‘I don’t want you to pretend.’
His eyes travelled down to my waist where the knot-tie was the only thing holding the two sides of the front of my dress together.
‘What do you want me to do, then?’
‘I want you to be you. I want you to be honest with me this week. But I also need you to understand that I want to be cuddled. I want to feel special.’
‘I can do that. And you are special, Lucy. I told you that ten years ago. And I’ll tell you that now. Why do you think I couldn’t wait to see you? I don’t normally run after women, but I dropped everything today to be with you. That must tell you something.’
‘Not everything. You met your dad tonight. But that’s fine. I’m not complaining. I’m simply putting the record straight.’
He sighed. ‘Yeah. My dad.’ He shook his head. ‘You wonder why I don’t do relationships. I’ll tell you why. My parents met when they were both eighteen. On holiday, as it happens. But they thought they were in love and they got married within a matter of weeks. Mum had me a year later, and a year after that, they were getting divorced. Mum’s been married four times since then. Dad’s been married three and is currently living with his most recent girlfriend. Tonight, he wanted to ask me if I thought he should get married again. Can you believe that?’
I was so surprised I couldn’t reply right away, but I finally asked, ‘What did you say?’
Sam looked cross and he turned away. ‘I told him that if he wanted the truth, I’d say no. But that we both knew he would do it anyway. And he will. I can guarantee that before this summer is out, I’ll be going to yet another one of my parents’ weddings. Would you like to take a bet on how long this one will last?’
I suddenly understood why Sam didn’t do relationships. At least, I thought I did. His parents were hardly an advert for a good relationship, were they? And definitely not for marriage.
I walked across to him and I slid my arms around his waist. His muscles tensed beneath my touch and he sucked in a breath, and then he spun around and swept me into his arms, kissing me with so much longing, and passion, and intensity that I thought I might faint.
Fifteen
Sam kissed me long and hard, his mouth demanding and taking, and yet also giving back. His arms were wrapped so tightly around me that I was pressed against his firm body and could hardly breathe, but he eased his hold on me as if he suddenly realised he was being too rough, too eager.
‘God, I want you so badly,’ he moaned as his lips moved to my neck and then back to my mouth again.
His arms loosened around me as he ran his hands up my spine and into my hair, easing my head back so that he could kiss the full length of my neck again, and then, he slowly slid one hand down my cheek, and my throat, and across my cleavage, then down to my breast and then, with a quick flick of his fingers, he undid my dress and slid his hand inside.
Now I was the one moaning how much I wanted him, and I kissed his head, his face, his mouth, and then his chest. I tugged at his shirt and pulled it open, kissing the bare skin beneath and sliding my own hands down his torso.
‘Take me to bed,’ I begged, not wanting to make love on the sofa, or the floor of the sitting room in this rental home, notbecause I would object to that, but because I wasn’t sure if we might be visible if my neighbours ventured out into their gardens to play in the snow that had now settled to a depth of at least a few inches on the ground.
Sam swept me into his arms and carried me upstairs in a matter of seconds. He placed me gently on the bed, his eyes appreciating my black lace underwear, but not for long. He removed his trousers in such haste that he tumbled onto the bed and we both laughed at our mutual need for one another.
I had thought the sex we had ten years ago had been fantastic, but this was out of this world. It was as if our bodies had been made to fit together so perfectly, so precisely, so exquisitely, enabling us to attain every last ounce of pleasure.
I had joked that I wanted sex, sex, and nothing but sex, but in reality it was what we both needed. No sooner had we satisfied one another than we wanted each other again. And again. And again. Until we were both so exhausted that sleep eventually overcame us.
I had said I wanted to be cuddled, and Sam had cuddled me. But he’d done so much more than that. He’d softly stroked my hair, and he’d gently kissed the top of my head, while I was wrapped in his arms. And when I got cramp in my leg, he massaged it tenderly until the pain vanished. He got up and made us snacks at ten p.m., and brought me a cup of tea at midnight with some biscuits. He even ran downstairs to get me a glass of water at three in the morning. And he made me coffee and toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast, and then he held me in his arms while we watched the snow falling outside the windows.
Tilly had been right. There had been a blizzard during the night. Not that Sam and I had heard it. But when Sam brought me coffee, he pulled back the curtains I’d drawn before I’d gone out last night, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
‘Are we snowed in?’ I asked.
‘That’s an understatement,’ Sam replied. ‘I can’t see the car park across the lane, let alone my bike. It’s under there somewhere but I’ll have to wait until this thaws, to find it.’
‘Oh no. That’s not good,’ I said.
He grinned at me. ‘It’s not all bad.’ He buried his head beneath the duvet and kissed his way down my body.
Sometime later, after more coffee, we made love again, although I had to remind myself that it wasn’t love, it was sex. Great sex. Mind blowing sex. But just sex. Love didn’t come into this. And yet … I couldn’t help myself.
Sam must have cared about me or he wouldn’t have been so kind and thoughtful and tender, would he?
And every time he moaned my name, it was as if it had come directly from his soul.
Even the way he looked at me made me think he felt more for me than he was prepared to admit.
