It Means She Likes You
Brooke raised her eyebrows in a haughty and mocking fashion. "Journalist?" she asked incredulously. "Journalist?" she asked again, feeling the need to stress just how ridiculous she found the notion. "You're like the…the Lisa Ling of journalism. You're all `look at me, I'm talking out of my ass about things I know nothing about! Hey, I have a loud and grating voice, pay attention to me!' Having the mentality of a paparazzi and the ethics of a lawyer doesn't make you a journalist, it makes you annoying as hell," she continued as her arms fluttered about scornfully while she made quotations marks with her fingers.
When she finished with her theatrics she focused all of her attention on Sam, watching her intently. At first the brunette was merely looking at her, but the longer the silence between them remained the more tightly drawn Sam's features became. Soon her mouth formed a grim line and her nostrils flared slightly.
Brooke struggled to maintain her stoic expression as she sensed Sam about to explode at her. There was a fluttering in her stomach, her body suddenly felt energized. She wanted to dance like a dervish or sing like a lark, maybe even cross the room doing cartwheels. The longer it took Sam to respond to her, the more excited she became. The prudent thing to do would have been to consider her reactions, to try and figure out why the inevitability of Sam bitching her out made her giddy. That would have been the prudent thing to do, which is exactly why Brooke didn't do it. She didn't want to examine what was going on her mind; she didn't want to know why she had started provoking Sam on purpose just so that she could see the other girl's responses. She didn't want to know why arguing with Sam made her body tingle. She just wanted to do it, so she did.
"More brilliant observations from everyone's favorite head-trauma victim," Sam growled out as she watched Brooke through narrow eyes. Brooke watched her with an unwavering stare; in fact Sam was sure that the blonde hadn't even blinked since she had stopped speaking almost a minute ago. She didn't know why, but there was something unnerving, yet fascinating about the way Brooke was watching her. All of the cheerleader's attention seemed to be focused on her; Sam was almost positive that there could have been an explosion outside and Brooke wouldn't have even noticed. She could feel herself flushing under the other girl's scrutiny. "Don't you have a tic-tac to go throw-up?" Sam ground out unthinkingly a moment later, desperate to make Brooke look elsewhere. The moment the words came out of her mouth she regretted them and wished she could reach out her hand and grab them up before they had a chance to reach Brooke's ears, but she couldn't, and seconds after she spoke she saw Brooke's eyes widen and her face fall then freeze up.
Brooke took a step back. She felt like she had just been slapped. She had wanted to see Sam's passion, but that was too much of it. She wanted to act extremely hurt, demand of Sam how she could say something like that knowing what she had gone through with her eating disorder. She wanted to but she couldn't quite work up the levels of hypocrisy necessary to bitch the other girl out about the matter. She had wanted to evoke a response, which meant she didn't have the right to get pissy because the response she got happened to have ripped her heart out.
"Brooke, I…" Sam started to say the moment she saw how Brooke had responded. Brooke was moving away from her, blinking rapidly now, as if trying to make up for her earlier negligence, her blue eyes now gazing at the carpet instead of Sam. Strangely, Sam noted as Brooke wrapped her arms around her lithe form protectively, she realized that she missed having the cheerleader's clear orbs trained on her. She almost felt as if someone had taken away her blanket.
Looking at Brooke, hunched over and small, Sam was over taken by the urge to hug her. To try and wipe away the pain that was so clearly written over Brooke's features but trying not to show. She took a step forward, as if to actualize her musings, but just as quickly as she started forward she stopped again. Brooke was looking at her again, she could feel it, and tilting her head up she saw that she was right. The blonde's eyes seemed a bit watery, but she wasn't crying, she was simply watching — or was it waiting — for Sam's approach. In fact she looked almost expectant. This irritated Sam for some reason, and with the irritation came retrospection. Brooke had started this all, why the hell should she be the one who was apologizing? She shouldn't be was the conclusion she came to. She was the one who should be angry. Hell, she didn't even know how the argument had started in the first place.
"You know what?" Sam asked meeting Brooke's gaze. Brooke merely raised her eyebrow in response. "Screw you!" Sam declared. Brooke looked surprised by the exclamation, her eyes widening perceptively and her mouth opening slightly. This just drove Sam on, she hadn't realized it until a few moments ago, but Brooke had really been bothering her for past couple of weeks. It had started out slowly, almost insidiously; After getting along relatively well for a month or so one day Brooke had finished off the milk and put the empty carton back in the fridge, this led to Sam trying to pour a carton of nothing on her cereal. Sam accused Brooke, Brooke told her to kiss off and they had gotten into their first real fight in quite some time.
After that incident they had had a few more fights, and then a few more fights, and by the time this week had rolled around they seemed to be arguing about things daily. At first, Sam had to admit, she had started most of the arguments as Brooke seemed to have an innate ability to piss her off in the worst way, but as of late Brooke had been the perpetrator in almost all cases, sometimes actually pushing Sam into yelling at her when the brunette was willing to take the high road and walk away from it all.
"What the hell is the matter with you anyway?" Sam shot at Brooke angrily as she worked her way up into a great big soapy lather of indignation.
"Whatever are you talking about?" Brooke responded batting her eyes at Sam innocently, knowing it would irritate the brunette to no end. Sam stared at her in amazement; the goddamn girl had actually batted her eyes. Sam stared at her dumbly for a minute, as she watched Brooke standing there like Shirley fucking Temple, but she didn't feel as annoyed as she had anticipated. Instead, strangely, Sam found herself trying to not to smile. The gesture had actually been cute, Brooke with those bloody doe eyes of hers had actually charmed her, but Sam shook those thoughts out off her head. She had a cheerleader to land blast after all.
"Listen, I don't know what's going on with you," Sam started in a more reasonable tone. "But you've been an absolute horror to live with for the past month, and I'd like it stop. I don't know how to make it stop other than to say, if you need an ear, or shoulder, or whatever, you know where I live," she continued somewhat uncomfortably, "because, and know that it pains me to admit this, I kind of liked it when we were being civil to each other. I kind of like you…you know when you're not acting like a complete asshole," she finished surprising herself with the last part of her little speech. She hadn't meant to say that, but reflecting on it she realized it was true. She and Brooke had spent a lot of time together once moving into the same house, and even if it was grudging at first they had learned a lot about each other, and Sam had thought, come to not merely tolerate each other, but genuinely like each other, somewhat. If Brooke had been anyone but Brooke, Sam would have used the term `friend', maybe even `good friend' to describe her. Living with her day in, day out, seeing her at her worst and — Sam hoped — at her best, Brooke probably knew all of her better than anyone.
"I," Brooke started opening and closing her mouth. "I don't know," she mumbled a moment later. The excitement she had felt earlier was now ebbing away like the retreating tide leaving her feeling rather wiped out. Raising her hand she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear uncomfortably. The fact was that she liked it when they were being civil towards each other too, but she also liked it when they were fighting with each other. It was extremely confusing, even to her. Truthfully, she couldn't answer Sam because she didn't know what was wrong with her, she truly missed hearing Sam rattle on about something or other she had read in the newspaper her voice ringing with excitement and annoyance — especially when she thought Brooke had stopped paying attention to her even though Brooke was always paying attention, just trying to act like she wasn't. But, Brooke considered, when Sam was rattling on she missed feeling those darkly intense, sparkling eyes staring at her, burning into her like a molten poker, like they did when they were arguing.
"You don't know?" Sam asked flatly. After the vicious verbal skills Brooke had demonstrated mere minutes ago, Sam had expected more from the girl than `I don't know'.
Brooke quirked her head to the side and lifted up her shoulders in a lost and helpless gesture. "I … don't know," she repeated finally shrugging again as her eyes skittered around the room helplessly. Finally, however, she focused on Sam again, her eyebrows drawn together with an intense look of consternation, her bottom lip firmly ensnared between her teeth which gnawed on the tender flesh absently. With her brows still drawn together she released her lip and said in a slow, halting voice, "I…would like for us…to get along again…as well," she paused there for a second, then opened her mouth as if to say something else but closed it again without emoting anything.
"If you mean that," Sam responded somewhat disconcerted, yet also disarmed, by Brooke's behavior, "then why are you trying — and succeeding I'll admit — to Melrose Place our every interaction?"
"I'm not," was Brooke's immediate high-pitched response.
"Yes you are," Sam insisted taking a few steps towards the blonde. She had been angry before, and she still was a little bit, but more than that she was intrigued. When Brooke said she didn't know why she was acting the way she was Sam had actually believed her. Shocking, but true. Brooke's argument was weak to be certain, and coming from anyone else at any other time Sam probably wouldn't have believed it. But, standing there in front of her, Brooke had looked even more confused than Sam, and that interested her. She wanted to know what could possibly be going on in Brooke's brain that made what she was doing a mystery even to her.
"Am not," Brooke replied forcefully, though her voice still came out higher than normal. She just couldn't help herself.
"Are too," Sam, responded unable to stop herself from sinking to Brooke's pre-school level as she moved to stand right in front of Brooke. She was all up in the blondes face, and she kind of liked it.
"Am. Not," Brooke replied jutting her head forward antagonizing as she carefully annunciated each word. As their conversation started to thread towards more familiar territory she felt that bubbling in her stomach again, that fluttering excitement. This time however, she paid attention to her response, though she still didn't understand it. She was the kind of person who usually avoided confrontation; it made her uneasy and usually left her upset. The fights that she'd had with Sam before and after the McPherson's first moved in had always left her with a queasy feeling in her stomach and unshed tears burning her eyes. She had hated fighting with Sam, and hated Sam for compelling her to fight back. When they had started to bond with each other, to really get along, Brooke had been understandably relieved. Having the house no longer feel like a war zone had been a welcome change, and in times of distress or worry, Brooke had actually found that it was nice to have Sam around, most of the time. Since she felt the brunette didn't think much of her anyway she was able to be completely honest with her because there was nothing to lose with Sam.
Then they had gotten into that fight about the milk, and Brooke found that in the course of a month her feeling about altercations — at least one's involving Sam — had flopped over completely, and as much as she had loathed fighting before she liked it now. It made her feel close to Sam, and for some reason that was important to her.
"You see! There you go again, turning things into a school yard shoving match," Sam exclaimed poking Brooke in the chest. Frankly, she had half expected the cheerleader to insult her mother. "You know what's wrong with you?" Sam asked a second later as she observed the cheerleader. "You're emotionally handicapped," she stated. "You're a six year who doesn't know how to properly express themselves, so you create an emotional island so you won't have to deal with your sad inability to relate to people on a deeper level."
"Thank you, Sally Jessie," Brooke responded sarcastically, even though she kind of thought Sam had a point. "This weeks show has been brought to you by `I don't give a shit'. Thank you and goodnight," Brooke continued bowing slightly, her gaze challenging Sam to respond to her.
The brunette observed Brooke for a moment, taking in those shimmering blue eyes, and that lithe, secretly tattered body, that sought to provoke her with its every motion. Her chest suddenly felt heavy, she became tired. She didn't want to do this. Fighting with Brooke had been fun when she hadn't liked Brooke, but now that things had changed — more than she would have liked to admit — and she liked Brooke, what was happening saddened her deeply. She might not be able to stop the downward spiral they were on, but she could retire from the stage. She was no longer going to enable whatever was going on, she simply couldn't do it anymore.
"You know what, I'm not going to do this anymore," she said breaking the long silence. "Just cancel my subscription, because I'm over your issues," she continued in a steady voice but with sad eyes. "If you wanna act like some little kid begging for a spanking, fine. It's your therapy bill," she continued feeling like she had just been bitch slapped like nobody's business. With that she stepped away from Brooke and turned around heading for the door. She had no idea what had happened over the last half hour or so; just that she was now tired as hell, more than a little depressed, and she wanted to lie down.
As she walked away, she realized, that it almost felt as if she could feel Brooke slipping away from with every step she took, and she was startled to realize that she had ever felt Brooke with her to begin with. And, as this chasm between them grew out of only God knew what Sam felt the lack of Brooke's friendship — or whatever it was that Brooke had provided her with, for she wasn't exactly sure what it was, only that it was leaving — acutely.
"Sam," Brooke called out just as the brunette reached for the doorknob. "Wait … please," she continued crossing the room. Things couldn't go on like this she knew that, the knowledge of it slammed into chest with the ferocity of a sledge hammer as she watched Sam walk away from her. Whatever was going on with her she wanted to know, she had to know because it was driving something between, and the thought that whatever it was might win terrified her. "I'm sorry. Really," she said stopping halfway to Sam when she saw that the other girl had stopped moving, the door still locked, the knob left unturned. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she exhaled before lifting her face up to look at Sam once more. "The thing is…that I don't know what the thing is," she started in an uncertain voice. "It seems that I'm rather confused at the moment…and have been for a while I guess," she continued slowly, "and I really do want to know why." Her voice cracked, her tone soft, almost broken. "But…I can't do it by myself. That is to say that…"
"Sit down," Sam interjected, interrupting Brooke's speech. Brooke looked at her questioningly, but Sam merely nodded in the direction of the bed obviously meaning for Brooke to sit down. So that's what Brooke did.
After Brooke seated herself, Sam watched her for a second. Her knees were pushed together and her hands were neatly folded in her lap, making her look to the entire world like she was as meek as a rabbit and just as precious. For the second time that afternoon Sam was overcome with the powerful urge to just wrap her arms around Brooke and rock whatever was wrong with her way. And thought the thought surprised her, it didn't alarm her as much as she thought it would.
After a moment's more deliberation Sam crossed the distance over to the bed and sat down beside Brooke. "That can't be comfortable," she commented lightly, shifting her own position so that she was sitting crossed legged in the middle of the bed.
"This is how teacher always made us sit when we had been naughty in school," Brooke responded with a sly sort of grin. Sam quirked her eyebrow at the blonde but didn't say anything. Brooke quickly changed her position so that she too was sitting cross-legged opposite Sam, then once she was settle turned her gaze to Sam expectantly. "What now?" she asked.
"How should I know?" Sam responded.
"You're the one who was issuing the orders," Brooke commented reasonably. "I'm the clueless one remember. Certainly you don't want me leading the whatever it is we're going to do."
"The stupid leading the blind, or the blind leading the stupid," Sam commented. "This is like some screwed up Chinese proverb," she went on shaking her head ruefully.
"I want you to know that I take umbrage to that description," Brooke responded shaking her finger in Sam's direction.
"Which one?" Sam asked mostly to stall for time as she tried to think of something to ask Brooke that would lead them to enlightenment.
"Either one," Brooke responded.
"You're objection has been noted and filed under `Eh'," Sam replied as she shrugged her shoulders. Brooke smirked at her momentarily, her eyes dancing, but as soon as the expression appeared on her face it was gone as the blonde lowered her head.
Brooke tugged on her sock lightly as they sat in silence, her gaze occasionally drifting up to observe Sam before returning to her sock tugging with a renewed vigor. She could feel Sam's eyes on her, watching her, but she didn't mind it like she thought she would, she actually found it comforting. She felt almost protected by it.
"You don't think you're pregnant again do you?" Sam asked suddenly.
"That's not a possibility," Brooke responded looking up at Sam with a smile. The brunette smirked back at her and for a moment they sat there staring at each other with matching grins. After a moment or two however, when the prolonged eye contact became uncomfortable, Sam looked away, turning her head to look out the window hoping that the break would allow her time to get her suddenly erratic breathing under control. Brooke, on the other hand, continued to watch Sam after the brunette had turned her head. At first she had thought she was just observing her, but soon she realized that she was studying Sam's body: the way she stuck in tongue into her check, the graceful lines of her neck, her elegant and slender shoulders, the gentle curve of her waist. She realized she was trying to take all of Sam in, memorize her. But why?
"Brooke?" Sam asked. The blonde blinked, jerking her head back with a disoriented look on her face as she looked over at Sam. Sam's face was slightly flushed colouring her chest a tender shade of pink, which drew Brooke's attention to the `V' of Sam's shirt where it stayed concentrated for longer than could be considered polite. "Brooke?" Sam asked again shifting under the blonde's gaze. Maddeningly, she felt herself grow even more flustered by Brooke's concentrated look—or was it by the fact that she found herself enjoying Brooke's concentrated look? She wasn't sure.
"Sorry," Brooke said snapping herself out of whatever fog had momentarily enveloped her. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," Sam responded relieved and disappointed at Brooke's now mild expression. "I was going to ask you," she started then stopped. She couldn't remember what she was going to ask her. "I was going to ask you…" she repeated, stalling for all that she was worth, "have you been fighting with everyone lately, or just me?" she finally decided on. She wasn't sure if that had been her original question, but it seemed like a good one.
Brooke was silent for a moment her attention returning to severely abused socks before looking over at Sam somewhat sadly. "Just you," she responded in a somewhat guilty tone.
"Oh," Sam replied at a bit of a loss. That wasn't what she had wanted to hear. In all honesty it upset her to some extent. Whatever was bothering Brooke had to do with her. If Brooke had been fighting with everyone, that would have meant that it was a general problem, but this, this meant that whatever it was was solely about their relationship with each other.
"I don't think," Brooke started seeing Sam's somewhat crestfallen expression, "I mean, it's me, you know? Something's just wrong with me…you shouldn't take it personally," she continued trying to take some of the sting out of what she had said. That, and she also happened to believe what she was saying. Sam hadn't done anything to upset her, just the opposite in fact, she felt closer to the other girl lately than ever before, it just seemed to be manifesting itself in strange way that was making her act like a jerk.
"It obviously has something to do with me," Sam responded in what she hoped was a light tone. "Did I do something to…"
"No. I mean, I'll never put an empty milk carton in the fridge again, but…it's just this feeling I get. I don't know why, but lately…lately it's like I have to fight with you. Have to," Brooke responded stressing the word `have' as she interrupted Sam's question.
"You said it's this feeling you get," Sam replied not quite sure how to interrupt what Brooke had just told her. "What feeling? What do you mean?"
Brooke sighed and raised her hand up to her face anxiously, rubbing at her eye with the ball of her hand. "It's strong," she said finally as she thought about all of the things she felt before and during an argument. She shook her head again. "It makes no sense."
"What makes no sense?" Sam asked. She was still only getting fragments, she needed more.
"The feeling," Brooke responded somewhat flustered as thoughts continued to stream through her head. "It's like we'll just be doing whatever you know, getting along fine and stuff, and I'll just look over at you and …" she trailed off here, her eyes losing focus as she retreated into her own head.
"And what?" Sam asked unconsciously leaning towards Brooke, her elbows resting on her knees.
"And I just…I just HAVE to piss you off," Brooke responded, her voice as bewildered as her expression. "I told you it makes no sense. I'm never mad at you, or even irritated or anything, it's just like one moment everything is fine and then I feel this, this thing inside of me, and I just need to make you mad." `I need to see it', she added to herself mentally as she stopped speaking.
Sam was silent after Brooke finished speaking, remaining in the same position she had occupied before the revelation only with her eyes now facing down. What the hell did it mean? Brooke felt the need to piss her off; Sam didn't even know where to begin with that one. She tried to consider it reasonably, but she didn't really understand what she was being asked to consider. If Brooke kept doing it, it meant that she had to be getting something out of it, but what? What could possibly be the reason?
"I told you, it doesn't make sense. It's not you. I'm just cracking up," Brooke continued when Sam neglected to respond to her previous statements. Despite her words however, Brooke could feel the beginnings of an idea tickling the back of her brain, screaming to be fully realized, to be heard. But she was scared, she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what they had to say, in fact she was fairly certain that it wouldn't be anything she wanted anyway.
"What do you feel? When we're arguing I mean," Sam asked looking over a Brooke intently.
Brooke stared at her for a moment, then looked away uncomfortably. Sam watched as Brooke turned away from her, turned to stare at some distant spot on the other side of the room. From her vantage point she could see that Brooke was blinking more than was usual, as least she assumed it was more that usual because she was able to detect it, and that her bottom lip was once again ensnared between her teeth. One of the blonde's feet was moving up and down giggling her body, and her left hand was constantly moving as if it was tucking away a stray strand of hair, only none of Brooke's hair was astray. Brooke was nervous Sam realized, really nervous. The question she asked, that's where the heart of the matter was. All she had to do was get an answer to that question.
"What do you feel Brooke?" she asked again leaning forward a bit more. Brooke still didn't respond to her. Sam sighed and considered her options, she could just walk away but that wouldn't solve anything. It was clear to her that Brooke wanted to end this situation between them as much as she did, so that meant that she had to keep trying until she got through. Persistence was one of her virtues wasn't it?
Sam shifted her position so that she was kneeling on the bed and leaned even closer to Brooke. "What do you feel?" she asked again.
Brooke turned her head this time something in Sam's tone or proximity forcing her to face the girl. However, she didn't realize how close to her Sam actually was and when she turned it startled both of them throwing Sam off balance which led the brunette to fall towards Brooke knocking into her which tipped them both over leaving Brooke lying flat on her back and Sam semi-straddling Brooke's body which was now beneath her.
"What do you feel?" Sam breathed out again in this position, unable to stop herself from asking it even though she knew she should probably have been extracting herself from Brooke's body instead of questioning her.
Brooke's eyes fluttered shut momentarily as she felt Sam's warm breath against her face as the brunette whispered to her. She could feel her temperature rising as she became aware of the weight of Sam's body against hers, the warmth of her thighs which were pressed against Brooke's sides holding her in place, the snug way Sam's body fit against Brooke's hip. Brooke felt a familiar fluttering in her stomach, only this time it was ten times stronger. Her body was screaming with energy, her head swimming. Her lips parted imperceptivity and her eyes fluttered to Sam's face, which was only inches away from hers. The brunette's attention was locked on her and Brooke knew that Sam was carefully observing her, but she couldn't stop her eyes from wondering down to Sam's lips, red, wet and luscious. Her breath hitched. And, it didn't stop Brooke's eyes from then wondering even further to the porcelain plains of Sam's neck and then further still to the now visible swell of Sam's breasts, which were rising and falling gently, seductively with each breath she took.
"This," Brooke barely breathed out thunderstruck. Her head was spinning and her body, well, that wasn't co-operating with her either. All she could think about was how she wanted to feel more of Sam against her. How more than anything in the world, more than oxygen, more that sunlight, she wanted to touch Sam, to feel her everywhere. She wanted her, Brooke wanted Sam in the worst way imaginable, and she realized that she had wanted her for a while. She wasn't fighting with Sam out of anger; it was out of sexual frustration, because it was the only way she had known up until then to see Sam's passion.
"What?" Sam asked softly. She could see, and feel Brooke's eyes roaming over her, almost leering at her. She could see Brooke's eyes gradually change colour; they became darker and richer, and as Sam watched Brooke she felt her own heart rate increase in time with the blondes.
"I feel this," Brooke responded, her eyes once against locked on Sam's lips. As she spoke she realized that her hand was now resting at the side of Sam's face, her thumb gently stroking the soft skin of Sam's cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered a second later knowing without a doubt that she was going to kiss Sam very, very soon.
"For wh…" Sam started to say, but the feel of Brooke's lips pressing against hers, moving against hers tenderly yet invitingly silenced her. She felt surprise, and alarm, she was sure of that, she remembered feeling them distinctly, but as soon as they appeared they retreated, leaving something warm in their wake. She felt herself lean in, increasing the contact between their lips, and then the contact between their bodies as Brooke's tongue traced her bottom lip sucking on it sweetly before Sam's mouth opened inviting Brooke in.
The increased strength of their kiss caused Brooke to fall back against the mattress, her back no longer able to hold out as she leaned up to kiss Sam, the contact between their mouths breaking momentarily as Brooke fell back. However, almost as soon as she was settled against the mattress Sam's mouth descended upon hers capturing the cheerleaders lips hungrily as her hand made its way behind Brooke's neck and Brooke's hand snaked it's way up Sam's side tangling in her dark tresses.
"Brooke," Sam said softly, finally managing to tear herself away from the blondes tantalizing lips and body. Looking down she saw that Brooke's lips were redder than usual, and slightly swollen. Idly, she wondered how long they had been kissing for, it could easily have been seconds or minutes or hours.
"Um hmmm," Brooke responded, her mumble coming out sounding dreamy as she stared up into Sam's beautiful brown eyes. If this was dream, she didn't want to wake up.
"Do you know why you were fighting with me now?" Sam asked, her lips twitching into a playful smile.
"It means I like you," Brooke responded in a like tone as she raised her hand to Sam's face, gazing at her reverently. "You know, in my emotionally handicapped way," she added with a smile as her other hand started to trail along Sam's ribcage, gently exploring.
"I think," Sam started leaning into Brooke's touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a second, "that we've found a more productive way for you to express these emotions now," she continued before turning her head to the side placing a kiss on the tip of Brooke's thumb before sucking the digit into her mouth.
As Sam's mouth enveloped her thumb, Brooke's mouth opened a tiny whimper coming out of her as she involuntarily arched up towards Sam. "Sam," she said gravely when she had regained the ability to speak. "I'm getting that feeling again," she continued as her finger slid out of Sam's mouth with a `pop'.
"See," Sam said leaning down briefly brushing her lips against Brooke's. "I knew I should've taken it personally."
"Sammy," Brooke breathed out, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Shut up and kiss me." And that's just what she did…for hours…and then a couple of times for good luck.