Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (15 page)

Sam barely registered the buildings as he shot past them; the people, the cars on the streets, any of it—all he felt was the cool air
and
sensed the light from the dawning sunrise on his face, the welcome burn in the muscles of his legs, the roar of the electric music in his ears. He was already in his zone, and this morning, his mind was
completely
wrapped up in scenes from the night before. They flashed through
his head like bursts of lightning, helping to boost him forward.

He recalled easing Lydia through the bedroom door, pushing her gently into the darkened room… the raw heat, the urgency, the intensity between them… the feel of her arching beneath him, the
wondrous and erotic look on her face when he touched her… the amazing sensation
of being inside her, how they moved together… the sound of her
cries,
passionately exquisite… how he couldn’t stop kissing her after
they'd both reached release.

“Hey,” he’d finally managed to whisper against her mouth, “I’ve gotta tell ya, I think all your parts are working just fine.”

She’d laughed, a warm sound from deep in her throat. “Hey, I think you’re right.”

They laid together quietly, just holding each other, clinging to each other, kissing, caressing, whispering… more than half an hour passed before Sam finally pulled away and reached for the hotel phone.

“What are you doing?” Lydia asked.

“Ordering something.” He grinned. “I’m thirsty. Vehemently thirsty.”

“You just love room service,” she accused, teasing. “You did this in Connecticut too.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. I do love room service. One of my little guilty indulgences when I go to hotels. I wish they had it in my apartment building, I’d use it every day.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting up in bed, tangled
happily in the sheets, drinking bottled water and eating fruit salad with their fingers out of a tremendous glass bowl.

“So,” Sam proclaimed jauntily, “I think this went well, no?”

Lydia laughed so hard she almost choked on the piece of
honeydew she’d been chewing. “Yes. And you’re silly.”

He grinned brightly. “Not very. I just love to hear you laugh.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m an easy audience.” She cleared her
throat
a few times, trying to get the juices from the melon out of her
windpipe. “Or, you’re trying to kill me. Death by fruit inhalation. Very original. They’ll never suspect a thing.”

This time it was Sam who laughed.

“So is this a ritual for you?” she asked, reaching into the large glass bowl for a cluster of purple grapes. “Fruit intake after fooling around? We did this last time too, as I recall.”

“And as I recall, we had a lot of fun doing it.” He grinned,
tossing
her a sexy wink. “It’s a great way to get the blood sugar back up.
Also satisfies your thirst. And it’s good for you.”

“You’re too healthy for me,” she cracked. “You’re a workout fiend, aren’t you?”

“No,” he replied. “I used to be, but nowadays, not so much.” He looked at the fat Macintosh apple that sat like a jewel upon the cut up honeydew and pineapple, sliced oranges, three bananas, and a
bunch of purple grapes. He lifted the apple by its stem and examined it.

“Liar,” she accused with a smile. “You run every morning. Your arms and shoulders are muscled too, and that’s not from running. How many times a week do you go to the gym?”

“Only twice,” he said, rubbing the apple against the bed sheet. “Used to be three or four times a week before I got the promotion, but I haven’t really had the time I used to have. Some nights I work
really late, and I’m just too drained to go by the time I get out of there.”

“Yeah, well, that’s still twice a week more than I go,” she noted. “I haven’t been able to go to the gym regularly in over four years. In fact, truth be told, I haven’t gone at all.”

“You had a kid,” Sam pointed out. “That’s a damn good excuse.” He bit into the shiny red apple with gusto.

Lydia shrugged. “Well, whether it’s a reason or an excuse, it is what it is. I mean, I chase Andy wherever we go, I take him to the park, we go for walks, so I do
move
. But it’s not true exercise. Plus, I
know
I
wouldn’t have ordered a bowl full of fruit up here. I would’ve chosen something much more decadent. My daily food choices stink
too.”

He chuckled and asked, “What would you have ordered? Name it and I’ll get it.”

“No, this is fine, but thank you,” she said. “Besides, if I’m going to get naked with you again, I have to start eating more of this and fewer nacho chips. I’ve got some work to do.”

His eyes rounded and set on her face. He reached out, cupped her chin, and brought her face to his for a long kiss. “Lydia,” he said, with quiet authority in his voice. “While I really love the thought of you getting naked with me repeatedly, I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself that way. You don’t have ‘work to do’. You’re fine the way you are. I like you just the way you are. Okay?”

She blushed slightly as she replied, “That’s very sweet, if not slightly clichéd. But let’s be honest, I’m not anywhere near as…
fit
as you are. And it’s making me feel more than a little self-conscious, I
admit it.”

He shook his head, kissed her again, and murmured tenderly, “You really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you.”

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” she murmured back. “I’m just telling it like it is.”

“I know you believe that. But here’s me, telling
you
like it is: I
think
you’re absolutely beautiful.” He kissed her a few times more before
pulling back. He smiled at her warmly and bit into his apple, tossing her a wink as he crunched.

She smiled back, the demure smile he liked so much. “You’re not
so bad to look at either, you know,” she said softly. She plucked two fat purple grapes from their stems and kept her eyes fixed on them as she added, “I mean, if we’re passing out compliments and all, you
certainly
deserve a bunch. You're a very handsome man, and I very much enjoy looking at you. I love your eyes, and your smile…” A faint
blush
bloomed on her cheeks. “Honestly, it makes me melt, every single
time. It’s kind of stupid, really. So there.”

“Well thank you. That’s nice to know.” He kissed her, then
smirked
and shook his head again. “You know… you’re interesting. I’m
enjoying learning you, trying to figure you out. Sometimes you’re a real study in contradictions, you know that?”

Her brows creased as she looked at him warily. “How so?”

“Well… sometimes you’re so bold it takes me off guard, and then sometimes you blush at the smallest thing,” Sam remarked with
a
smile. “Sometimes you’re so open, you say exactly what’s on your
mind, no matter what the response might be. And then sometimes, you hem and haw and beat around the bush to the point I think you could trip over it.” Sam took a smaller bite from his apple. “Are you like that always, or just with me?”

“Truth? Always,” she admitted with a rueful grin.

“Mm hmm.” He studied her, mulling that over as he finished his mouthful. “So you’re… overly cautious in general.”

She laughed dryly at that. “Overly cautious? That’s a nice, gentle way of putting it. Maybe I am. However, I can’t really be
too
cautious, if
you think about it—I’m here, aren’t I? In bed with the guy I met on what was essentially a great one-night stand? You could’ve really been an axe murderer, luring me here to do God knows what. You
could’ve
been one that first night, and I went back to your room with you
anyway.”

He chuckled, then took a quick sip of his water and noted, “You
know, I think that was a fluke, when we met. For both of us. All of it.
I mean, I don’t usually pursue a woman I've only just met so intently, much less end up chasing her a third of the way across the country. And you don’t usually accept invitations such as mine—I did believe you when you told me that. We just really clicked, and we went with
it. You knew from minute one that I wasn’t an axe murderer.” He grinned mischievously. “Plus, you’re in my bed tonight because I
wore you down until you couldn’t resist my sexy charms anymore. You just
had
to see me again.”

She chuckled and her smile deepened. “Actually, you’re right. About all of that.”

He was pleased to hear her admit it, but wanted to know more.
“Overly cautious…,” he continued, taking another bite of his apple. He chewed slowly as he gazed at her and pondered further. “So,
how
come? You’re an intelligent woman, I'd think you usually try to
exercise good judgment. So what’s to be so cautious about all the time? Been burned one too many times? The bad marriage? You’re a self-control freak? Or are you just… a little bit afraid in general?”

“Hmm.” She pressed her lips together tightly, her eyes lowering
to her lap. “All of the above,” she finally murmured. She pulled
another grape off its stem and placed it in her mouth, taking a minute before looking up to meet his stare.

His warm, dark eyes filled with appreciation. “Thank you,” he said.

She swallowed and asked, “For what?”

“For taking that tiny leap and trusting me.” He gave her a kind smile. “If all those reasons were on the mark, then that was hard for
you to admit. You trusted me enough to admit it out loud, you
didn’t deflect the questions. Thank you.”

Now she was the one to stare at him and ponder his words. She
ate another grape before she spoke. “You told me once that people generally consider you to be a good judge of character,” she said,
recalling a conversation they’d had the first weekend. “They’re right. You’re good at reading people. You’re very intuitive.”

“And you don’t like that,” he guessed, his smile twisting a bit.

She shrugged. “I don’t
dis
like it. Yes, it unnerves me when you hit on something I wasn’t expecting, but that’s actually a good thing. It shows your brain is working, and that you truly try to, want to, understand other people. I’m just not used to a man being like that… asking questions, trying to figure out what I’m thinking or feeling. Being genuinely interested. Matt never tried to figure out what was in my head, that's for sure. He wasn’t interested. He really just didn’t give a crap. I think you’ve probably asked more about me in the past two weeks than he did in the whole time we were together, and I'm not exaggerating.”

Sam nodded slowly as he absorbed that.

“I admit it,” she added, “you’re a much more open person than I am. But you’re also a braver person than I am, and those two traits are definitely connected.” She gave a tiny smile and popped another grape into her mouth.

He gave her an intent look and said, “You think I’m brave?
That’s flattering. And it’s a very strong word. Huh… I'm brave. Okay. So now I’ll admit something big to you, like you just did to me, since you think I'm so brave. I mean, fair’s fair, right?” He took another bite of the apple and chewed slowly as he contemplated.

She waited patiently, obviously glad his focus was off of her for the moment.

“Okay. How about this, going back to the string of conversation that started all this.” Sam looked at her plainly, but his voice was filled with soft and unmistakable force. “I’m not a gym hound, or a musclehead. I don’t work out to try to impress anyone. I don’t really care how I look, I care how I
feel
. The main reason I run every single day, go to the gym when I can, eat well, and am slightly obsessed with staying healthy, is really pretty simple: it’s because I’m terrified of getting sick. I want to be in good health for as long as I possibly
can, so I do my part. Because after watching Chelsea get sick,
dwindle
away slowly… when you’ve witnessed something like that up
close…”
His voice trailed off, and his eyes penetrated Lydia’s with a somber look. “So do you still think I’m brave? Because that’s all based on fear more than anything else, when it comes down to it. You
understand?”

“Of course I do,” Lydia whispered. She leaned in to kiss him tenderly, hold his face between both of her hands. “And yes, I still think you’re brave. Sorry.” She kissed him several times before
pulling away. The sheet fell away from her body, and she picked it up to cover her chest, tucking it underneath her arms to hold it in place.

Sam paused, his eyes narrowing on her as a new thought
occurred, then took another bite of the apple. He was almost finished with it
before he ventured, “Can I ask you something else, while we’re
sitting around, being so open with each other?”

“Sure.” Lydia instantly looked wary again. “What is it?” she
asked, sensing the subtle change.

He wanted to be kind, pick his words carefully. His voice was
quiet as he asked, “You admitted you’re feeling a little self-conscious tonight. I was wondering if that’s why you won’t let me look at you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, even though he had a feeling she knew exactly what he was asking. Her face slowly started to flush anew.

“Well, we’ve been… intimate… been in various states of
undress… the last time, this time…” He watched the pink creep into her cheeks. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, forget it. I’m a jackass.”

“No, you’ve come this far, just say it,” she insisted.

“Okay… well, the first time, you turned off the lights. That was
fine. Tonight, you didn’t let me turn them on. Although, to be fair to you, it’s not like we really had a chance, we were too busy throwing
each other around.” He winked. “But if we’re not in the dark, like right now, you wrap yourself up like a mummy. You won’t let me
look at you. I mean,
really
look
at you. And I'm dying to, do you know that?”