Read Restored (The Walsh Series Book 5) for Free Online Page B

man.
    "Get over here," Sam said, his arms spread wide. "And lose the shirt."
    "What happened to my tits looking amazing in this shirt?" I crawled toward him. "Besides, I'm not letting you have any boob action until we discuss some stuff."
    He drew the blankets over us and tugged me closer. This was my favorite spot in the world, right here with his body warm against mine. I could surrender everything to Sam, and I'd always feel safe and strong and cherished.
    "'Letting you'? It's really precious when you try to take the lead," he said.
    His lips dropped to my neck, and oh yes, my body was more interested in this than any of the knots in my mind. I shivered, and wrapped my hand around his forearm.
    "Are you trying to distract me?" I asked.
    "Nope," he said. The word vibrated against my neck, and it rippled through my body.
    I was on the verge of annoyed, but then his fingertips started working my back and shoulders, and I realized where this was going. He was softening me up. He knew I was tense, and he was helping me get the words out.
    If this was what our forever was going to feel like—ass grabbing and diabetes management, understanding each other beyond words and going to bed before eleven o'clock simply because we liked holding each other—there was no reason for my panic. Relieved tears filled my eyes, and I burrowed further into his arms.
    I knew how to love Sam. He was mine, and I didn't need any vintage inadequacy getting in the way.
    "I have some conditions," I said. I traced the fishhook tattoo on Sam's upper arm. "But I think…I think we should visit my family in New Jersey for the holiday."
    "Tell me more," Sam said, his words muffled as he spoke into my hair. "Walk me through this. I want to hear what you're thinking, and your conditions."
    "Remember when I went home for Christmas last year?"
    "Vividly," Sam said.
    "Then you remember how I wanted to leave because it was awful," I said, and he nodded. "And I told you the next time I was going to Jersey, you were coming with me."
    "I admire your follow-through here, but I'm hoping you have another reason lined up," he said.
    "I always hated helping out at my family's restaurant. It was a chore that I dreaded, and to me, it was a punishment. A long, boring loop of chopping vegetables, stacking plates, filling baskets of pita bread." I stared at the fishhook and exhaled. "I was the only one who felt that way. My sister, my cousins, they loved being at the restaurant. They knew they belonged there, but it wasn't like that for me."
    Sam didn't say anything while I paused, but his hands continued rubbing and pressing along my spine.
    "There were a lot of events at the restaurant. Parties, celebrations, feasts. Sometimes I performed traditional Greek songs. Everyone loved it, and playing in front of crowds from such a young age is probably why I never dealt with stage fright. See? There's the silver lining. Remind me of that later."
    "Done," Sam said.
    "I played at an event one night, and it was so great. I performed well, the music sounded good, the people enjoyed it…I was floating ten feet off the ground. It was one of the first moments when I felt like I belonged."
    My finger brushed the tattoo above Sam's heart, the new sunburst one with my name woven into the shape.
    "You know when you're young, and you overhear adults talking about things you don't understand? I was always listening to my family while I worked, and I never thought much about it. But that night, I remember walking down the hallway to the back office after I performed, and stopping before I got to the door. My mom was crying, and telling my aunt that she didn't understand why I was such a difficult kid. Why was I hyperactive? Why did I hate Greek school and church groups? Why couldn't I like the same things as my cousins? Why did I always have to be different? Why couldn't I be more like Agapi? Why was I only willing to come to the restaurant if it was to play that screechy violin?"
    Sam held me