Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love)

by Gracen, Jennifer

  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.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said breathlessly. “I just… I can’t do this. I can’t. God, Sam, I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

  He dropped his head to nuzzle her neck, trying to calm himself down as quickly as possible. The only barriers between their otherwise naked bodies were her black satin panties. Another minute, maybe less… he immediately recognized that he wouldn’t be able to settle down if he kept lying on top of her, thinking about being inside her, his whole body throbbing with need. He gave her one more kiss before he carefully shifted his weight and rolled off to lie next to her. They laid side by side in the dark, catching their breath, not speaking, trying to regain their composure. The only source of light was from the moon outside, shining softly blue and pale through the large windows and tinting the room with its glow.

  “I’m not trying to be a tease,” she said next to him in the darkness, her rich voice ragged and apologetic. “I’m not trying to give you mixed signals. I’m really not. I just… I can't. I�
��m sorry.”

  “Lydia, it’s okay,” he said, once he was able to speak normally. He leaned up on one elbow and looked down at her with a comforting half smile. “I told you at the start, you call the shots here. I told you if you needed to stop, we'd stop. When I said that, I meant it. We’re good.”

  “I know you did. But I'm sorry if you feel like I led you on only to stop short… if you're angry,” she murmured. “I'd totally understand if you are.”

  “Angry? I'm not angry at all. A little frustrated? Yes. Hell yes.” He laughed wryly. “I really… I wanted you more than I… you feel so damn good.”

  She turned onto her side to face him. “God, so do you, believe me.” She smiled back at him and reached up to gently run her fingers through the dark hair on his chest, then trailed them along his neck. “I mean, considering we’re lying here all but naked together, it’s going to sound ridiculous, but… I can’t sleep with you. I’m sorry. But I’m not going to, not tonight. It’s just not who I am. I need to draw this line, for myself.” She peered at him in the darkness. “You’re wonderful, you really are. And I know being with you, like that, would be amazing; but in the morning, I’d be so mad at myself that it would just ruin it all for me. So…”

  “Hey. It’s okay. It’s fine, Lydia,” he said. “I’m not some college-aged frat boy. I'm not mad at you for wanting to stay true to yourself, it doesn’t sound ridiculous.” He kissed her softly and added with a sultry smile, “Besides. There’s always next time.”

  She let him silence her with another kiss as her mind went utterly blank. Next time? What did that mean? Was he thinking… was he planning to see her again after the weekend? Did that mean he wanted to see her again?

  He pulled back to look into her eyes, tenderly caressed her cheek and pushed her hair away from her face. “But don't leave,” he murmured. “I don’t want you to go yet.”

  “Good, because I don’t want to go yet,” she admitted with a gentle smile.

  He kissed her again, soft and deep. “Don’t go at all. Stay here,” he whispered. Another kiss, a nip at her bottom lip. “Stay with me tonight.”

  “Sam…”

  “I didn’t say ‘sleep with me tonight’,” he said quickly. “Yes, sleep here tonight, but… I want you to stay. In my bed, in my arms, with me.” He flashed a small, sweet grin. “We can just talk until we fall asleep, or we don't have to talk at all. But I'd like you to stay.” He looked deeply into her eyes and kissed her again. “Stay.”

  Lydia sighed in pleasant surrender. “Okay. I'll stay. But I’m not going to be able to actually sleep in this bed with you if we’re both still mostly naked. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want you. I do. A lot. And if you're still naked, I’m going to want to change my mind, and you’ll gladly let me.” She let out a short laugh as she added, “I’m not up to that kind of challenge.”

  “Hmmm.” Sam slowly got out of bed and went to the dresser. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see easily, especially with the help of the rays of moonlight that streamed through his windows. He found the drawers, pulled out a black T-shirt and unrolled it. He held it out to her with a disarmingly cute grin. “Will this do?”

  She smiled, charmed by him. “That’ll be fabulous. Thank you.”

  He handed her the T-shirt. As she thanked him again and pulled it on, he was already going back to the dresser. He crouched down to open the bottom drawer, felt along until he found the pair of blue striped cotton pajama pants he’d put in there, and pulled them on. Then he grabbed the navy T-shirt that went with it and pulled that on over his lean frame. He held out his arms, gesturing to himself for her approval. “Is this better?” he asked her.

  Lydia shook her head, a twinkle in her eyes. “No. You’re too far away.”

  A pleased smile spread on his face, the bright smile that thrilled her. He crossed the room and went to her, crawling across the mattress to her, kissing her as he gently pushed her back into the pillows. When the kisses deepened and grew steamier again, he pulled away; but he smiled sweetly at her to show there were no hard feelings, that he was just respecting her wishes.

  “God, this isn't easy,” she murmured. “I hope you know that. You're delicious.”

  “Ha! Thanks.” He grinned and kissed her once more. “I’m thirsty as hell,” he said abruptly. “Are you?”

  She chuckled. “Now that you mention it, yeah, I am.”

  “I have nothing here,” he said. “I’m calling room service.”

  “Now?” she asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “So? That’s what they’re there for.” Sam rolled away from her, found the phone in the dim light, and dialed the front desk. He placed a small order with room service, then rolled back to her with a playful grin. “So. How we doin’?”

  “We’re doin’ just fine, thank you.” She smiled vibrantly at him.

  They lay in each other's arms, sharing soft kisses and caresses until there was a knock on the door. Sam got up, went to the writing desk to turn on the small light there so he could see better, and answered the door.

  Lydia rolled away, onto her side, to stare out the window. There was a full moon, and it was huge, bright, glowing. “Full moon,” she murmured to herself. “Figures.”

  “Here you go.” Sam was standing over her, holding out a bottle of spring water.

  She turned back to him and sat up. “Thank you.” She opened it quickly and downed almost half of it. Then she recapped it and reached up to smooth her hair down a bit. Sam had already finished two thirds of his water and was making himself comfortable, sitting up in bed next to her, leaning back against the wall for support. He pulled the blanket over his legs, inched in closer to her, then reached for the fruit bowl he’d set on the end table.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” he said as he placed it on the mattress in between them, balancing it on their adjacent legs. They peered together into the large, emerald green glass bowl; it held both purple and green grapes, a Gala apple, two Clementines, a banana, and strawberries. “Ladies first,” Sam offered, smiling graciously.

  “Thank you.” She smiled back, and plucked a few of the purple grapes from the bunch. As soon as she popped one into her mouth, she gave a tiny moan of delight. “Mmm. Oh my God, I didn’t even realize it, but I was hungry. This is totally hitting the spot right now.”

  He laughed and kissed her cheek before taking out the banana. “Guess we worked up an appetite. The fun way.” He winked. “Want to split this with me? Potassium to keep our energy up. Half for each of us.”

  She smirked at the teasing expression on his face. “Actually, I have to admit, my energy is flagging a little. I’m not drunk anymore. You worked the alcohol out of my system. I’m think I’m running on adrenaline and fumes right now.”

  “Then you’re definitely in need of this.” He peeled the banana, snapped it in half, and handed her a piece. She accepted his offering. He ate his half and asked, “So are you warning me you’re going to pass out on me sooner than later?”

  “It’s more than likely,” she said with a rueful grin. “It’s way past my bedtime, and I’ve had too much to drink today, and it’s just been a long day. You better keep me talking if you don’t want me to zonk out on your shoulder.”

  “Okay.” He smiled and took some of the green grapes, then angled himself towards her so he could look at her with ease. She looked slightly tousled, slightly flushed, and utterly gorgeous to him. “God, you're beautiful,” he murmured. He leaned in to give her a delicate kiss, then pulled back and said bluntly, “So tell me about your job.”

  She had to chuckle at his quick shift of tone and subject. “My job?”

  “Sure. It’s a safe topic, neutral enough, right?” He grinned, then tossed a grape up into the air and caught it in his mouth.

  “Nice trick,” she laughed.

  “Thank you. Many years of circus training.”

  She giggled and plucked some more purple grapes for herself.

&nbs
p; “Did you always want to be a teacher?” Sam asked. “Or when you were growing up, did you want to be something else and came to teaching? How did you get there?”

  “Really, I just always loved to read,” Lydia said. “And there aren’t many professions where they pay you to read books. I was an English lit major in college. But as I was preparing to graduate, I realized there weren’t many jobs for an English lit major that didn’t somehow connect to teaching. So I went right back, got my Masters in Childhood Education, and became a reading teacher. I didn't want to teach on a high school or college level, I always liked little kids. Love them, actually. And I like to help people. It seemed like a natural progression.”

  Sam nodded. “Sounds simple enough. And it’s a truly noble profession. I have an aunt who's a teacher, and two of my cousins are teachers too.” He ate another grape. “So do you still like it? I mean, you said you just went back last month after a few years off, right?”

  There was a quick flash in her eyes, something dark he couldn’t name, but he’d caught it. He watched her as she pressed her lips together for a second, in thought. Then she said slowly, “Yes, I still like it.” Her voice had changed. Some of the casual ease had left; her tone was somewhat somber. “In fact, now that I’m a parent, I’m coming back into teaching with a markedly different perspective; in terms of how I see the kids, listen to them, react to them. I have a better, deeper understanding of them now that I just didn’t have before, couldn't possibly.” She put a grape in her mouth and chewed it before she added, “The truth is, I wish I hadn’t had to go back just yet. I wanted one more year home with Andy, to be home with him until he went into Pre-K, until he was in school for the full day… but it didn’t work out that way.” She snorted softly. “Everything went very differently than I’d planned.”