After their first coupling, Sam had let Gwenyth sleep for maybe an hour. She’d woken up to the exquisite feel of his lazy, provocative kisses trailing down her backside. A minute later, he’d pulled her to her knees and entered her from behind. Sam’s thrusts had been fast and demanding, as heated and intense as they’d been the first time.
The third time had happened in the middle of the night, spoon fashion. Whereas the previous encounters had been hard and relentless, Sam’s lovemaking that time had been tender, lingering, and seductively drawn out. He had brought Gwenyth to orgasm more times than she’d believed humanly possible.
The fourth and fifth times had occurred first in the shower this morning and then just an hour ago before Gwenyth had started dressing for Harry’s campaign dinner and speech at the University of Tampa this evening. She simply couldn’t fathom from what resources the man pooled his energy. If Sam was anywhere near as tired as she was, they’d both be lucky to make it through the appetizer course tonight, let alone the full meal. And poor Sam, he had to give a speech on Harry’s behalf to boot.
Gwenyth applied her lipstick next then dabbed at her mouth with a tissue to soften the effect. She wouldn’t be seeing Sam again until she arrived at UT because he had agreed weeks past to accompany Harry there. It was just as well. She was having a hard enough time dealing with all that had happened without being in Sam’s overwhelming presence.
On one hand, Gwenyth’s reservations seemed trite and unbelievably stupid to even herself. She’d wanted Sam for as long as she could remember and now here he was in the flesh. Better yet, he was, according to him, crazy about her. On the other hand, Gwenyth had never been the type to give herself over emotionally to a man. Surrendering herself and giving another person a chance to hurt her had never been high on her list of “must- dos.” The truth of the matter was, the fantasy of Sam was a lot easier to deal with than the reality of him. He had the power to hurt her in a way no man but him possessed.
Gwenyth stood up and did a quick once-over in the mirror. She’d never thought of herself as an exceptionally attractive woman, but she was extremely pleased with the way she looked tonight. Her body-molded, floor length black dress was held up by spaghetti straps and flowed to her ankles. The right side was split, showcasing her leg up to the lower thigh. The matching black high heels gracefully arched her feet, causing the muscles in her calves to grip sexily. Her gold-streaked tawny hair was loose tonight, the curls cascading down in ringlets to just above her waist. A single gold bangle around her wrist and matching gold hoop earrings completed her ensemble.
Gwenyth turned off the bulbs that surrounded the vanity, grabbed her purse, and headed downstairs to wait for Candy to pick her up. Fifteen minutes later, Gwenyth sat in the passenger side of Candy’s trendy red SUV and smiled over to her. “You look great, Can.”
Candy blew out a loud, popping bubble, then smiled. “Thanks, Gwen, so do you.” She made a right on Kennedy, sped up the SUV to give the finger to the driver beside her who’d cut her off a mile back, then forgot him just as quickly. “So,” she beamed, looking at Gwenyth out of the corner of her eye, “do you like my latest book? Be honest now. I can take it.”
Gwenyth grinned. “Uh huh. I was just getting to the big scene last night when you- know-who interrupted me.”
Candy giggled. “Sam ‘The Slam’ Tremont?” She turned her face toward Gwenyth long enough to wiggle her eyebrows mischievously at her. “Does he live up to his nickname, ‘The Slam?’”
Gwenyth’s cheeks pinkened. Only her best friend would have the audacity to ask her such an intimate question. “Yes,” she admitted somewhat embarrassed, “and then some.”
Candy slapped her knee and giggled excitedly. “Do tell.”
“Let’s just say that the man has stamina. It went through my mind more than once last night that he could give any hero you’ve ever penned a run for his money.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding.”
Candy grinned. “I’m happy about this Gwenyth, very happy. You deserve this more than anyone I know.” She turned on her signal and swerved the car into the left lane, preparing to turn into UT’s entrance when the light changed. “I was beginning to worry about you there for a while.”
Gwenyth arched a shapely brow. “Oh?”
Candy shook her head as if in reprimand. “Your dates were becoming more and more bizarre. It was starting to look like you were picking out men based on the sole criteria of how unlikely they’d be to make you feel anything for them.”
Gwenyth winced at her insight, but said nothing.
“I mean, let’s take Trevor for example. Good grief, Gwen, that guy still lives with his mother!”
That Gwen had dumped Trevor the very evening she’d been assaulted by Webster Carr in the woods mattered little at the moment. They’d remained friends and she felt obliged to defend him. “Lots of men live with their mothers, Can.”
“At forty-two?”
“Yeah. Well. Trevor is sensitive to his mother’s needs.”
“One has to wonder how sensitive.”
“Candy! That’s a terrible thing to imply!”
Candy unabashedly grinned. “Whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively through the air as she made a left turn into UT’s entrance. “Does Sam know you and Trevor broke up?”
Gwenyth worried her lower lip. “Come to think of it, no. We haven’t discussed him since that night in the kitchen.”
“Since that night where you let him mistakenly believe you two were still seeing each other as more than friends, you mean.”
“Something like that,” Gwenyth muttered.
Candy laughed. “Take it easy, Gwen. I’m on your side. It’s good for Sam to realize that you won’t be an easy catch.”
