Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
“Dammit, Bernie, you'd think you
were my mother for heaven's sake.
It's
probably caused from the shock of getting cut and you're hurting me.”
Jerking her finger free, she stood
hugging herself beneath her breasts trying to calm the nerves jumping around
inside like Mexican jumping beans in hopes she had camouflaged her true
feelings.
Keen sense told
Bernie all she needed to know.
Like it
or not she was caught in a Bermuda Triangle.
Whom did Sam think she was kidding?
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Bernie and Peter lingered chatting
over more wine.
Brad sat on the floor
his back leaning against the couch where Sam had curled up, his closeness, the
wine, and the fire encompassing.
The first to notice Sam had dozed,
Bernie advised Peter they should leave.
Concerned about the consequences of leaving Brad and Sam alone Bernie
wore a stern look of disapproval.
Her obvious
insinuation painted a devious grin on Brad's face.
Crossing his heart, raising two fingers, he
pledged, “I'll be right behind you.
Scouts honor.”
There was no way of knowing
precisely how long he sat watching Sam sleep.
Before slouching into the comfort of the cushions, she had removed the
pins from her hair allowing it to fall freely.
The illumination of the tree's lights made her appear a vision.
Stretched out on the immense sofa, her
perfectly shaped form seemed smaller.
Visions of how she might feel beneath him played heavily on his
mind.
Watching her firm round breasts
slowly rise and fall he remembered how perfectly they fit in his hand.
Realizing he was only torturing himself, he
replaced the reflections with sentimental ones of home.
Family would be together tonight
celebrating with Eggnog, gifts, and his mom's homemade specialties.
Nieces and nephews would be running around,
screaming, laughing, and scrambling for their turn on grandpa's back.
He had missed three years of fussing with his
customary Santa's costume hoping the children would not recognize him.
Flashing cameras would take the traditional
family pictures, portraits that would be complete if only Sam could be in them.
Ted was indeed a lucky man.
Why did it take him so long to realize the
importance of family, was it because no one had made it seem worthwhile before
Sam?
A cool draft administered a cruel
reminder such thoughts were worthless.
He should leave.
One last glance
at the sofa he concluded the leather would be far from comfortable as winters'
icy teeth nipped at Sam's exposed skin.
What harm would there be if he simply nestled her into a warm bed before
leaving.
Curling his arms under her it amazed
him how easily he lifted her, how tiny she felt in his embrace.
Sam did not wake, she merely moaned and
snuggled her head beneath his chin her arms around his neck.
The soft texture and fragrance of her hair,
her touch more than he could bare.
Suddenly his knees seemed weak.
Knowing this was as close as he would ever allow her to be, he
contemplated sitting and holding her.
At
last, she was where he wanted her, safe in his embrace, safe only because she
could not respond to his touch. He also knew the longer he held her, the harder
it would be to let go.
Languidly
carrying her down the hall, he placed her gently upon her bed.
The handsome knight scooping her
from the dungeon with powerful arms held her securely against his chest, the
smell of him, undeniably male, his breath warm against her cheek.
It did not matter where he was taking
her.
Carefully laying her upon a fur rug
it was then she opened her eyes to see the magnificent creature saving her. She
could not identify him his face veiled by the darkness of the castle.
He would take her as his reward, she was
positive.
Instead, he moved away.
“No,” she murmured out-loud, clutching his
neck to tug him closer.
“Please stay.
Don't leave me,” she whimpered.
Startled by Sam's words, Brad reached up to
free her arms from his neck.
Again she begged,
“No!
Please kiss me, hold me.
Make love to me.”
Sam's pleading was like a serrated
knife slicing across his heart.
“Princess, it's me, Brad.
You are
dreaming.
You have had too much to drink.
Open your eyes.”
A deep, dreamy voice
made him shudder.
“My eyes are
open.
I know it's you.”
Through the bedroom windows, the
city glow casting a spotlight upon Sam's face was sufficient to reveal her eyes
closed.
Nevertheless, she refused to
release her hold.
Even before her lips
parted, he could taste her sweetness.
Temptations force lowered his lips to hers where they laid siege to
first the upper, then the lower, softly, gently like a butterfly until covering
them completely.
Honey coated velvet
drove him to the brink of insanity.
Never did anyone entice Sam so.
With the softest of movements Brad's lips
nurtured hers coaxing, lifting, pressing.
The tip of his tongue drawing the lines of her mouth never demanded more
than she would have willingly surrendered.
Since he crashed her world, she knew, oh, not admitted, not consciously,
it was there the awareness, and she wondered why Ted never elicited the same
responses, or sadly, if he ever would.
Brad memorized the outline of Sam's
mouth, the taste, knowing he would never allow this to happen again.
Despite his heart signaling danger his mind
screamed, “Look no hands.”
It worked
until the slightest flick of Sam's tongue against his drove an exquisite pain
to the shaft of his being.
His heart
snatched control.
Burying her mouth
beneath his, his tongue easing her lips apart merged their moans.
The hands holding her waist slid up her rib
cage, one going to her back to press her to him the other covering a breast.
Sam's unveiling eyelids revealed no signs
of surprise or anger, only the undeniable fog of desire.
She wondered if she was still asleep, still
dreaming and yet, she knew all along when she opened her eyes, the knight would
be Brad.
Surprising himself,
the moment her gaze met his, Brad withdrew.
Touching his lips with her
fingertips trapped his words of regret.
He had moved the earth from beneath her creating aftershocks splitting
her in two.
She would have been powerless
to stop him had he decided to take her, the difficulty greatly diminished by a
willing accomplice.
Something told her
all along he would not, a realization making her feel hollow inside.
Brad, her gallant knight, would then be
compelled to make a commitment whether he wanted to or not.
Taking his friends fiancées’ virginity would
be an unpardonable sin, and, if he had, Sam would have known the stories Ted
told were true.
Instead, clasping her hand he raised
it to his mouth where he brushed the fingertips with his lips feathering kisses
to her palm where his mouth lingered.
When he spoke, Sam closed her eyes to ease the sting of tears leaking in
streams at the corners and sucked her lips between her teeth to suffocate
pending sobs before they became audible.
The maestro of seduction had introduced her to senses she had never
experienced before and for the rest of her life she would always wonder how it
would have been.
“This is wrong,
Sam.
We both know it.
It is the wine, the season, mixed with
loneliness.
Please forgive me.”
Easing off the bed,
covering her with the comforter that he tucked around her, he bent to kiss her
forehead.
Opening her eye’s
once more Sam noticed how he stood proud as he forced himself under control,
“Merry Christmas, my love.”
As if he were walking toward a
guillotine, Brad made it to the door frantically twisting and jerking the knob
in his haste to flee.
The door refusing
to open flared his temper.
Frustrated,
his fist landed a loud blow to the wood.
Jamming his eyelids shut, he banged his forehead against what seemed an
impossible fortress breathing deeply to slow his racing pulse.
When he tried again, the door responded.
Flinching at the sound of Brad's
fist against the door, Sam laced her fingers together holding them to her mouth
to imprison words that would have begged him to stay.
The warmth of the comforter did little to
quiet her violent quaking.
The
metallic click of the latch as the door closed spun the combination to the safe
sealing her heart, leaving her frost bit, barren, desolate and more confused
than ever wondering how she could be in love with one man and want another so
desperately.
Weeping uncontrollably
wrung her insides.
Fleeing from the apartment,
purposely leaving his overcoat behind, Brad prayed the icy air would freeze the
memory of what happened until he was far enough away to
Safely thaw it.
Sam's kiss brought to life something strange
and exciting, a feeling he thought no woman could ever ignite in him.
With only a sample of her forbidden fruit, how
could he go on living without consuming it?
What was it he saw in her eyes, tasted on her lips?
Maybe she was not dreaming after all.
Maybe she really knew who it was; maybe she
wanted him as much as he wanted her, just maybe . . .
CHAPTER 37
“DECEMBER,
2010”
By
noon on Christmas Day, Ted arrived arms laden with gifts purchased to alleviate
his guilt.
Sam clinging to him tightly
as if she never wanted his caresses and kisses to end added to his shame.
He would never learn Sam needed comforting
from a long sleepless night due to Brad's departure racking her body with
tremors and sobs.
Delighted
by Sam's passionate greeting, Ted seized the opportunity to permit his hands to
roam over her soft, firm curves.
It was asinine
of him to assume making love to Stacy during the past week had sated him.
Desire stirred anew simply by looking at Sam,
touching her, smelling her.
He found it
difficult to believe in only one week she would be his.
The guilt he felt now making him vow once
married, he would never cheat again.
Sam's
puffy eyes and drawn appearance did little to daunt her beauty.
Obviously, she had missed him, Ted
speculated, wondering if it was too much to hope for she was beginning to yearn
for the love he craved to give her.
Maybe his frequent absences helped her discover she desired him as much
as he desired her.
In
the cozy comfort of the living room, they positioned themselves close together
on the carpet near the tree while they removed the trimmings from their
Christmas treasures.
They hugged and
kissed as the pile of paper, ribbons and bows grew higher.