Okay, she wasn’t chilly anymore.
The pan clattered a little when he set it on the stove, and Riley winced. “Shh. Marley’s sleeping.”
“She wears earplugs.”
Riley scowled, and Sam noticed. His dimple flashed. “When she first moved to Boston, she complained about the traffic noise at night. She’s used to living in an old inn in the Maine woods.”
She tried to toss off a casual shrug to pretend she hadn’t suspected—or cared—that he knew for a more personal reason. Sam backed away when she moved to the stove and flicked on a burner.
“You want some vanilla milk?” she offered. “I’m assuming you can’t sleep, either.”
“No, too much going on.” He leaned against the counter a couple of feet away and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’d love some. Never had vanilla milk. It works?”
She shrugged again and poured the milk into two mugs, then the pan. “There’s tryptophan in the milk, just like in turkey, and that’s what makes us sleepy after a turkey dinner. The warmth is soothing, and the vanilla just tastes good. I haven’t had it in years, though. Something made me think of it tonight and it seemed worth trying.”
Sam stood by silently while she added vanilla and sugar to the pan and stirred. Then there was nothing to do but wait. She stared awkwardly at the still milk and struggled for something to say. Sam was looking down at her, and between that and the growing need to flatten her hands on his chest, she couldn’t think of a word.
“I heard you and Marley talking earlier.” Sam unfolded his arms and braced his hands on the edge of the counter behind him.
Riley flushed, wondering if she’d said anything stupid or embarrassing. “I didn’t realize we were that loud.”
“You weren’t. Tiny apartment. Flimsy walls.”
She nodded and tore her gaze away from the stove. To look up at him hurt her neck, so she shifted to lean diagonally opposite him, putting a few feet between them. Sam’s gaze skimmed down her body, and a new wave of heat followed. Her oversized T-shirt and cotton sleep pants weren’t very sexy, but something put appreciation in his eyes.
He cleared his throat and turned to give the milk a stir before resettling into position. “Yeah, she told you about Quinn and me. I just wanted you to know that’s long over.”
Riley’s mouth twitched into a smile before she controlled it. Her heart bounced. There was only one reason for him to tell her this. “Okay.”
“She’s still my best friend, and I’d do anything for her and Nick. But that’s all there is.”
“Okay,” she said again, her pleasure fading when he lapsed back into concerned contemplation. “How sick is she?”
He sighed and pushed a hand through his shaggy hair, then leaned to glance down the hall as if to make sure Marley’s door was still closed. “I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Marley. Apparently, pretty sick. The power the leech took, it’s energy from four different goddesses. She’s not supposed to have it inside her like that, and I guess she’s starting to suffer for it.”
Riley didn’t understand. The energy she drew on left her when she used it. “Why can’t she expel it?”
“This is different.” He shook his head, rubbing one hand over his chest. “It’s more than just energy, it’s…I don’t know, potential? She can’t get rid of it, not without sending it back where it came from.”
“And she can’t do that?”
He winced. “Nick says they’ve found a way, but they need me to help.”
Riley felt a sinking disappointment. “Are you leaving, then?” A curl of steam rose over the pan, and she stepped forward to test the temperature, glad to be able to hide her expression from Sam. But his answer surprised her.
“No. Not now.”
She looked up, and his eyes were intense on hers. She swallowed. “Why?”
“Because I’m needed here. We need to figure out what Anson’s doing. John said he works for Millinger, and there are other people from that company approaching goddesses.”
“Attacking them?” It hadn’t occurred to her that Vern and Sharla and all the other harassment might not have been personal.
But Sam shook his head again. “No. Some of them are uneasy about the whole thing, but no one’s gone through what you have. Which makes me more concerned.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” She carefully poured the hot milk into the mugs. Being a target was bad enough, but for that to be part of some bigger plan added a new layer of nefariousness. “So what do we do?”
Sam accepted the cup and sipped, then smiled. “This is good.” He turned serious again. “We train you. Help you get some control over your abilities and learn what you’re capable of. Figure out what the deal was with your family, since that’s the other main reason we came here. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to figure out what the hell Anson and Millinger are up to, so we can stop them.”
Riley nodded. They drank in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Well, mostly comfortable. Every time he raised his mug, swallowed, licked his lips, something hungry got a grip inside her. She liked everything about him, from the shape of his mouth to the glide of his throat and the way his fingers wrapped almost all the way around his mug. Her body tingled, and she wished they’d met under different circumstances. When she wasn’t a lonely, clueless woman in jeopardy looking for him to save her.
When her mug was empty, she placed it and the pan into the sink to wash in the morning. “I think I can sleep now,” she lied.
“Me, too.” Sam’s arm stretched past her to set his mug next to hers, and he didn’t ease back afterward. Riley stood still, breathing faster, hoping he wouldn’t move away. Her nipples puckered against the soft fabric of her T-shirt. If he was looking, he had to notice. She soaked him in, just inches away, afraid to raise her head and find that she was delusional, that he was oblivious to her proximity and examining the dirt on top of the refrigerator or something.
But then his hand nudged her chin upward. The heat in his gaze made her breath catch. Her mouth parted and his eyes lowered to it, eyelids dropping seductively.
“Thanks for the milk,” he murmured. His body tilted toward hers.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open, to keep her body from going completely soft in case this was all in her head and she was about to look very stupid.
But Sam slowly closed the distance between their mouths. A shiver went through Riley when they met, a gentle press, a perfect meeting with no awkwardness or misalignment. He smelled incredible, just himself this time, no city air or bar aromas mingling with pure Sam. Her hand came up to his chest, and his skin was hot despite the cool apartment. He made a small sound in the back of his throat, and then his hand pressed into the small of her back, pulling her closer. His mouth opened, parting her lips, and his tongue touched hers. Asking permission. She opened wider and he accepted the invitation with a sigh and a hint of hunger. His arms wrapped around her and his other hand cupped the back of her head. He surrounded her, and Riley melted with the realization that never in her entire life had she felt she belonged somewhere like she belonged here.
Sam slowly broke the kiss and loosened his hold. He wasn’t breathing hard like she was, but unsteadily, and she could have sworn his hand shook when it swept her hair back over her shoulder. He smiled, a promise, and Riley smiled back.
He kissed her on the forehead and murmured, “Goodnight, Riley. Sleep tight,” before sliding away. A moment later, his bedroom door clicked closed.
Hugging to herself the first sense of joy she’d had in a very long time, Riley went to her own room and fell asleep easily, a smile still on her face.