Free Sam’s Creed by Sarah McCarty

his eyes. He wanted her. This, at least, was good.
    The salve was cool on her skin as he applied it with methodical thoroughness. A soothing balm to the irritated nerve endings. It was too bad this magic could not be smoothed over her fractured composure. She told herself she had no need to be embarrassed—Sam was just treating her wounds. And even if he took liberties, she’d invited them. It didn’t help. She was embarrassed and unsure.
    When his hand reached the softest part of her inner thigh, she couldn’t help herself. She grabbed his wrist, halting his progress. “I can do the rest.”
    Instead of leaning back, he leaned in. His lips brushed her ear, sending hot tingles down her spine that leapt straight to her thighs, coaxing them to part. He hummed his approval at the slight movement. The ache between her legs spread right along with her thighs.
    “You sure?”
    Again she couldn’t see his expression, but she just knew he was looking at her with that half amused, half provoking smile on his mouth. And she wanted to slap him for having so much control when she had none.
    But she couldn’t. Women that propositioned a man while on horseback really had nowhere to go with their expectations of respect.
    “I am sure.” She held out her hand for the tin. For interminable seconds her hand lay between them, her request dangling with it, waiting on his decision. She suspected that he deliberately made her wait. Did he think she would give in? He had a lot to learn about her. She could sit there on his lap until hell froze over or morning came without surrendering. She was very good at stubborn.
    Sam placed the tin in her hand. The other hand stayed on her thigh, the fingertips rubbing in tiny movements down low. She scooped up the salve and applied it to her other thigh, her knuckles occasionally brushing his. It seemed so intimate. So daring. And still he didn’t remove his hand from her thigh. The longer it sat there, the longer she got to think about it. The more she thought about it, the more aware of it she became. The more aware she became, the more her skin seemed to heat to the imprint of his fingers….
    She cleared her throat. “We are wasting time.”
    “Duchess, I never consider it a waste of time when I’ve got my hand between a woman’s legs.”
    “You are outrageous.”
    He took back the jar. “I’m not the one proposing relations on horseback with a stranger.”
    “It is not like that.”
    “Can’t see where I got it wrong.”
    Feeling vulnerable, she rubbed the remnants of the cream between her fingers and tugged her skirt down with the other hand. She made it one inch before he was tucking it back up again. Higher than before. She shot him a glare and held tight, barely preventing full exposure. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin. If he had not been intent on exposing her privates, she would have found it very endearing. The man had charm when he wanted to use it.
    “You forgot to do this side.”
    She hadn’t forgotten a thing. “Your hand was in the way.”
    “Then it’s only fair that I help.”
    His hand engulfed hers, directing her salve-covered fingertip back to her flesh, guiding her as he eased the cream onto her other thigh, first down then up, higher each time on the up, coming closer and closer to her woman’s flesh. He wasn’t touching her, but it felt as if he was. So much so that she felt she needed only to let him go just a little bit farther and something important would be revealed. He brought her hand back down, and then up in a slow seduction that was sinfully decadent. Lushly erotic. And totally out of her control.
    Isabella yanked her skirt out of his grip and her hand from under his.
    Sam chuckled, but didn’t fight with her. It was a deeply inviting, highly sensual sound. It made her want to laugh, too, for no other reason than to join in. She frowned and concentrated on applying the salve. It was easy to get down by her knees, but higher up