Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) (26 page)

“How so?” Alec asked.

“Well, the crowd parts like the Red Sea,” Donna grinned salaciously, “and there’s Lydia in front of this cop, stammering, freaked out, and stoned out of her mind, trying to seem mature and coherent. He walks in, kind of bringing her to the center of the room, everyone’s watching in silence…”

“And then the music started,” Kathryn said, and all the women burst into laughter.

“The cop asks Lydia to sit down,” Melanie said between gasps. “And she’s so scared, and so stoned, she just does as he says, not realizing she’s the only one sitting, on a chair in the middle of the room…” She dissolved into more helpless laughter.

“The guy wasn't a cop. He was a
stripper
,” Lydia explained. “These three hired him for my birthday, knowing full well how totally embarrassed and mortified I would be.”

“Which she was!” Donna cried. “You had to see her face!”

The whole group was laughing now.

“I still am, to this day! This guy’s, like, unbuttoning his shirt, gyrating his hips in my face, gross!” Lydia spat. “And
everyone’s
there, just watching me squirm in horror and loving it, cheering the guy on.”

“She really was not happy,” Melanie conceded. “I felt so bad for her, I had to do something. So when he asked her to remove his briefs with her teeth, and she absolutely refused, I got in there and did it instead. Sitting on her lap.”

“Nice!” Paige cried.

“Now that’s a good friend,” Sam said admiringly.

“Yup.” Melanie shrugged. “Someone had to do it. Poor Lydia looked like a deer in the headlights. She was practically frozen stiff.”

“And then you dirty danced with him,” Lydia noted. “Again, gross.”

“He was cute!” Melanie said in her own defense. “We didn’t get you an
ugly
stripper, that’s for sure. So why waste him?”

“There are pictures, somewhere…” Kathryn said.

“That’s right, there were!” Donna yelled.

“I’d love to see those,” Ryan grinned.

“That will never happen!” Melanie cried.

Lydia took a long sip from her drink. She was moving beyond buzzed into really good and drunk, and welcomed it. She was enjoying herself. She loved being with her old friends. Her cheeks and sides actually ached from all the laughing. She loved the way Sam’s hand felt on her hip, the slightest show of possessiveness. She felt good.

A new song came blaring from the jukebox, an old school hip-hop song with an undulating, sexy bass line and slamming groove.

“I
love
this song!” Lydia cried. She hopped off the bar stool quickly, and the floor swayed a bit beneath her feet. Sam caught her.

“Whoa there.” He laughed, holding her arms to steady her. “You okay?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes.” She felt the alcohol soaring through her and took in his amazing smile, his beautiful dark eyes staring down at her. With the help of liquid confidence, she decided right then to live in the moment, let go of her defenses, throw aside her barriers. She interlocked her fingers behind his neck and looked up at him with a sultry smile. “Dance with me.”

Sam swallowed. “Um… I don’t dance to fast songs, remember?” he said, even as he slid his arms around her waist. He saw the new glimmer in her eyes and wondered at it.

“Are you drunk enough to try?” she asked, her smile turning coyly flirtatious.

He grinned back. “Almost, actually,” he teased. “But maybe I’m shy.”

“You? Shy? Nah. I think you’re afraid to dance with me.” With alcohol fueled bravado, she pressed herself against him, looked up into his eyes from beneath her lashes. She ground her hips against his ever so slightly and said in a seductive tone, “What’s the matter, Mr. Forrester? Don’t you have any moves?”

He felt his libido soar, felt pure lust shoot through his belly and heat race through his veins as he gazed back down at her. “I got moves, woman.” He smirked, and his arms tightened around her waist to hold her closer.

“Prove it,” she purred with a sinful smile.

Sam was mesmerized. He had to tear his eyes away from hers to shout to the bartender, “John! I need a shot of something strong, fast!”

“Yes sir!” John smiled.

Sam and Lydia stared at each other, held each other, completely spellbound… smiling wickedly, challenging, anticipating, ignoring everyone and everything around them. The world around them had fallen away.

Within twenty seconds, a shot glass full of golden liquid was placed on the bar beside Sam, who hadn’t moved, hadn't been able to. He was transfixed by the woman in his arms and slightly shocked at just how much he wanted her. If they weren't surrounded by people in a public place, he would've lunged at her on the spot. Instead, he leaned over to reach for the small glass, raised it in regard to her, and expertly knocked the shot back in one smooth gulp. He felt the rush of it hum through his body. He looked down at Lydia and said with determination, “Let’s go.”

He took her hand and pulled her to the space of the lounge that had been cleared for dancing, again ignoring the surprised and amused looks on the faces of their companions. A few other people were dancing already, bumping and grinding to the heavy groove. Sam held Lydia loosely as they started to dance. He knew they were both drunk now, but not yet sloppy or too far gone; they were just drunk enough to be able to let go and have some flirty fun.

Sam held his own, but had to admit she was a much better dancer than he was. Lydia kept the beat easily, naturally. She danced suggestively with him as she kept time to the song, and he felt his whole body react. She let her hair swing around, and a satisfied grin pop onto her face. He smiled broadly at her. He loved seeing her this way—free, strong, sexy, and enjoying herself.

He snuck a discreet glance at her cleavage, unable to stop himself when he had such a great vantage point. She had fantastic curves. His hands went to her waist, slid down to her swaying hips, and pulled her closer. Her arms dropped to his shoulders as she smiled and fit herself to him. Her eyes locked on his, the direct gaze provocative; she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself even tighter against him. Lust surged through him, merciless and fierce.

“You’re teasing me,” Sam managed to say into her ear.

“Am I?” Her lips curled, a flirtatious smirk. She deliberately ground her hips against his, pressing against his erection, and every nerve ending he had went on fire. His fingers dug into her hips.

“No,” he said, his voice mildly strangled. “Now you’re torturing me.”

She threw her head back and laughed. His entire body hummed with an almost electric sensation. He held the back of her head, leaned down, and kissed her exposed throat. They kept dancing, enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies moving in time together, having a good time. When the song ended, Sam reached down, took her hand firmly in his, and pulled her towards the door. She could only giggle. He planted her by the doorway. “Wait, stay right here,” he said.

His head spinning slightly, he walked over to the bar, and picked up her handbag from where she’d left it. He’d caught the array of expressions on their friends’ faces, varying from surprised to amused to smirking approval, and didn’t care a whit. He quickly headed right back to her, without a word to anyone. Then he gave her the handbag, took her by the hand again, and determinedly led her out of the lounge.

The music and loud voices from the after-party were muffled by the time they got to the staircase. Sam stopped and turned to look down at Lydia. “Is this okay with you?” he asked in a quiet, husky tone. “Are you sure?”

She nodded and gave him a warm, appreciative smile. He smiled back at her.

“Your place or mine?” he tried to joke, but his voice felt thick in his throat.

“Yours,” Lydia said. Somewhere in the back of her mind, even in her slightly drunken and heightened emotional state, she knew she wanted to go to his room so she’d have the option of leaving, instead of possibly having to ask him to leave. But she pushed it back into the recesses of her mind, deciding again to enjoy herself, to be in the moment for once. She followed him silently down the two flights of stairs, down the long hallway, and watched wordlessly as he got his card key out of his jacket pocket and opened his door. He held it open, reached in to flick on the light switch, then moved aside for her to enter first.

She felt her heart begin to thump like a heavy bass drum as she went in; it was pounding in her ears. She took a deep breath to calm herself, swallowed hard. His room was similar to hers, the same color scheme, but a little more spacious. He had a queen sized bed as well, but a bit more floor space; his room also had a couch nestled beneath a window along the far wall, a desk, an armoire, a dresser, and a door on the right that led to the bathroom.

“Lydia,” he said quietly behind her.

She turned to him. He was watching her, cautious, patient, and concentrated.

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, and I would never ask you to,” he said, his voice low and even. His dark eyes gazed at her intensely. “I’m not going to deny how much I want you right now, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, at any time. You want to stop, we stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.
Stop thinking
, she commanded herself.
Just live a little. Just be
.

She took two steps forward, leaned up against the length of him, and, with a sweet grin, gently pushed him. They backed up the few steps together, until he was standing with his back against the wall, her body aligned with his. She saw how intently he watched her as she moved; his eyes never left her face. The only sound in the room was that of their breathing. Still smiling, she reached to the wall, felt along it until she found the switch, and turned off the lights. The room fell into soft darkness.

“Call me old fashioned,” she joked in a whisper, her face only inches away from his. She took a gentle hold of his silk tie, slowly, deliberately wrapped it around her hand, and used it to pull him down to kiss her.

His hands tangled in her hair as he fiercely kissed her back. As he deepened the kiss, she let go of his tie, and her hands went to the lapel of his jacket, gripping it, pulling him closer, before her arms snaked up to wrap around his neck.

He pulled her against him, holding her close and savoring the feel of her as he kissed her. His hands ran slowly down the length of her body, over every tempting, delicious curve, as he felt her melt into his arms. The kisses were deep, hot, and hungry. Searching, matching in rising force, the heat level soared, both of them overcome with want and need.

He grasped at her waist and spun her around, then moved her back against the wall with a lustful groan. That seemed to push her desire up a notch; she slipped her hands under his jacket and pushed it off of him. It fell to the floor without a sound. Sam grabbed his tie and yanked it off hurriedly, sliding it out of his collar in one expert motion. He smiled as he dipped his head again, brushed his lips against hers, teasing her, nipping playfully, running his tongue ever so slowly across her bottom lip before covering her mouth with his in a deep, ravenous kiss. A sigh of sheer pleasure escaped from the back of her throat, adding fuel to his raging fire. He reached around to her back to find the zipper on her dress, moving his mouth down to kiss and bite at her neck as he searched.

“I'm not moving too fast for you, am I?” he breathed in her ear. “You're okay?”

“Hell yeah, I'm okay,” she rasped, her voice thick with desire. “I'm a lot more than okay.”

“Good.” He smiled into the nape of her neck. He'd found the zipper and started slowly, teasingly, lowering it as he revealed in a husky whisper, “Because I'm dying to touch you. I want to feel your skin, run my hands over every inch of it.”

Her breath caught in her throat. He let his fingers skim along her shoulders, then down her exposed back. “That's funny,” she whispered. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

She reached up to unbutton his shirt; she tried not to be hasty, wanting to relish the deliciousness of opening his shirt slowly and exposing his skin to her. As she undid the last button, she realized her fingers were trembling a bit, and laughed at herself. He smiled down at her before possessively taking her mouth again, crushing her to him even as she slid his shirt off over his shoulders.

He tried to restrain himself for as long as he could. He gradually moved his mouth down to her neck to devour the soft skin there, let his hands wander and learn her curves, taking, caressing. He pushed down the caps of her sleeveless dress to kiss and nip at her shoulders, held her as he exposed her black bra and bent to let his lips roam down into the contours of her ample chest. He felt a shudder run through her when he kissed her breast, then heard her sharp intake of breath as his mouth closed over her nipple. A rush of lust roared through him in response. He gently tugged at the dress until it was down around her waist.

Lydia ran her fingers through his hair before dropping her hands to his broad shoulders to grip them; when she tipped her head back and whispered his name with a soft moan, it undid him completely. Kissing her passionately, he edged her backward, over to the bed.

* * *

Sam thanked the man who’d brought the bottles of water and food up to his room, tipped him, and closed the door quietly. He turned back to look at Lydia and stood there for a moment, just taking her in. She was lying in his bed, her copper hair fanned out over his pillow, facing away from him to gaze out the windows across the room. Sam smiled. He really enjoyed just looking at her, having her there.

They had come so close, excruciatingly close… a few more seconds of abandon, and that would have been it… but just as he’d hooked his thumb into her panties to slide them down over her hips, she’d stopped him.

“Wait,” she gasped. Lydia splayed her hands on his bare chest and pulled her mouth away from his, panting. “Oh God. Wait.”

Sam stopped and looked down at her beneath him, his breath coming in short, heavy spurts, his pulse racing. “You okay?” he asked, his voice husky.