Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (14 page)

His kiss was a heady mixture of genuine sweetness and intense
desire. One of his hands tangled in her thick hair, and the other
moved slowly down her back to hold her against him. He deepened the kiss, touched his tongue to hers, and moaned softly into her mouth. She leaned into him and his hands began to roam over her, savoring every soft curve. His mouth, warm and insistent, never left hers.

It had been so long for her, she decided to enjoy the ride. Lydia’s inhibitions quickly melted away as she felt pure lust flood and
overtake her senses. She melted into him, feeling boneless,
weightless. Sam kissed her over and over, hot one second, tender the next, all his kisses intense with passion. He wanted her. He was hungry for her. The delight of that realization had her wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back with matching desire.

He grasped her even tighter, held her closer, and deepened the kisses as he pressed the entire length of her body against his. His mouth consumed hers. She could feel the evidence of how much he
wanted her, hard and undeniable against her belly. It made her almost dizzy with desire as her body surged with a new rush of scorching need.

The momentum between them skyrocketed quickly. Their kisses grew deeper, more intense, more demanding. Eager hands wandered, the sound of their breathing escalated… everything he gave, she gave right back.

Sam could feel his self-control slipping away. He'd wanted this too much, and now that he had Lydia in his arms, he wanted to just
take
her. He wanted to devour every inch of her skin, feel her against him, around him, hear her cry out his name as she let go.

He forced himself to slow down a bit. It had been a long time for her, and he wanted their first time together to be special; he wanted it to be good for her. Controlling himself, he let her set the pace so she'd be comfortable. She needed that. He knew she needed to feel strong, not vulnerable. Because maybe then, she'd finally let herself
go. That was what he wanted most. Even more than his own
pleasure, he wanted to watch her have pleasure, and to give that to her, more than anything.

He buried his face in her neck, kissing, licking, nipping, tasting her. Her skin was so soft, so warm. With a lustful growl, he held her close as he teased her with his mouth, gliding down her neck and back up again. His hands were everywhere, he couldn’t get enough. He heard her breath catch in her throat, felt her shudder, and smiled against her skin. “God, I've been waiting for this,” he told her in a husky whisper. “For you. From that first night.”

“Oh God, Sam…,” she rasped. She went to his waist and pulled his thin sweater up over his head in a fast, fluid motion, dropping it to the floor. He had on a gray T-shirt underneath, which he yanked off and threw across the room before diving back to her mouth.

The sweetness had evaporated, replaced by their building
mutual
desire and aching need. Finally, her reticence and shyness were
gone. Her fingers raked across the muscles in his shoulders and trailed down his arms. She ran her hands along his chest as she kissed him back, nipped at his bottom lip as he had hers, then took it between
her teeth and sucked. A deep groan escaped him and he dug his
fingers into her hips. She pulled away to grasp his chin, and pushed it back with a commanding motion so she could greedily kiss and lick her
way down his throat. Her other hand trailed down his bare chest to his belly, teasing, tantalizing, leaving nerve endings on fire in its
wake.

The jolt shot through him like lightning. Lydia was taking what
she wanted, starting to let go at last. When she nipped at him
roughly,
scraping at his skin with her teeth, he recognized that she didn't
want to be handled gently anymore, she wanted to be
handled
. She wanted him just as fiercely as he wanted her, and she was losing herself just as rapidly as he was. Smiling with satisfaction, he breathed her name and half lifted her to fit her against him, letting his hands glide over the smooth silk of her blouse before stripping it off her in one expert action. Her large breasts were gorgeous in a lacy black bra, and as
delectable as he'd remembered. He couldn't get enough; he let
himself drown in the feel of her. His mouth took as his hands roamed. They kissed frantically, almost grabbing at each other, restraint dissipating in a few heated seconds.

Sam moved down to devour her neck and skimmed his fingers
up her back. He felt her quiver under his touch, felt her hot sigh
against his skin, and could barely contain himself. She was wrecking him. He slipped a finger beneath each of her satiny black bra straps and brought them down, trailing his mouth provocatively along her skin
as he deftly unhooked the clasp at her back. As the garment fell
away
from her, she curled her fingers tightly in his hair. He heard her
whisper his name, an erotic pleading. She gasped as he caressed and kissed
her, possessing her, making her his. Holding her, he kissed his way
down
her neck, along her chest, down to her breast. When he took the tip
into his mouth and sucked, he felt her whole body shudder and heard her low moan from deep in her throat.

Her hands fell to his shoulders, her fingernails raking across the hard muscles there as she arched her back, pressing into him to give him more of her.

Lydia couldn't think, and didn't want to. All she knew was that she was exploding with heat, with need. She had to have him inside
her. It had been so long—she couldn't wait another minute. She
reached
down to brush her palm against the intoxicating hardness of him
through his jeans and felt the groan rip from his throat, vibrate
through his lips that were still closed around her nipple.

“Sam,” she breathed, “Take me to bed now. Right now.”

He moaned her name and moved back up to cover her mouth with his in a powerful, intense kiss. His mouth didn't leave hers as he carefully edged her backwards across the suite. Somehow he got them both through the bedroom door without ever letting her go.

The skyscrapers outside provided the only light in the room, streaming bluish-white through the windows. The only sound in the
welcoming darkness was of their heavy breathing as they both
reached down to open each other's jeans, almost in a frenzy. He kissed his way down the length of her body, his hands running down her sides
to ease her jeans down over her hips. His mouth traveled along her midriff, leaving a trail of hot kisses as he pushed her jeans all the
way down. He knelt before her, his tongue making lazy circles around her navel as he helped her step out of her clothes.

She trembled under his touch and wondered if he felt it,
wondered if he knew what he was doing to her. How he completely owned her
right then, how much she wanted him. Her hands gripped his
shoulders for support as he flung her jeans away, then ran his hands back up her legs with torturous slowness. She could only moan as he cupped
her bottom and squeezed before stripping her satin panties off.
Hands on her hips, he pressed his lips to her warm, damp center for an intimate kiss and she cried out; her whole body shuddered beneath his hands, and her fingers dug into his skin as she struggled to stay upright. He kissed and licked her there a few more times before he rose to his full height, practically tore off his own jeans and boxer briefs, and all but flung her onto the bed.

Their mouths crashed against each other's in a fiery match,
desperate,
insistent. Finally naked and laying in each other's arms, they both relished the feel of their warm bodies, aligned at last, with no
barriers between them. Their hands and mouths roamed everywhere, taking, grabbing, their breathing turning to ragged panting as they explored and ravaged each other.

Sam slipped his hand in between her legs and stared into her eyes as he slipped a finger inside her. A guttural moan tore from her
throat as her back arched. He kept stroking her, mesmerized by her fiery responses to his touch. Her eyes met his; his gaze was locked on her. He watched her face as her passion rose and heightened. Her eyes slipped closed and she whimpered in ecstasy.

“You have to stop,” she gasped. “I won't—Oh God—it'll be too soon—”

He smiled seductively and murmured into her ear, “You're
gonna come more than once tonight. I promise you that.”

She shuddered and moaned in response. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as she writhed helplessly beneath him. He kissed her
neck, her mouth, and she held onto him as if for her life. When he
eased
two fingers inside and circled her most sensitive spot with his
thumb, her breath came in strangled pants and her hips bucked. Rational thought disappeared; she was ruled only by sensation.

“Let yourself go,” he whispered against her mouth. He kissed her lips as the pace of his fingers increased, relentless, ruthless. Her
hips rocked with his rhythm and she moaned his name, sending flames of need cascading through him. “I wish you could see what I see right now… you’re so beautiful.” He didn't take his eyes off her face. “Yes, Lydia… let go… come for me.”

She came with a powerful cry, clinging onto him as the
sensations battered her, washed over her, and swept her away. He lowered his
lips onto hers to take her moans into his mouth, continuing his
torturously
wonderful stroking until he felt her shudders begin to slow and
subside. Before she could say a word, before she could catch her breath, he rolled away to reach to the night stand where he'd left the condoms.
Opening one, he quickly got it on and pushed himself inside her
with a low groan.

She wrapped her legs around him, welcoming him. It had been
so long; her mind blurred as the sensation of him filling her
consumed her. He felt so damn good. Her name fell hoarsely from his lips as he thrust, deep and hard. She raised her hips to draw him deeper inside and kissed him, whispered to him, held on to him. He moaned as he moved inside her, again and again, his hot mouth trailing kisses along her skin. The primal rocking of their bodies quickly brought
him to release, and he buried his face in her neck as the groans
ripped mercilessly from his throat. Overwhelmed, she peaked again and cried out as they rode the wave together, straining against each other to make it last as long as they could.

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.

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.