Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) Page 11

  She ran her fingers through his hair, down his back as her mind slowly floated back down to earth. He raised his head to sweetly kiss her mouth over and over, even as they tried to catch their breath and couldn't seem to do so. She didn't want him to ever stop kissing her. When he tenderly smiled at her, something pinged in her heart, then opened wide and expanded with light. She smiled back as their breathing calmed and the kisses softened into sweetness. She wanted to lie with him like that for days, their bodies and mouths intertwined, hot and close and sealed, and just keep kissing him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SAM’S EYES OPENED slowly. It was still dark, but he sensed it was early morning. Lydia was curled up against him, naked, warm, soft, her arm and leg intertwined with his. As she slept, he smiled and listened to the pattern of her deep, even breathing. He laid still and relished the feel of her next to him; gently, he stroked her back, kissed her forehead. He turned to look at the glowing numbers on the small digital clock on the nightstand. It was ten minutes past six. He calculated quickly: that meant he’d had about six hours of sleep, give or take. More than enough. Although Lydia’s heated, velvety body was not something he wanted to pull away from, he knew he had to at that moment, or he might not do it at all. His deep streak of discipline kicked in. Carefully, he disentangled himself from her, pulled back the covers, and got out of bed.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “Was it something I said?”

  He chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Not at all. I’m just going for my run. Sorry, I tried not to wake you.”

  “I’m a mother, I wake up from the tiniest things,” she said. Her deep voice was even deeper with fatigue, and slightly ragged. “You’re really going?”

  “Every morning, without fail, unless there’s ice. Have to. Go back to sleep,” he said. “I’ll be back in a little while. And I want to know I can slip back in here next to you, warm and soft and waiting for me.”

  She smiled and murmured, “That sounds delicious. See you soon.” Her heavy eyelids slid closed.

  He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her mouth, then pulled away to get dressed. Her breathing slowed within two minutes, and he knew she’d fallen back to sleep.

  Ten minutes later, his running clothes and sneakers on, iPod in hand and room key securely in the pocket of his pullover hooded sweatshirt, Sam strolled through the eerily quiet lobby of the hotel. There was something about early morning hours, being up and about before most of the world, that never ceased to lose its magic for him. He exited the hotel onto Sixth Avenue and felt the cold air of an autumnal sunrise hit him; he breathed it in deeply, welcoming the brisk, vibrant morning. This morning, he felt better than he had in a very long time. He felt deeply satisfied, vitally alive, and just plain happy.

  He stretched his limbs and muscles before turning on his iPod. “Crawl” by Kings of Leon came blaring into his ears and he took off with a grin, jetting easily down Sixth Avenue, propelled by the song’s ferocious groove and his thoughts of the previous night.

  The whole date with Lydia—from start to finish—had met all of his expectations and rocketed beyond them. It was almost surreal that everything had gone so well. And it wasn’t even over yet—he still had most of Sunday to spend with her. He knew he probably looked foolish since he was unable to wipe the besotted smile off his face, but he didn’t care. In New York City, no one looked at anyone long enough to notice anyway.

  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 dislike 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?”

  Lydia was silent. Her cheeks looked like they were burning, and her gaze slid down to the mattress. She slowly exhaled a deep breath, and said nothing.

  Sam winced. Her embarrassment was palpable. He immediately regretted mentioning it. A little too open, he thought with remorse. Too much, too fast, you fucking idiot. He took a deep breath and decided, since he’d already put it out there, to press on gingerly and get it over with, and then never bring it up again. He leaned in to kiss her lips with exquisite tenderness, caressed her face, and murmured with a soft smile, “Half the fun of getting naked with somebody is getting to see them naked, you know.”

  She smirked in spite of her piercing awkwardness. “That’s true.”

  He looked at her with what he hoped was obvious compassion and warmth. “I want to see you. All of you. I’m crazy about you, you don’t have to be shy with me.”