Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (17 page)

She shook her head and scowled. “He was barely involved with any of the therapies, anything it took to help Andy… so it became a horrible living situation. I resented him so much, I got to a breaking
point. And you know what? I think yes, he would’ve stayed, just
because he’s so passive most of the time. But I couldn’t take it. I was so angry
at him…” She blushed suddenly, then cleared her throat and pulled her icy hands out of Sam’s grasp. “I’m sorry, I’m going off on a total rant here. I must sound like a witch. Oh God. I’m shutting up now. I
apologize.”

“Wait, no, don’t do that,” Sam said. He gripped her shoulders gently. “Don’t shut up, don’t apologize. I
asked
you to tell me. I’m
glad
you told me all of that. Now I have such a clearer picture, a better idea of… I wanted to get that pink elephant out of the room, you
know?”

“Fine. I’m glad you’re glad,” she said, her voice clipped and hard. “But I don’t want to talk about him anymore tonight. I don’t
want to waste any more breath on him, and I don’t want him touching this night. This night is mine.
Ours
. I don’t want to think about him at all.
I just want to think about you. So did I tell you enough, can we
change the subject now?”

“Of course, absolutely,” Sam said quickly. His eyes swept over her face, her set mouth. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lydia said, but her tone still had a bit of an edge. She
wouldn’t look at him, her eyes were glued to the window beyond him, and her cheeks were tinged with hot pink.

Sam realized immediately that she was uncomfortable with how
much she’d revealed—not about anything she and Matt had done, but
for the fervor with which she’d exposed just how angry and disappointed she’d been, for the slight rant she’d been unable to
contain once she got
started. He knew how highly she valued keeping control over
herself, recognized that she didn’t want to come across as negative to him so soon in the game, and guessed that she was probably reprimanding herself inwardly for what she’d said, was perhaps even embarrassed. In fact, he could almost actually feel her withdrawing from him, even though she sat only inches away.

Sam set the glass bowl on the floor. Then he turned back to her and said, “Hey. I have a great way to put you back in a better frame
of
mind. Allow me…” Ignoring the distance in her eyes, he smiled,
then covered her mouth with his own, slowly easing her back to lie down
on the pillows. As he kissed her, he could sense the tension in her
body, and he realized his speculation was likely right on point. She'd been
retreating within her head, and he’d started to distract her just in
time—she probably would have left the room altogether if he’d let her beat herself up for another full minute.

So he didn’t stop; he kept kissing her, slowly and deeply, letting his hands glide over her curves with tenderness. He didn’t let up
until he
felt her muscles relax again, felt her mood soften and her body
willingly
mold to his. Only then did he pull back for a moment to smile down at her, and felt his own tension subside when she smiled warmly in return.

The kisses quickly deepened. He moved slowly, embracing her, and breathed her name as he told her he wanted her again. She'd
wrapped her legs around his hips in answer, and stirred sinuously beneath him as she'd kissed him back. Soon they were moving together, and he was inside her again, but not fast and frenzied like it had been the
first time; this time, it was slow, languid, leisurely, as they took their
sweet time in exploring and enjoying each other…

Sam stopped running and blinked, his mind clearing as he
realized he was back at the hotel. He’d looped around the Manhattan blocks
without even realizing it, with no awareness at all, so lost in his
reverie
that the run had gone on automatic pilot. He gave a short laugh at
himself as he checked his watch; he’d been running for forty-five
minutes. Deciding it was enough, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, did a few quick cool down stretches, and then went back into the hotel to head for his room.

When he got to his door and pulled out his cardkey, a sickening sense of déjà vu washed over him, made him stop cold and pause with his hand in midair. That first weekend, after Lydia had spent
the night in his hotel room, sleeping sweetly in his arms, he had gotten up to go for his morning run without waking her. He’d written a note to tell her he’d be back soon, and then left, enjoying a run around the
property in Connecticut much like the one he’d just had in
Manhattan, similarly lost in thoughts of the previous night with her.

But in Connecticut, when he’d returned to his room, she’d been gone. She’d fled the scene, filled with doubt and ambivalence over what had occurred between them. He’d had to track her down, and when he did, she had already started working on shutting him out, protecting herself. He remembered how his heart had pounded with anxiety, how he’d tried to sound calm as he talked to her, the look of
quiet panic in her eyes. But he’d given it his all and eventually won her over, convinced her that she could trust him, that they should try
to see each other again, maybe try dating long distance… still, the fact was, when he’d left her alone, she’d given in to her fears, and he’d almost lost her before they’d even begun.

Sam swallowed hard and stared at the hotel room door. After the incredible day and night they’d just shared—the park, the meals, the bar, making love twice, talking about all sorts of things, laughing
endlessly, holding each other and whispering until they’d fallen
asleep
in each other’s arms—she
had
to be there. She had to be right where
he’d left her only an hour before, sleeping in the majestic king sized
bed. She wouldn’t have bolted, not a second time… Sam closed his
eyes, mad at himself for even thinking it, but
man
…

He shoved the cardkey in the door and thrust it open. The suite
was
silent. He closed the door quietly behind him, feeling tension creep into his bones, and crossed the front room to stand in the bedroom doorway.

Lydia was right there, sound asleep, her lustrous copper hair
fanned out against the snow white pillows, her luscious naked body still tangled up in the sheets and comforter. Sam released his held
breath in a relieved whoosh and kicked off his sneakers. He shook his head in disdain, berating himself for ever doubting her. He
stepped
over to her and listened to her slow, deep breathing. He dropped a feather light kiss on her bare shoulder, stared at her for a few
seconds, then tiptoed to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Ten minutes later, Sam slipped in between the sheets and molded his naked body to Lydia’s, spooning her affectionately.
Filled with deep elation at the feel of her warm, soft body, he held her close. But the feel of his cool, slightly damp skin woke her with a start. She smiled without even opening her eyes. With a deep hum of delicious satisfaction, she curled herself against him and murmured drowsily, “You’re back.”

“I am.” He smiled, and kissed her cheek. “Did you miss me?”

“Terribly.” She smiled back. “Even though I was sleeping, I
missed you terribly.” She turned, wrapped her arms around his waist, and
buried her face in his neck to breathe in the scent of him. “Mmm,
you smell good, nice and clean. But you’re a little cold.”

“Oh yeah? I’m sorry. Can you warm me up?” he asked
suggestively, kissing her lips and tightening his embrace.

She smirked, with her eyes still closed, and slowly ran her hand
down the length of his body until it rested on his ass. Slipping her leg in between his, she purred, “Can I warm you up? Mmm, I think
so…”

***

They spent the rest of the morning in their sanctuary, unable to
take their hands off each other, drifting in and out of conversation and periods of lazy, delicious half-sleep. Eventually Sam ordered brunch, and they enjoyed it sitting up in bed. They had almost finished eating when Sam looked at the clock and said, “Well, it’s
eleven o’clock already. Do we bother to leave this paradise and go do something else, or would you rather just stay here for the rest of the day?”

Lydia’s eyes sparkled as she asked, “What do
you
want to do?”

He smiled gloriously. “I honestly don’t care. I have no problem staying right here, as long as it’s with you naked in this bed. I also have no problem going out and doing anything you’d like. You said Matt’s bringing Andy home at six tonight, so you have to take a five o’clockish train, right? Okay. We have a few hours, still. So, what’ll it be? Stay
in
and play, or go
out
and play?”

She laughed, a light joyous tinkle of a laugh. “Everything. Nothing. Both.”

He leaned in and kissed her mouth. He could taste the sweetness
of the maple syrup she’d had on her French toast and licked her bottom lip. “Sounds good to me.”

She glanced towards the windows. Sunlight streamed through the blinds and warmed the room with its glow. “It looks like another nice day… I’m truly torn.”

“Is there anything specific you’d like to do?” Sam asked. “Other than me, of course.”

She laughed and tossed her napkin at him. He laughed too.

“You know what I’d like to do?” she said slowly, as the idea
occurred to her and unfolded in her mind. “Yesterday, you took me
to the park, definitely my kind of thing. Today, I want to do
your
kind of thing. You love art, you’re an artist. Take me to a museum, or a gallery, or wherever you’d go by yourself, and show me something you like. I want to see you in your element, on your home turf.”

A slow, deep smile spread on his face and lit his eyes. “That
sounds fantastic. I’d love to do that with you.”

By 11:30 a.m., they were in a cab, en route to the Museum of Modern Art. They strolled through some of the grand rooms and
halls. Lydia held Sam’s hand and let him lead her around, from exhibit to exhibit, as he showed her what he liked, what he loved, what interested him, even what didn’t appeal to him at all. She listened to him talk and watched his face as he grew animated while describing something.
She liked how passionate he became when pointing out something
that gripped him, and felt a little stir deep inside her… something
more than appreciation or infatuation; something like true affection.

At 2:30 p.m., they headed back to the hotel. They had a quick lunch in the hotel café, then went up to his room so they could pack their
things. Her train was leaving Penn Station at five; a car service was coming at six to take him to JFK Airport, giving him ample time to catch his flight at eight-fifteen back to O’Hare.

Once they were both finished packing, Sam gave Lydia a wicked
grin and, without warning, tossed her onto the bed. She giggled as
he climbed on top of her. “A quickie for the road?” she quipped.

“I was hoping.” He shot her a lazy, unbearably sexy smile. “I
hear the fourth time’s a charm.”

“You’re greedy. You’re insatiable. You’re a machine!” A low
groan escaped her as he nibbled mercilessly on her neck. “Oh God… I’m not going to be able to walk.”

“I’ll carry you to the train,” he laughed, and kissed her passionately.

Half an hour later, Sam watched Lydia in content silence as she
got dressed again. His eyes lingered on her as she zipped up her
jeans,
fastened her black bra, and pulled the soft burgundy sweater over her head once more. He watched her put on her jewelry, comb her tousled hair into submission, all with a besotted smile. “Hey,” he
said, his voice velvety. “Come here.”

She smiled and crawled across the mattress to him. He was
stretched out leisurely, still naked, the sheets pulled up to his waist. She kissed him, ran her fingers over his chest, and said, “You really should get dressed if you want to walk me down to the taxi stand. I have to get going soon, or I’ll miss my train.”

“Lydia.” His eyes were fixed on her face, and the tone of his voice was serious. He ran a fingertip along her cheek. “This was the
most incredible weekend… I loved every minute of it. I hope you did too.”

“Are you kidding me?” she said, incredulous. She kissed him again, more firmly this time. “Everything was wonderful. I can't
even… it went way beyond what I thought it would be.
You’re
wonderful. I had a fantastic weekend with you.”

He smiled at her. “Good.” He held her face in his palm,
compelling her to look into his eyes, and asked quietly, “So when are we seeing each other again?”

Her breath caught and her heart skipped a beat. This was the
one
thing they hadn’t talked about. She’d been afraid to broach the
subject, uncertain of what he was thinking. “Um… I don’t know?”

“Nope. No good. I need to know.” Not releasing her face, he caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb and held her gaze.
“Lydia… this is
real. We’re good together. We enjoy each other. This is…” He stared
intently into her eyes. “This could be the beginning of something fantastic. I want to be with you, and you want to be with me. So we just
have to make it work somehow. I’ll come back to New York. What
about in two weeks? That’s the weekend before Thanksgiving. I
don’t want to wait longer than that to see you again.”