herbal tea?” Why the hell was she so eager to jump to do whatever he wanted? She bit her lip. “Or I might have a soda somewhere buried in the fridge.” God she was pathetic.
“Anything you have for me would be fine.” His eyes were enough to make her swallow her tongue. She sensed the double entendre but chose to ignore it.
“Come on into the kitchen, David. I’ll see what I have in the fridge.”
Snowball was winding his body around David’s ankles and she frowned at him. She was about to tell him to go away but large hands scooped him from the carpeting and carried him up to that marvelous chest, where he scratched the cat’s ears and grinned as the damn little turncoat began to purr loudly. She felt an instant irritation that he had charmed her cat.
“Hello, buddy. You miss me?” David asked the purring cat in obvious surprise. He stroked the soft fur as he followed her into the kitchen.
“I hope you like root beer with your ham sandwiches.”
“Fine by me.” His voice was tight.
She sensed that his eyes were on her as she worked to fix him a thick sandwich and she almost lost hold of the mayonnaise jar. When she carried a plate over to the table and set it in front of him with a glass of ice and the soda, he thanked her politely and poured the root beer into the glass slowly, as he took a huge bite of the sandwich.
“Why did you come all this way, David?” she asked numbly.
“To get a sandwich and a soda. Good sandwich. Thanks. I didn’t stop for anything to eat and the flight didn’t serve a meal.”
She watched him, mesmerized, as he finished the sandwich and drained the glass. And when he sat back and sighed, she nearly lost control of her voice as she asked softly, “You think I’m going to just run back to Chicago with
