Her Immortal Love (9 page)

“And you’ll still be beautiful. If not more.”

Easy for him to say. He was still young and a man. Men were giving carte blanche to age, whether gracefully or not.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“How old do you think I am?”

She shrugged. “Twenty-five? Twenty-six? Certainly no older than twenty-nine.”

He kissed her fingers. “How old I am or how old you are doesn't change what I said. You are beautiful. Trust me on that.”

She sighed. Trust was not something she could easily give. She had trusted Douglas and look what it had gotten her. The shame of not only losing her husband to a younger woman, but having also to deal with the fact his new wife was giving him what she had been unable to during all their years of marriage.

A baby.

“I know it's hard for you to trust, Lydia.” Tristan said as he stroked her hair.

She started. Was he a mind reader in addition to being an incredible lover?

He laughed at the expression on her face. “No, I didn’t read your mind. But anyone who’s been betrayed as you were would justifiably find it difficult to trust again.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to trust. I’m just scared of being hurt again.”

Tristan smiled and slid his knuckles along her cheek. “I know. So, in light of your quite understandable fears, I would like to make a suggestion.”

“A suggestion? What kind of suggestion?”

He slowly rubbed her nipple and grinned. “What kind do you think?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Well, after what we spent all night doing, I would imagine it has to do with sex?”

“Yes, it does.” He lowered his head to her breast and slowly licked her nipple. “But what we did last night was just the tip of the iceberg.”

She didn’t have a problem with that. The last thing she was looking to do was fall in love. Saffron seemed to enjoy just having sex with the younger man she dated. No strings, no attachments, no complications. Just pure, sweaty, hot sex. Her body warmed as Tristan softly sucked her breast.

“What do you mean?” she gasped, her body shivering deliciously.

Tristan lifted his head from her breast. “I want to give you more.”

“More? But you gave me so much last night.”

Eleven sizzling, mind-blowing, out-of-this-world orgasms
.

He gave her a wide smile, which caused those deep, sexy dimples to appear at the sides of his mouth. He took a strand of her hair and curled it around a finger. “I want to take you on an adventure. An odyssey, if you will.”

“Odyssey?”

He nodded. “Like the one Odysseus took as he made his way back to Ithaca following the end of the Trojan War. You’re familiar with the story?”

She nodded. “But I still don’t understand.”

“You’re a very passionate woman. And I’ve not experienced such pleasure in a very long time.”

She stared at him. A very long time? He talked as if he were decades older. He was only in his twenties.

“Really?” she said.

He nodded. “I want to return the favor. I want to help you fulfill any sexual fantasies you may have.”

“Sexual fantasies? Why?”

“You do have them?”

She shrugged, her cheeks burning as she thought about the sexual fantasies she’d had about him. “Yes, or course I do, but….”

“But you’ve never thought of making them real?’

“No, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

Lydia sputtered. “Because they’re only fantasies. They’re not meant to be real.”

“Tell me one of them.”

She nervously laughed. “What? Now?”

“Yes, now.” He looked down at their entwined bodies. “Seems as good a time as any, don’t you think?”

“But…I can’t.”

A smile curled about his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed. Here you are, naked in my arms after a night of fucking and you’re too embarrassed to tell me what you fantasize about sexually?”

“It’s not that,” she countered.

“Then what?”

“They’re….just…rather silly.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Lydia stared at him. Was he serious? She had never shared any of her sexual fantasies with anyone. Not with Saffron and certainly not with Douglas.

“All right.” Lydia cleared her throat. “I mean, if you really want to hear one.”

Tristan nodded, his eyes warm and encouraging.

“Well, one of my fantasies is to make love in a carriage.”

“A carriage?”

“Yes. Like something from a regency novel.”

She loved regency novels and had read a rather spicy one where the hero and heroine had made love in a carriage. The idea of being in a dark, enclosed space, the carriage rocking beneath her as she was being fucked never failed to make her wet.

“All right. I'll make the arrangements. What day would be good for you?”

Lydia laughed, but her laughter was shaded with unease as she couldn't help thinking he was making fun of her. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, but I am. But only if you want to do it.”

She stared at him. It was all so sudden and the swiftness of it frightened her. Then she thought of Saffron and the ease with which she enjoyed herself with her younger lovers. Why shouldn't it be just as easy for her? It wasn’t as if she was still married. Douglas had his new life with his new wife and soon to be born baby.

“All right. Yes. Let’s do it.”

Tristan graced her with a wide, beaming smile and kissed her, his arms moving around her, his cock hardening against her thigh.

A cell phone loudly rang.

At first Lydia thought it was hers, but then she remembered she’d turned hers off yesterday while at work.

Tristan's smile dimmed. He quickly rolled across the bed and swiped the cell phone from off the nightstand. He glanced at the display. His frown deepened. He lifted it to his ear. “Yes?”

He rose from the bed, pointed at the phone, his expression indicating it was a call he needed to take.

Lydia nodded.

“Yes, of course.” he said. “No, you did the right thing.” He paused, listening. “That won't be necessary. I'll get there as soon as I can.”

He lowered the phone from his ear and smiled sheepishly over at her. “I’m sorry, sweet, but I have to go.”

“No, that’s fine. I understand.” That wasn’t quite true. Douglas had gotten calls like that before their divorce. He had always claimed they had something to do with work, but it wasn’t until later she found out that most of them had been calls from Tiffany.

But she and Tristan weren’t married, and they certainly weren’t a couple. Just because the two of them had made love all night certainly didn’t make them lovers, and hadn’t she just told herself that this was what she wanted? Sex with no strings attached?

Tristan walked over to the bed, sat down on it and gently took her hand. “Do you, Lydia? Do you understand?”

His expression was so worried she felt a twinge of guilt. She cupped the firm line of his jaw. “Yes, of course I do.” She leaned over and kissed him.

He smiled, the anxious look disappearing from his eyes. “I'll contact you about that carriage ride.”

She shook her head. “I was only kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” He slid his lips along her shoulder and nuzzled her neck. “And I can hardly wait.”

Lydia shivered at the touch of his mouth on her skin, still not believing he was actually going to go through with it, but willing to play along for the time being. “Neither can I.”

Once they were both dressed, they exchanged cell phone numbers. Tristan then drove Lydia over to where her car was parked in the city lot. It was a lovely Sunday morning and she felt as glorious as the day itself. Standing next to her car, Tristan suddenly pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“I’m missing you already,” he whispered against her mouth.

Lydia returned his kiss, and although she was touched by his words, she wasn't quite sure what to make of all that had happened. It was still hard for her to believe that someone as young and handsome as Tristan Drake really wanted her.

But the way she felt in his arms and the way he kissed her, his lips devouring hers, as much as she feared it was nothing but a passing thing, she also wanted very much for it to be real.

As their kiss deepened, Tristan's tongue coiling wetly and warmly around hers, she felt his cock hardening against her.

She smiled against his mouth.

He pulled away and grinned. “I’d better go. Or, I swear, I’ll fuck you right here and now.”

Lydia laughed and the laughter rose from deep within her. It had been a long time since she had laughed so freely.

Tristan cupped her face, his fingers caressing her cheeks. “I do so love your laugh. And your smile.” He glanced at his watch and a frown creased his forehead. “Gotta run. But I’ll call you with the details about the carriage ride. Will next Saturday work for you?”

She raced quickly through her mind. Saturday. That was the night of her mother’s bridge club. She’d told her mother she had no plans for Saturday.

She smiled up at Tristan. “Yes, it will.”

“Great. Till then.”

He kissed her again then went over to his car, a late model black Jaguar. As Lydia watched, a woman turned the corner and walked towards him. She was young and very attractive. The woman glanced at him, did a double take, but kept on walking.

Lydia waited for Tristan to do as most men did when a young, attractive woman came into their line of vision. Turn and look. She’d seen it happen enough times with Douglas to know it was almost instinctive on most men’s part.

But Tristan didn’t look at the woman. When he reached his car, but before he opened the door, he turned around but it was to wave at Lydia.

She waved back, a sudden sensation of relief flooding through her. She got into her car and, as she drove away, she thought how silly it had been for her to be afraid Tristan would look at that younger woman. But why shouldn’t he, she asked herself. The woman was young and so was he.

She released a sigh. But that really wasn’t the issue, was it? She’d slept with Tristan and had enjoyed every minute of it, but he was under no obligation to give her more than he had given her. A night’s pleasure. And neither was she. But, apparently, he did want to give her more. She wanted so much to believe he was sincere, that he truly did want to see her again, but she also wasn’t going to fool herself. She wanted to trust him but trust was something she wasn’t able to give easily anymore.

As she drove home through the red, gold and yellow glory that was early autumn, she made herself sit up straight. She’d just spent the night with a handsome, sexy, younger man. For someone like herself, a recently divorced, thirty-nine year old woman whose last date had been nearly two decades ago, that was an accomplishment in itself.

She could have spent last night with her mother and the Weird Sisters learning to play bridge as that, apparently, was the path her mother had laid out for her. Become a widowed, or in her case, divorced crone and resign herself to spending the rest of her life with no love in it, much less sex.

Lydia glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She couldn’t help but notice the fine lines alongside her green eyes. Her smile dimmed and her hands gripped the steering wheel.

He’d gotten what he wanted. A one-night stand with an older woman. Why would he want more? Why would he need more? He was young, handsome and sexy. He could have any woman he wanted.

Why, in heaven’s name, would he want her?

Lydia bit her lower lip. There wasn’t going to be any carriage ride. There wasn’t going to be anything except her learning to play bridge, partnering up with her mother and officially becoming one of the Weird Sisters from now until the end of her days.

Seriously, who was she fooling?

Chapter Seven

“Relax, hon.”

Lydia, who was nervously pacing about her living room, glanced over at Saffron, who was sitting on the couch. Lydia had invited her over not only to help her get ready for her date but as moral support.

“He's coming.” She gave Lydia a sly look. “And he'll be coming even more once you two get going.”

Lydia stopped pacing and shook her head. “Don't you ever stop?”

Saffron grinned. “Nope. Not ever.”

“Do I look all right?”

Saffron sighed. “You look fine. Lovely. Sexy. Just as you did the last time you asked me five minutes ago.”

Lydia glanced down. She wore a white silk blouse, short black skirt, sheer hose and black pumps. Her hair was up but, at Saffron’s suggestion, she’d left a few ringlets loose.

“You don't think the skirt is too short?”

It was shorter than anything she’d ever worn. Even back in high school, she’d never worn anything this short. Her mother would have disowned her if she had.

“Maybe I should put on something longer.”

“Over my dead body. With legs like yours it would be a cardinal sin to wear anything longer.”

Lydia went back to pacing. Despite her having convinced herself that Tristan was never going to call her, he did, in fact, call her the next day to tell her he’d made the arrangements for their carriage ride and he would pick her up on Saturday at 6:00 p.m. sharp.

It was 6:25. Lydia nervously chewed a fingernail.

“Stop that,” Saffron scolded. “You'll mess up your manicure.”

Lydia lowered her hand but did not stop pacing. Maybe he was running late. Or maybe he had changed his mind and realized he really wasn’t interested in dating an older woman.

Her cell phone rang. She picked it up off the coffee table. It was her mother.

Lydia sighed, tempted to just ignore the call. She had no doubt what her mother wanted. She thumbed it on. “Yes, Mother.”

“The girls are all here. If you leave now, you can still make it for the bridge game.”

“Mother, I told you I wasn’t interested in learning how to play bridge.”

Saffron’s face twisted into a caricature of disgust and she pantomimed sticking her finger down her throat and gagging.

“Are you at home?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then you’re apparently not doing anything. Come over now before we get started.”

Lydia glanced at the clock. It was now 6:30. Her hand tightened around the phone. He wasn’t coming. He’d changed his mind. She’d gotten dressed up for nothing. Maybe she should just go over to her mother’s and learn to play bridge. At least it would give her something to do on Saturday nights.