Lose Control (The Jewel Project #5)

33.2|| Too Much Love Will Kill You

Sam had been a damn idiot. Now that it was finally over, he couldn't understand why he'd hesitated in the first place.

His lack of communication with Christine looked laughable from the other side. Sex was natural, sex was wonderful, and he couldn't believe it had taken him this long to figure that out.

Though, as he watched Skye sleeping in his arms, he had to admit that maybe it was better this way.

He was even more exhausted if possible, his mind on the brink of a violent shut down, but his body strangely buzzed with an energy hard to contain. He needed to blow off more steam, do it again. And again until he'd be so exhausted, he'd black out.

But, even if electricity seemed to be coursing through his veins, he didn't have the heart to wake her up. She was burnt out and had already put up with him enough times. She needed sleep.

So did he, but his eyes wouldn't close. Every time he tried, all he could see was her body under his and it only railed him up more.

He secured the covers around Skye's naked body, pulled his jeans on and stepped into the living room, shutting the door silently behind him.

Then he began pacing, trying to burn off the excess energy and the desire to start all over again, while his mind replayed what had happened. Skye was amazing, soft and hot and so good at letting him know exactly what she wanted. He'd been more than happy to oblige, her pleasure increasing his tenthfold. For once, he had to agree with Kyle over his other brothers. The first time wasn't awkward or confusing. It was amazing.

But they did have a point that it got better each time. So good in fact, that it was all he could think about. Not that his brain had much capacity left. If he could only settle down and sleep. But all his body wanted to do was practice more.

"You're not waking Skye up," he mumbled to himself. "She's had enough for one day. Not her fault you're obsessed." Was he addicted? Could he be addicted?

His dumb thoughts were blissfuly interrupted by a knock on the door. Without giving it a moment's thought, he walked over and opened it. The air around him seemed to freeze and goosebumps erupted over his skin.

Christine stood in the doorway, wearing a brown trench coat and black, shiny high heel boots. She bore no resemblance to the mess he'd seen last time. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled, and her lips and cheeks were rosy. Her hair once again resembled a shiny chocolate waterfall.

"Hi, Sam," she purred, letting herself in and pushing the door closed with her heel. "Merry Christmas."

He couldn't compute this. His mind couldn't focus on what was happening and his body was a jittering mess. He probably looked like he was in withdrawl. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

"Did I interrupt something?" she asked shrewdly, looking him up and down. "Or were you waiting for me?"

He hadn't even buttoned his jeans, his hair was rumpled, he had no shirt on, and his feet were bare. Not exactly the best outfit or state of mind to face his ex.

"It's Christmas?" was all he could ask.

"Well, Christmas Eve, but I think you've been good enough to open your present ahead of time." She winked.

Her words were not registering as he stared at her. Yes, he could see her, he was aware this was real, but somehow, it wasn't. There was something devious in her wink, something that spoke of a danger he should have been able to forsee. He couldn't focus.

"Would you like to unwrap me?"

Her voice sounded funny, distorted. He didn't bother answering, so she took matters into her own hands and unbuttoned her coat. With a proud smile, she shrugged it over her shoulders. She only wore a bra and see-through panties set underneath, black lace embroidered with ruby-red roses.