Wednesday 12:18 a.m.  The farm, downstairs study

Russell finished off his drink in one swallow and gently took Sam's from her fingers before he set both their glasses aside.  Without the glass to occupy her hands and to stare at when looking at him became uncomfortable, Samantha dropped her eyes to the floor. 

Russell would have none of it.  He touched her chin lightly, bringing her eyes back up to his.  "No hiding."  

Samantha blinked once and this time when their eyes met, hers were clear and strong.  She nodded her agreement.  "No hiding."

"I'm probably going to scare you a little so be prepared, okay?"  He waited for her to nod again before continuing.  "I'm done pissing around pretending I'm not attracted to you.  I am.  You know I am.  You move me on more levels than I have words to describe and frankly, if that doesn't scare the piss out of you, it should."  He paused, smiling a little at her stunned expression.  "Am I correct in assuming this attraction is mutual?  Because if it's not, there's no reason to continue this conversation."

Samantha's heart was slamming in her chest and she felt like someone had sucked all the air out of the room, but she answer him--without the sugar coating.  "You're correct.  I didn't want to be attracted to you.  I tried not to be.  But I am, and on more levels than I'm comfortable with."  Her voice wavered, but her gaze did not.  

He nodded, pleased by her answer.  If this went the way he hoped, things were going to get pretty heavy pretty fast, but there was something he wanted to know, first.  "Have you thought about me, love?"  His fingers found her arm.  "I've thought about you."  He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb.  "I've thought of you in my shower.  In my bed.  In a hundred thousand other places."  Something dark and wild burned in his eyes.  "Do you think about me that way?"

Samantha blushed to the roots of her hair and when she spoke, her voice was very small.  "Yes."

"Tell me.  I want to hear you say it."

"Please-"

Russell shook his head.  "No hiding.  No bullshit."  His voice grew lower, huskier.  "Take a risk, love."

"I- I thought of you... the first night."  

The first night?  Now that he hadn't been expecting.  "Yes, more..."

"I thought of you in your red chair and wondered if you'd ever..."

"If I'd ever....?"  He could see she was struggling and took a little pity on her.  Just a little.  "Do you want to know if I've ever made love in that chair?"

"Yes."

"No, I haven't."  He chuckled quietly.  "I bought it with that in mind, though.  Things just never quite worked out that way."  Although not for lack of trying, he added silently.  Russell was suddenly serious again.  "Is that the only place you thought of me?"

"No, it's not."  Samantha was recovering a little of her composure.  "As I'm sure you well know."

"Don't be coy."

Her eyes blazed with a fire all their own.  "What do you want to hear?  That I've imagined you taking me in every way a man can take a woman?  That I dream of you?  That I ache for you?  I have.  I do."  Her words slowed and softened.  "You're never far from my thoughts, Russell.  Never."

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm gently.  "Good."  Although the desire to kiss her was nearly overwhelming, Russell held off, knowing once he started he wouldn't want to stop and they had more they needed to discuss.  He might not have kissed her, but he didn't let go of her hand.  Instead, he twined his fingers with hers and rested them on his thigh.  "Scared yet?"

"Terrified."

He smiled.  "Me too."  He squeezed her hand softly.  "Ready for the next bit?"  He watched her take a deep breath and nod.  "Good girl."  He wet his lips.  "You've been here about seven weeks now, haven't you?  So that leaves about five more before you go back to America, right?"

"Yes, that's right."  A part of her couldn't help but be pleased he was following her schedule so closely.

"That's not much time, Sam.  And it gets worse.  I have professional commitments coming up.  A week in L.A. and maybe half that in New York.  That's going to cut down on what time we have left."

"Three weeks then."

"Three weeks."  He sighed.  "That's not much time to give this... whatever-it-is a shot."  He met her eyes.  "You have to understand, I've spent more time here in the last few weeks than I have in the last few years combined.  My life is..."  He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.  "It's kind of like one giant roller coaster... and this time I've had here, it's like the time they stop the cars to do maintenance.  In just a few weeks, they're gonna flip the switch-- and baby, when everything starts back up again, it's gonna be wilder and faster than ever before, you know?"  Russell shot her a glance.  She had an odd look on her face.  "Why the smile, love?"

"I like roller coasters," she admitted.  "Especially the ones that throw you for a loop and make you lose your stomach.  The kind that by the time you start thinking maybe strapping yourself in wasn't such a good idea, you're already back at the beginning, exhilarated and ready to go again."

Russell chuckled.  "Welcome to my life."  His amusement waned.  "So, knowing that, knowing what you know of me and how my life is, the question is are you willing to give things a go?"

"Maybe you should hear what I have to say first and then you can decide if you still want to ask me that question."

He nodded curtly, somehow not surprised she didn't just jump all over that offer.  For a free spirited artist, she was charmingly pragmatic.  "Shoot."

"The thought of living my life in the public eye scares me.  The thought of losing my privacy terrifies me.  I don't want to be lunchroom gossip.  I don't want the world to know every time we have a fight.  I hate having my picture taken.  I blush when I'm the center of anything..."  Sam sighed.  "I think given enough time, I might learn to tolerate those things, but I've never been one for the limelight, Russell, and I don't see that changing."

"But you are willing to at least make the effort?"  He persisted.  

"Yes."

"What about the traveling?  I'm the king of frequent flyers, love.  Can you deal with that?"

"That depends on if I can travel with you."

"You'd actually want to do that?"  Russell was utterly floored.  The best offer he'd ever had, the fucking BEST offer had been a few visits when he was on location and the occasional trip with him when it was someplace she'd been interested in going.  Nobody had ever offered to simply go with him... like he was important enough to warrant something more than an 'I'll be waiting when you get home, honey.'  "You'd actually follow some man around the world?"  The disbelief in his voice was clearly evident.  

"No, I wouldn't want to 'follow' anyone.  I'd want to travel with you.  To spend time together when we could and to do my own thing when we couldn't."  She didn't need him to entertain her.  She was a big girl.  Samantha shrugged.  "Sort of a package deal, I guess.  You know, go where you go.  Sleep where you sleep."

To his surprise, Russell felt eyes grow wet.  "What a gift you are, Sam."  He kissed her fingers gently.

Her eyes were soft when she looked at him.  "There's more I need to say."  She paused.  "There's more you need to know.  I think it's going to be hard to say, but probably harder to hear."

"All right."  

"I'm not... I don't..."  She took a minute to gather herself.  "Look.  I don't do this.  I don't.  Not ever."  She looked down at her hands.  Like a lot of girls from small farming communities in the Midwest, she'd naively married her high school sweetheart.  It had not ended well.  "I've only been with one man... and I married him first."  Samantha could feel Russell tense up next to her as she made a mess of blurting that out.  Though she knew it sounded worse than it really was.  She hadn't exactly been a nun.  There had been a few men, mostly sophisticated older men that she'd considered taking as a lover after her divorce, but none of them had ever moved her heart.  Not like she needed them to.  "Before you freak out on me, I'm not saying I need that kind of commitment before I'd be intimate with you... I mean, I did everything right, everything by the book the first time around, and look how that turned out...."  She was thirty and utterly alone in the world. 

Russell sucked in a deep breath as her words sunk in.  He remembered reading in the file Mark had on her that she'd been married once but he'd had no idea that man had been the ONLY one.  Ever.  It was almost more than he could wrap his mind around.  Celibacy in a time when most people, himself included, hardly batted an eye at the idea of casual sex?  And it was a world away from his chosen profession were people bartered their bodies for movie roles and women threw themselves at him everywhere he went.  Christ, he didn't even know how many partners he'd had.  Especially those early years.  In the last few years he'd had only a handful of lovers but he still found Sam's admission shocking.  And to be honest, women who refused to have sex before someone put a ring on their finger always seemed a little manipulative to him.  While he understood that wasn't always the case, the idea of a woman withholding sex to get what she wanted had always rubbed him the wrong way.  "So what does that mean for us, Sam?"  His voice was cautious. 

"It means I want that intimacy with you, but it just isn't in me to give my body without giving my whole heart too.  I don't know if three weeks is enough time for that kind of trust."  She didn't say especially for someone with his track record, but he understood it nonetheless.  "It's too fast.  And what's worse, I think if you're still willing to give this a go after hearing all that, you're going to have help me out a little there because I honestly don't know if I can tell you 'no'."

He started to smile, thinking she was teasing.  It sounded like a line from a movie.  A bad one.  Christ, nobody could say that and actually mean it, could they?  But when he realized she was serious, he was momentarily struck dumb.  How could someone so sophisticated and world traveled be so bloody naive?  It was unbelievable.  He took a deep breath.  "We promised each other no bullshit, so I think you should know I'm not sure if I can do that."  At her stricken look, he added. "I'm still willing to give it a go if you are, love.  I'm just not sure how dependable I'd be to stop things if you need me to."  He slid her hand up to cover his erection.  "This is what you do to me and I'm not going to apologize for it or pretend it doesn't exist." 

He was hard under her palm and Samantha could feel the heat of him, even through the thick denim.  Her mouth actually watered and she drew in a sharp breath as he held her hand to him a moment longer and then raised it to his lips, kissing her palm before turning his face into her touch.  His beard was soft and tickly against her skin and when she stroked his cheek, he groaned in appreciation for the gentle touch.

"God, what you do to me."  He gave her a lopsided smile.  "But I need to scare you a little more now, okay?"  He neither had the time nor the inclination to lose his heart to another woman before she had all the facts.

"Okay."

"Even when things are good, there are times I can't help but bring my day job home with me."

'That's o-"

"I don't think you understand.  It's not just my appearance.  Fat, thin, beard, no beard, ponytails... tattoos..."  He was holding her eyes earnestly now.  "I don't even recognize myself half the fucking time."  He gave her hand a squeeze.  "It's not just that though.  Sometimes I bring the character home too, love.  You never know who might be in your bed at night."  Russell looked away.  "And not all of them are pleasant."  He waited to see how she'd take that.

"It's still you driving the train though, isn't it?"  When he nodded, she went on.  "So that's really not the issue here, is it?"

"No."  His heart was beating too quickly in his chest.  Sometimes she saw him much too clearly for comfort.  

"It bothers you doesn't it?  That the person you come home to at night would be so accepting of someone who's not the 'you' that you are in your own head.  Not the man you are when you're not working."

"Sometimes," he admitted.  "It's fucked up, I know.  Sometimes I can't stand that I'm so easily replaced-- that they don't mind if 'Russ' is replaced by 'Hando' or 'Maximus' or 'Terry' or any number of other blokes I could be on any given day... but at the same time, sometimes I get off on delving into that other man and seeing how he might be with a woman."  It didn't happen a lot.  Sex wasn't the be all and end all of anyone's existence.  It was simply another facet to the character.  Part of his process of discovery.  Another layer that made them more real to him... and he knew the camera saw that.  So did the audience.      

Russell sighed.  He'd never liked that he did that-- used sex with a woman as a way of making a character more rounded, more real to him.  He always tried to treat women with respect, and even if the 'character' did in his head while he was making love, there was still something ugly about it.  "I didn't say it made sense," he offered when the silence stretched out for a long minute.

"I don't know what you want me to say to that."

"Mostly, I guess I just wanted to know if you could deal with it.  It's not just me in your bed, love, it's me and every character I've ever been and ever will be.  For someone who's only had one lover, that might be a bit... much."  Understatement. 

"Do you want the truth, or do you want me to spin you some pretty words that will make you feel better?"

"I want the fucking truth.  We don't have time for games."

Sam nodded.  "The truth is, the thought of being with all those different men excites me, but only because it's you driving the train.  They're all shades of you, whether you like that or not, and I won't welcome them to my bed only to have 'Russ' condemn me for it the morning after.  That's not fair to either of us."

Russell could tell from the heat in her words that he'd opened a huge can of worms with this one.  "Sam-"

"I'm serious, Russell.  It's got to be all or nothing.  I can't give you any middle ground on this.  I can't.  I'll respond to you no matter who you happen to have in your head when you come to me because it gives me a chance to explore different parts of myself as well, but if you ever make me feel sorry for doing that or ashamed for responding to you, it's going to kill something in me you won't ever be able to get back."  The resulting silence in the wake of her impassioned words was thick and heavy.  

There was something here he was missing...  And then it all clicked into place.  "That's what happened before, isn't it?  He made you ashamed," he asked softly.  That's what had ended her marriage. 

Samantha nodded.  "I can put up with a lot of things.  I can even deal with the loss of my privacy, but if you make me ashamed for wanting you or if you cheat on me, I'm gone.  Life is too short to hurt like that again."

"I understand."  His gaze heated.  "You realize the sex is going to be intense.  All or nothing, Sam.  If you tell me not to hold anything back, I won't."  Samantha shivered all the way down to her womb.  "Can you handle that?"

"Can you?"  She tossed back.

"Fuck, yes."  He grinned.  

"Me too."

His face grew serious once more.  "I can be faithful, Samantha.  I don't want you to worry about that, but the tabloids-"

"I've never read that crap and I wouldn't start now.  When I mentioned cheating, I was talking about real life, not fiction."

Russell chuckled.  "Glad to hear it.  But there's no getting around my day job.  There are going to be love scenes.  I'm going to be putting my mouth and hands on women who are not you."  He saw her wince and wished he hadn't said that quite so clumsily. 

Sam looked away.  "I know the love scenes aren't any more real than the rest of the film.  It's all a part of the same show.  An onscreen kiss isn't any more real than an onscreen swordfight or a dramatic onscreen death, right?"

"Right."  He couldn't believe it was this easy.  It was never this easy.  Not with someone outside the Business.  

"I also understand from what you've told me about your day job, that you foster very close relationships with your co-stars because that familiarity translates to the screen, right?  So some part of you really does feel something or it wouldn't be believable to the audience."

"Right."  Fuck.  FUCK!  He knew he'd gotten off too easily.  

"So you can't say you feel nothing."

He hesitated.  "That's true.  But it's a very contrived thing.  The trick is making it look like it's not."  He paused.  "Something I've been told I'm rather good at."  A little of his ego bled through.  "But it IS an act.  When I make love to a woman, it's something intimate I share with her and her alone."  A couple of memories of threesomes flashed in his head and he shook them away.  That was sex, not love.  "It sure as fuck isn't something I do in a room full of people with my dick taped to my leg while some bloody hoon powders a blemish on my arse and some other bloke yells 'cut' every two minutes."  His smile faded.  "It's simply a part of my job, love.  That's it.  And that's all." 

She was silent a long time.  "I understand.  I don't like it, but I understand it.  And God knows, I could never be one of those..." she hesitated, not wanting to use the word 'wives.' "...one of those people who could ever be comfortable on a set watching the person they cared about touch someone else.  I'm just not built that way."

Russell grinned.  "I wouldn't want my wife watching that either."  Apparently, he had no such inhibitions about using that particular word.  His smile got bigger.  They'd just covered all the conversations it usually took him about three months to get to.  "Still scared?"

"Absolutely.  Through the loops, lost my stomach and my head is spinning like you wouldn't believe."

He moved closer to her and slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his large frame. "Are you ready for me to start the ride again, love?"  At her wide-eyed nod, Russell put her arms around his neck and met her eyes.  "Hang on tight."  He threaded his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth to his.  Her lips were soft and warm and he could feel her smile against his mouth.  "What?"  He breathed softly as they slipped to the floor and he rolled her under him.

"I've never kissed a man with a beard before," she whispered against his lips, surprised by they way his beard was both soft and rough at the same time and by the way his mouth felt in contrast to it.     

Russell smiled back until she whimpered softly and arched, rubbing gently against him.  Her lips parted under his and he sank his tongue into her with a low groan.  Her hands tightened in his hair as he claimed her mouth.  His leg slid between hers and his hand found her hip, pulling her into him as he used his thigh to put a gentle pressure against her pubic bone.  As he varied the pressure rhythmically, she made these soft noises deep in her throat that drove him wild.  Her tongue was tentative at first and then more bold, teasing against his, tasting him, inviting him into her mouth.  He deepened the kiss and she suckled his tongue, drawing a raw growl from him.

He wanted more.  He slid over a little more until both his legs were between hers and settled himself in the cradle of her hips.  His erection throbbed between them and he wiggled a little until he had the fit just right, so that when he rocked against her, they both saw stars. 

Señor Alvarez was right.  The sensual way she'd touched the tools of her trade was very indicative of the way she touched a man.  And he couldn't get enough of it, of her.  She tasted like warm, willing woman and smoky-sweet bourbon...  Fuck, the bourbon.  He knew he needed to stop this before it went too far.  She wasn't drunk, but he was uncomfortable taking things too far too fast with her, especially considering the bourbon had been his idea.  The honest truth was that sometimes he liked rowdy, drunken, out of control sex that had a harder, raunchier edge... but this was neither the time nor the place.  He stilled his hips and lifted his mouth from hers.

"Russ... Russ, please..."  Her fingers clutched at him harder, pulling him closer.  

God, hearing that sweet little voice of hers beg for him like that was just too much.  With a rough grind of his hips, he caught her lower lip in his teeth and sucked hard, releasing it and tightening his fist in her hair to bare her neck to him.  His mouth trailed wetly across her cheek and down the side of her throat, nipping and sucking, rough and wild at first and then more softly, more gently until he was simply nuzzling her neck.  She smelled incredible.  He wanted nothing more than to take her to his bed, but this was the best shot at happiness he'd had in a long, long time and while he was able to wait, he would.  Russell was certain there would be plenty of other occasions where he wouldn't be able to stop.  He kissed her lips once more, sweetly, softly, and tucked her head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her.

Sam's voice was shaky and she was trembling against his broad chest.  "Wow."

He chuckled.  "So, shall we give this a go, love?  Three weeks here at the farm is like a year in some ways for me.  I want it to be like it was before between us; talking and mucking about," he grinned and then grew somber once more.  "I want to try and see if maybe in all of that, we can't find something deeper as well, something that could last a lifetime."  His voice dropped.  "And I want to kiss you and touch you."  She blushed.  "And I want you to kiss and touch me." 

And then his voice dropped again, to that place he knew made her shiver.  "And I want to hear you cry my name when I make you come."  She gasped softly, but he just smiled.  He was done hiding what he wanted from her.  "I think we've a real shot here, Sam, and I don't think we're given many of those in life.  I don't want to waste it.  And I don't want you to either."  He kissed her softly.  "Just tell me this is one risk you think is worth taking." 

Samantha could feel his heart beating strong and steady in his chest.  "It is."  She nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in.  He smelled of smoke and desire and man.  "Please, please don't break my heart, Russ," she whispered. 

He held her a little tighter.  "I'll do my best not to."  He stroked her hair gently.  "And have a care with mine too, all right?  It's taken a bit of a beating these the last few years.  You're not the only one afraid of being hurt again."

She whispered his words back at him.  "I'll do my best not to."

Russell smiled against her hair.  "Well, that's all a man can ask, love."  He was quiet for a while, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, but eventually reality intruded again.  "You know, we're going to need to tell my family.  I'm not going to hide this and I bloody well don't want an earbashing for having a bit of a pash if I've a mind."

"A what?"  

He giggled.  "A bit of a kiss and a cuddle.   You know, that bit where I put my tongue in your mouth and feel you up a little."

Sam blushed and pinched him lightly.  "You're impossible."  She snuggled into him a little tighter and wondered what his family would think.  Samantha was torn.  On one hand, she owed her employer the truth, especially after she'd sat in their kitchen and expressly told Mark this wasn't going to happen.  On the other hand, there was a good chance they'd give it a shot and it wouldn't work out and then they'd have caused a large upheaval over nothing.  Still, he was right.  They needed to tell his family.  She didn't want to hide anything from them either.  "When do you want to tell them?" 

Russell pinched her back.  "And here I was thinking you were lost in thoughts of my tongue in your mouth while I felt you up," he teased, but he could tell she was worried about what his family would think.  "I'll tell them tomorrow over breakfast."

"You mean we'll tell them tomorrow... unless, of course, you're having that 'pash' by yourself?"

He was pleased she wanted to share their news together.  "Is this part of that 'package deal' you mentioned?  Because if it is, I like it."  He didn't want a passive partner.  He wanted someone who stood strong by his side in all things. 

"It is."  She pressed a soft kiss just above his heart.  "But I think you should be the one to actually tell them.  They're your family."  She laughed a little.  "And you are kind of driving this train so that responsibility belongs to you."

Russell chuckled.  "I think about a million feminists just rolled over in their graves, love."  He might have made a joke, but he was pleased she felt that way.  If a man couldn't be trusted to lead his family, what good was he? 

Samantha snickered.  "Well, don't get too smug, Crowe.  If I think your driving sucks, I'll be sure to let you know."

His chuckles dissolved into giggles and he tightened his arms around her.  "I wouldn't have it any other way, love.  Not any other way."