by Jenn Hughes
Sam smiled and pointed over her shoulder. “The master bath is in the bedroom, through there. And, before you ask, let me clear something out of the way—I have a brand new box of condoms in the bedroom. I want tonight to be perfect for you, and I want us to be open and honest about everything. No stress, no worries.”
No man had ever been concerned about bringing up that topic first. For some reason, protection had always been another one of her responsibilities, an interruption in the heat of the moment to assure her safety. But Sam took away the burden. He put what she needed first. That felt so damn strange. And she loved it.
She held his face in her hands, and quietly said, “Sam Owens, this night is already perfect.”
As she turned to go, Sam grabbed her hand. “If you’re looking to slip into something a little more comfortable, just grab one of my shirts in the closet and put it on. Then I still get to unwrap my gift.”
Oh. God. Yes.
Lillian nodded, and then walked into the bedroom. She found a gray T-shirt in Sam’s closet, an old one that would fit her like a gown and smelled like him. She held it to her face and breathed in the scent—summer breeze fabric softener and Sam. Perfect.
In the bathroom, extracting herself from the dress and all the undergarments took longer than she expected. She needed a manual. But, after several fraught minutes spent wrestling with her evening gown and undergarments, she stood naked in Sam’s bathroom.
The sight in the mirror made her frown. Soooo many red creases in her skin. She looked like a newborn Shar-Pei. But Sam’s gift unwrapping idea bought her a few extra minutes to let her body recover beneath his T-shirt—and it allowed her to get excited at the thought of him pulling on her bow.
Packaged in Sam’s shirt and her engine revved, Lillian finally opened the bathroom door and found Sam seated on the edge of his bed. When he saw her, the poor man’s jaw dropped. His eyes traveled down her body. Such intense scrutiny made her restless, and she twisted the jersey material of the shirt. He noticed. Sam held up his hands and crooked his fingers, beckoning for her to come over. Lillian obeyed, pulling the hem of the T-shirt down a bit more.
She stopped in front of him, inches away and waiting for him to make the first move. She didn’t wait long. His warm hands gripped the backs of her thighs and traveled up. He rose from the bed and Lillian unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt. Then she calmly slipped it off and tossed it aside. Scripted like one of the buildups to the big sex scene in all her favorite movies.
Sort of. Basically, she ripped it off, and then accidentally threw it onto the lamp on the nightstand. The lamp toppled over and crashed onto the floor. Lights out. Scripted like the big sex scene in a romantic comedy about a klutz with bad aim.
“Oh, God,” Lillian groaned. “Sorry.”
She started to pick it up, but Sam grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back. “Don’t you dare. Forget about it. I don’t want your body out of my hands until at least tomorrow afternoon.”
He kissed her and Lillian forgot about the lamp. Everything else, too. Sam rubbed his palms across her skin and under her shirt while Lillian concentrated on unbuckling his annoying belt.
Belt off.
Pants on the ground.
Only a pair of sexy black briefs remained, and they left nothing to the imagination.
Sam stepped back, smiling devilishly in the low light from the living room. Then he circled her. A wolf circling its prey. Lillian didn’t make a move, her body a live wire, tense and tight and ready for his touch.
She kept still and enjoyed every second of his inspection. When he stopped behind her, his hands slipped around her waist to her stomach. Then up they went, lightly grazing her breasts. She drew in a shaky breath when he reached down and grabbed the hem of the T-shirt.
Then he pulled it off, tossed it aside, and there she stood in her birthday suit. Sam walked back around and stopped in front of her again. He studied her body. Every inch of it. And she wasn’t ashamed. Or insecure. He liked what he saw. And that made her feel amazing.
Lillian rushed forward and grabbed him, desperate for the feel of him against her. A slow, hot kiss gave way to a frantic frenzy of lips and tongues and cavorting hands. Sam picked her up and gently laid her on his bed, the covers tossed back and out of the way.
They explored one another. Like an expedition into the Amazon. Hot. Sweaty. And there was definitely an anaconda in the room.
Lillian’s fingers traced the trail leading into the unexplored territory of his underwear. She slipped her hand in and felt him, stroking every inch of him until he moaned. As she fought with his underwear, pushing and pulling to slide them off, Sam went for her breasts. One after the other. Licking. Flicking. He toyed with her. Her nipples ached from it. She forgot about the underwear and held his head in her hands, focused on the feeling of his tongue tasting her skin.
One of his hands slid between her legs and touched her. Touched that throbbing spot. The moan button. He pressed it. She moaned. Repeat.
“Know any combinations, Sam?”
His lips smacked as he pulled away from her nipple. “Every game has different combos. What works in one,” he whispered, gently massaging her with his fingertips, “doesn’t necessarily work in another. You have to learn them. Practice them.”
He crawled down her body. Their eyes were locked on one another as he slowly made his way down, his face hovering inches above her.
“And with enough practice,” he said quietly, pushing her legs apart, “you can win any level.”
Hot breath teased and fingers flicked that wet, sensitive part of her. She writhed on the bed. Twisted the sheets. He was about to win her level. With bonus points. And extra ammo.
Lillian lost track of time, closing her eyes and sliding into the rhythm of the moment. When she felt herself at the top of a roller coaster, ready to crash down, she thrust up. Sam stopped. She heard a drawer open and shut. The snap of black briefs being yanked off. The rip of a packet.
Then came the feeling of lips on her stomach. More kisses on her breasts. Her neck. She smiled. When she opened her eyes, she found Sam staring down at her. Smoldering. Gorgeous. They kissed once, gently. And then Lillian pushed her thighs up against him, urging him to move inside of her.
Another kiss, sweet and gentle, and she felt him. Finally. That hardness satisfied the yearning between her legs. He pushed into her, and she rose up to meet him.
Their pace quickened. Lillian bent her legs, pressing her heels into the mattress for leverage. He worked hard to bring her back up to the peak of the roller coaster. Soon she was at the top. Ready to drop.
Sam whispered her name. Lillian only moaned in response. Faster and faster they moved together. And then she went plummeting. Her entire body shuddered. It felt like exhaling after holding her breath too long. Like ten years too long.
She cried out his name and whispered for more. Sam kissed her neck. His exhausted breaths tickled her skin. But Sam had stamina—he was hard again and ready for round two in seconds. A quick condom change and they were gloriously back in action. He pressed into her with the same crescendo of rhythm, his need electrifying her body.
Climax came again. With it came another wave of exhaustion. Lillian relaxed, warm and completely satisfied with her body perfectly fitted against Sam’s.
The panting subsided. Sam rolled over onto his back. He lay there for a minute before getting up and heading into the bathroom. When he came back, he crawled into bed and scooted closer.
Warm arms wrapped around her. Sam kissed her forehead and then let his head flop down onto the pillow. Lillian smiled. He looked so sweet. And proud of himself. And tired.
So she had to tease him. Just a little.
“Ready for level three?”
His eyes widened. “Really? Already?”
“I’ve lived long enough to know what I want, and I don’t like waiting for it,” she said, leaning over and kissing his chest and then his neck, sticky with sweat. “And you’re what I want.”
Sam’s wide eyes met her own. “Okay. Three minutes. Two if you keep doing that.”
Lillian laughed and kissed him on the lips. “Take all the time you need. You’re worth the wait, Sam Owens. And we’ve got all night. And tomorrow. And tomorrow night . . . ”
“We’ve got forever, beautiful.”
Minutes of pure relaxation passed. Sweat cooled on Lillian’s skin, and she shivered. She turned onto her side, and Sam spooned from behind, cradling her tightly in his arms.
“God, we’re good together,” he whispered, kissing the back of her neck.
Lillian smiled. They were perfect together. So perfect . . . she started to worry.
Chapter 30
Wonderful Winter Hinterland
Something tickled Sam’s nose.
Someone stirred next to him.
Sheets swished. A satisfied sigh filled the morning silence.
And then Sam woke up in an automatically uncomfortable panic. Hurry up. Wake up. The usual routine ran like a ticker tape through his brain: small talk, order breakfast delivery, mention the pile of work to be done at the office, then tell her to stay awhile but lock the door behind her when she leaves . . .
Sam’s eyes fluttered open. Time for a new routine. The woman in his arms wasn’t like the others. Threat levels down. Lillian Walker deserved far more than a typical early morning brush-off.
He relaxed. No need to sneak out of the room like a secret agent in a supervillain’s lair. In fact, while she stretched beside him, his mind raced with ways to keep her right there for as long as possible.
He squeezed her gently, and she stopped wriggling. Then Sam kissed the top of her head, her hair tickling his nose again. A wonderfully weird warmth built up inside of him. He couldn’t find a damn thing wrong. Nothing seemed out of place, and Sam was an absolute master at finding problems with any situation.
Too warm.
Too cold.
Too clingy.
Not Lillian. The perfectionist had finally found his perfection.
Lillian squirmed again, and he felt her turn over in his arms. Then he felt those eyes burning into him. He cracked one eye open to take a peek and found the most beautiful sight. Better than the victory of watching final story scenes play out after hours of hard-fought gaming. Better than any billion-dollar business deal. Lillian’s good-morning smile had them all beat, hands down.
Her disheveled hair framed her face. The chocolate browns and deep reds radiated in the morning light, and reminded Sam of how good it felt to run his fingers through her hair the night before. Without a word, she kissed him, a slow kind of sunrise kiss warming him even more. But then she pulled away and scooted over to the side of the bed.
“Not yet,” he begged, grabbing her and pulling her back over to him. She laughed, and he silenced her with another kiss. And another. And another.
As he peppered her lips with short kisses, she told him, “I need . . . to . . . get up. Let me attempt . . . to look . . . decent.”
“Decent is the last thing I want you to look like.”
Lillian grinned. “We have all day for that, unless you have other plans.” She moved to the edge of the bed again, this time stealing the sheet and then wrapping it around herself when she stood.
Sam watched her walk around the bed. Stupid sheet. He was tempted to tear it away. Pull her back onto the bed and pick up where they’d left off . . . but he probably needed to stretch first since that required some flexibility. And she had a smug look on her face.
Lillian probably expected him only to remain preoccupied with her body, keeping her in bed to satisfy himself. Time for a little surprise. Sam refused to be predictable to Lillian. He flopped back onto the bed and lay there casually, slipping his hands behind his head.
“Maybe I do have other plans.”
Lillian stopped halfway to the bathroom. “Oh. Really?”
He heard the suspicion in her voice. A sort of nervous hesitation, like someone preparing to walk into a haunted house. Sam paused. Not to drag out the tension. He just didn’t have any plans other than to keep Lillian in bed. He racked his brain, trying to think of something to take her by surprise.
No, not a movie. At least not first thing.
No gaming. She’ll expect that.
Finally, a strike of creative entertainment lightning hit him right in the gray matter. “Have you been to Foxcroft Park at the edge of town lately? Since Thanksgiving?”
“Um, no. I read in the paper about a yearly Christmas festival or something there, but I haven’t had the time to check it out.”
Sam sat up in bed and smiled. “It’s more than a festival. For the entire month of December, the park is transformed into the Winter Hinterland.”
“Isn’t it usually called a Winter Wonderland?”
“Not in Port Bristol. The hinterland is what the settlers called the unexplored backcountry away from the coastline. Rustic, rural. That’s the theme of the thing. Every year the town turns back the clock on Foxcroft Park so people can enjoy a more traditional, tech-free Christmas. There’s ice-skating and sleigh rides and crafts and all kinds of things. We should go.”
The sheet slipped from her fingers and nearly fell to the ground, much to Sam’s delight. He wanted a daylight peep show. Too bad Lillian managed to grab and reposition it.
“Tech-free Christmas? Don’t you hiss and turn to ash at things like that?” she joked.
“I’m not that bad. In fact, Origin is the Hinterland’s biggest sponsor. The locals weren’t thrilled when I decided to build the headquarters here, so I’ve tried to invest as much as possible back into the community. History stuff and festivals and things. But I haven’t been to see it.” He jumped up from the bed and ran over to her, eliciting a laugh when he caught her up in his arms. “I’m all for trying new things now. With you.”
“Sleigh rides and crafts sound fun. Ice-skating I’m sure will be fun for you. You’ll get to watch me fall on my ass a dozen times . . . Let’s do it. But I’ll have to go home and change because I only have my evening gown here and ice-skating in that seems pretentious.”
After a late breakfast, a quickie, and then a trip to Lillian’s apartment for a wardrobe change and another quickie, Sam drove her to Foxcroft Park. Located on the outskirts of town, the park remained relatively forgotten for the better part of the year. A hidden gem used mainly by older folks and the families who lived nearby, the heavily wooded area exploded with activity after Thanksgiving.
Over the holidays, the entire town crowded onto the park’s five-acre lawn to explore the tented Christmas village. December had dished out several heavy snows and a continual freeze, leaving the trails around the park in perfect condition for horse-drawn sleigh rides. The frozen ponds managed to support the weight of dozens of ice-skaters. All the promotional advertising he’d paid for made it sound pretty cool.
But the look of childlike joy on Lillian’s face when they pulled into the parking lot told Sam it must be a little better than cool. He patted himself on the back for coming up with the idea.
It was late afternoon and the crowds had thinned. Pillars at the entrance, topped with glowing gas lanterns and festooned with garlands and ribbons, beckoned. Lillian jumped out of the car and then ran around to his side.
“Come on! Let’s go!” she yelled, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the gate.
Once inside the park, they walked from tent to tent. Each one had something a little different. First, they sampled the Christmas cookies and festive snacks. Then they watched the craftsmen weave baskets and make candles and things. Sam held Lillian’s hand almost the entire t
ime. He followed her from one activity to another, and enjoyed every single thing she suggested.
As a sleigh carried them through the woods, they snuggled underneath a heavy wool blanket and watched the sunset through the trees. But Sam paid little attention to the landscape. He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman next to him. Lots of kiss thievery occurred.
Just call me Robin Hickey.
But when Rudolph the horse decided midway through the trek he’d had enough and refused to budge, the romantic part of the ride ended. Lillian laughed hysterically as Sam and the driver spent several minutes trying to nudge him along. She laughed loudest when Sam pushed on Rudolph’s hindquarters while the driver tempted the horse with an apple. Sam had never been so dangerously close to a horse’s butt.
After backing a safe distance away from Rudolph’s rear, Sam couldn’t help but smile and toss a snowball her way. The move set off World War III. Lillian clobbered him.
“Okay! Okay! I’m waving a white flag,” Sam yelled, brushing snow from his shoulder.
“You have to say it,” Lillian shot back, tossing another snowball in her hand.
“Never.” Her arm cocked back. “Hold up! Okay, fine . . . I suck at snowball fights.”
“And who’s the best?”
“You are,” he mumbled.
She dropped the snowball and walked over to him. Then she gave him a big, warm kiss, thawing his pride. “But who’s the best at making me moan?” she whispered in his ear.
Sam grinned. Big. “I am,” he replied, beaming with pride.
“Well then, let’s get back to the park and try ice-skating. After that, we’ll go to The Electric for Revenge of the Xalaxi. And then you can take me home and prove your prowess all over again.”
