Loving Lydia (Atlantic Divide)

by Saxon, Diane

  Women and their damned trick questions. What was he supposed to say? Woman enough? There had never been any doubt about that. Take him? He prayed morning, noon, and night. Before his muddled brain could drag his thoughts away from sex, she shrugged his limp hand off her arm and moved in close, her eyes firmly fixed on his. Her neat little fingers reached up and took hold of his shirt, jerked him closer, and wrenched him down toward her.

  “I can take you anytime, pal. Question is…” She ripped open his shirt, small blue buttons popped off into the hay. “…can you take me?”

  “Don’t do this Lydia, I haven’t got enough self-control left. I can’t be gentle.”

  “Who asked for gentle?”

  Fusing her mouth to his chest, she sucked and then nipped him none too gently with her sharp little white teeth. His hands grabbed her shoulders, and he hauled her back.

  “You have to stop right now! Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  As though it was a revelation to herself, she grinned wildly back up at him, her green eyes sparkled with fire.

  “I do believe I do.”

  She reached up, simply fisted her hands in his hair, yanked his face down to hers, fixed her lips against his, and took. As his hands dropped away from her shoulders, she launched herself against him before he could think of another retreat. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she pulled him tight against her. He felt the very moment when the reins broke and his desire surged free.

  Her mouth was too busy ravaging his face for her to notice him stagger under her onslaught. He took a few steps forward, his knees too weak with desire, so he threw them both unceremoniously into the soft depths of the freshly laid straw. Taking advantage of that weakness, she flipped him over and straddled him. Her quick fingers ripped the front of his jeans open.

  Never being one to let weakness overtake him, he deftly flipped her back again and took pleasure in the shock that flickered behind her eyes. As his mouth took hers savagely, he thrilled at the shudder that rippled through her and chuckled wickedly as he let her flip him over again to complete her task of getting him naked as quickly as she could and as fast as he needed.

  He’d thought of his lust for this woman as dangerous and damaging, but realized that when that passion was matched equally, there could be nothing but pleasure, deep, dark, and satisfying pleasure. With a lustful groan, he realized she’d only managed to rip his jeans down to his knees as she furiously tried to get her own off while still straddled across his hips, so he obliged her by flipping her over again. He made short work as he stripped her boots and jeans off in one fluid movement, and then swiftly stripped his own boots wrapped in his jeans off the bottom of his legs.

  “Now, Sam, now.” Her voice was desperate, her hands grasped, her nails scraped.

  His lips raced across her flesh, nipped here, sucked there, and blazed a trail down to her naval as he tried to slow down his desperate need to take, take, take.

  “No!” She screeched as she dragged at his body until he obliged and rose up and over her. “Now!”

  Every muscle in his body joined in the party as he plunged inside her bucking, writhing, desperate form. Her hands pummeled his back, and he realized he had unleashed a wild, desperate creature.

  Where he thought he would dominate, she equaled; where he thought he would overpower, she demanded more. Their sweat-slick bodies parried and thrust, the healthy slap, slap, slap of their flesh turned them wilder and faster, their bodies thrashed, their desperation equal, until the power exploded in both of them as the pounding of the rain thrashed on the roof of the barn and the sound of thunder shook the building as bright white lightning shot across the night sky.

  He wasn’t sure if his heart had exploded during that episode, but his breath heaved in and out of his lungs and soughed up his throat. He emitted soft groaning sounds on each exhale. Her body was completely motionless beneath him, her soft curves flattened by his body, and yet he had absolutely no inclination to move away and allow her to breathe. As his own breathing slowed, he felt himself drift to the sound of the rain as it pounded on the barn roof. He idly wondered if it was bad manners to suffocate the woman you had just made passionate love to.

  *

  She’d never had the full weight of a man on top of her before. Her husband had been skinny with a boyish body, undeveloped chest, and gangly limbs. At the age of seventeen, she had been attracted to that physique. She hadn’t realized that it had been mainly due to the ravages of drugs and alcohol and poor diet. He had never stayed still long enough for her to appreciate his form. He had never showed affection. Their relationship had only ever been about sex and power.

  She’d never realized the difference, the sheer magnificence of being overwhelmed by a man’s size, weight, and pure enthusiasm. Although she realized that his enthusiasm seemed to have evaporated as he lay on top of her now, a deadweight. She could hear his deep breathing in her ear despite the sound of the raging storm. His face was tucked into her neck, but every muscle in his body was relaxed, an indication that he had fallen asleep. Every inch of her body was covered by his, and she realized that if she wished to continue to live, she had to move him.

  “Sam, I can’t breathe,” she whispered.

  “Sure you can.” His voice rumbled low, a gentle vibration through his chest and hers. “You wouldn’t be able to talk, otherwise.”

  She felt the dimple deepen in his cheek as he smiled slowly against her neck.

  “I need you to move.” She pushed his shoulder, firmly, without success.

  “Sure, honey, just give me a moment.” he replied lazily.

  Nipping his ear gently, she whispered, “You do know that we didn’t use any kind of protection, don’t you?”

  She’d never known a person be capable of leaping from completely supine to upright as fast as Sam did in that moment, but when he hauled her up to stand face to face with him, she was pretty certain that this man was capable of any physical feat.

  Her heartbeat, which had spiraled back to normal, kicked back up to double time as he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in close. He ducked his head so that his nose almost met hers.

  “Jesus Christ, Lydia, I swear to God that was never my intention. You know there is nothing I would like better than to put my baby inside of you.”

  As she stared into his frantic, caramel eyes, she realized that the fear she thought she should feel simply wasn’t there. Curiosity, possibly interest, but no fear. Perhaps she was still far too relaxed from their love-making, but the idea of his baby held no real fear for her. As though he read her mind, he took advantage.

  “Lydia, I love you.”

  He kissed her short and hard and dragged his mouth away, she suspected before he started making love to her all over again. “But I would never try to get you pregnant without your agreement. I would never try to trap you. You do believe me, don’t you?” Moved by his conviction, she lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. She rubbed her thumb up and down the deep crease where his dimple normally showed.

  “I was the one who took advantage of you, Sam.” At his disbelieving snort, she stood on tiptoe and ran her tongue around the outline of his lips, felt his immediate response, and murmured, “I can take advantage of you any time I like.” She dipped in for a quick kiss. “I enjoyed taking advantage of you.” She moved back and touched his hand.

  “But, I think we should be okay, the timing is probably wrong.” She bent and started to pick up their clothes, handing him his shirt first.

  “Perhaps we should take a little more care though, in future.” She slipped on her underwear as he pulled on his jeans, well aware that she had just given them a future together. A slow smile formed as she envisaged just where that future was about to lead them.

  “Hey, cowboy, why don’t you take me home to bed?”

  Chapter 11

  Excitement and nerves jangled together as Lydia dressed, ready to go out with Sam. Her mother was downstairs watching television with R
osie and Aaron. The children were delighted to have their grandmother’s full attention.

  Tonight it would be just the two of them as Sam had asked her on a dinner date in some uptown restaurant.

  She knew he would propose again. She also knew it was time to be honest and tell him the truth before he proposed so that she was free to accept.

  She stared at herself in the mirror. Her deep, green eyes gazed back. Resolute and determined. Sick with worry. She needed to tell him everything, no matter how painful, no matter what she believed his reaction would be. He needed to know. It was only fair to tell Sam before he committed any further to her.

  Lydia closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them again, the same look was there. This was it. She blew out a breath and turned away from the mirror.

  Her mother was preoccupied with the children, but still managed to give her a knowing look and an encouraging smile as Lydia kissed her children goodnight.

  “Sam’s in the kitchen. He’s already said goodnight to the children. Go on, have a good time.”

  He’d told her he had chosen a restaurant out of town so that there would be less people there, otherwise they would probably never get their meal in peace. He was too well-known in the area, both as a singer and rancher, so the chances were they would meet someone they knew. It was a fair distance from the ranch, just on the edge of the County line, but it was going to be worth it.

  Her heart had given a thrilled leap when he’d said he wanted her to himself, just for a short while.

  They barely spoke on the journey. She tried to stop herself from biting the skin on the side of her thumb as she knew it was a giveaway that her nerves were getting the better of her. Knew that he would see and read her so well.

  He turned on some music, wound down his window, and laid a relaxed arm on the window frame of the car. He soothed her with his beautiful low voice as he crooned to a country song. It made her think of the first day she had met him. She’d fallen asleep to the sound of his mellow voice then. She had no desire to fall asleep now.

  Her eyes scanned the classy restaurant as Sam reversed the car into the parking lot, and she wondered how often he had ever come to a place like this. It confirmed her suspicions that this was going to be an important night. A quiver of trepidation ran through her as he opened the passenger door and gave her his hand. As she stepped out, he leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips before looking deep into her black-lashed, green eyes. She knew he had to see the nerves jangling there. She was positive she could see some reflected in his own eyes. To stop the shake of her hands, she tucked one into the crook of his arm as he led her into the restaurant.

  The dim, hushed atmosphere, golden candlelight, all leant itself to the most romantic assignation she had ever known.

  “One moment please, I’ll check that we have your table ready.” The waitress disappeared, and Sam pulled Lydia into his side, kissed the end of her nose. Powerless to stop herself, she touched her lips to his and felt the ripple of excitement tingle through her veins. In an attempt to distract them both from their mounting desire, she leaned back to peep over her shoulder and around the edge of the seating area.

  “Lydia? Oh my God, Lydia, is that you?”

  With dawning horror, Lydia felt the blood drain from her face. Numb, she extracted herself from Sam, turned her back on him so she could watch the familiar woman dressed in a voluminous black dress and black leggings stride toward them out of the dim light of the restaurant.

  The enormous woman’s voice boomed across the room as she turned to her companion. Her thin, dyed-black hair flipped across her face and lay straggled over her lip and nose piercings. Her deep purple lipstick made her teeth look as though they were glowing in the dark as she descended upon them with all the enthusiasm of a long-lost friend.

  “It’s Lydia Marsden, can you believe it?” Her greasy hair flipped back again as she pinned Lydia in the sights of eyes lined with thick, black kohl. “Lydia, you remember me, don’t you? What a small world it is.”

  Lydia took a step back into Sam, who stood solid behind her. She remained silent as the woman approached and continued at the top of her voice. Of course she remembered her.

  “Frank, you remember Lydia, don’t you? She was married to Greg, the lead singer of Euston Way. She murdered him…” She looked around to see how much attention she had attracted and then whipped back to face Lydia. “…not that I blame you, Lydia, after you caught him with those two women. No one blames you after the hell he put you through.” She nudged her companion and glanced around once again. “We’re just glad to see you’re out of prison so soon, aren’t we, Frank? Jealousy is a strong motive, and he’d messed you around for long enough.”

  Swathes of gray washed in front of Lydia’s vision accompanied by a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she turned and stared at the horrified face of the maître d' and beyond him to the open-mouthed stares of restaurant customers. She couldn’t bear to look at Sam. It would be more than horror she saw in his eyes.

  “Excuse me.” Her voice was weak even to her own ears. “Could you please show me to the powder room?” At the look of puzzlement. “The ladies room, please, the toilet. Excuse me.” She stumbled forward, and the maître d' stepped back away from her, his eyes flickering between her and the woman in black.

  “Hey you, you stuck up bitch, don’t you ignore me. You think you’re better than me? You think you can just walk away when I’m talking to you…”

  Sam stepped forward. Lydia stared at him for a moment. His face was set, eyes cold and hard, his jaw clenched.

  “Ma’am, I suggest you quiet down.” The maître d' put his hand on the woman’s arm. She slapped it off, her lips drew back from her teeth, and she snarled at the little man.

  “Fuck off! Don’t touch me, you jumped up little shit.”

  She poked him hard in the chest. He staggered back a step, and his hand came up to cover his injury. Her feral eyes pinned him to the spot as she puffed her enormous chest out and raised herself to her full height.

  As Sam stepped forward to intervene, Lydia took several steps back and quietly slipped down the hall into the ladies toilet.

  Her hands shook as she raised them to her burning cheeks. She sat on the toilet seat, the stall door locked, and all she could hear was her own breathing, loud and erratic.

  She tried to slow it down. Her hands shook so hard. She linked them together, closed her eyes, leaned back, and tried to concentrate on regulating her breathing.

  She’d just left Sam out there in the restaurant to deal with everything. She was a coward, she told herself, but her shaking hands and her erratic breathing weren’t going to convince her to be brave yet.

  She hated that she felt this way, but the sight of that woman brought the past flooding back in an evil rush.

  Her name was Michelle. She’d been one of the band’s groupies, keen on cocaine, and by the look of her collapsed nose and bloodshot eyes, was still using. She’d greeted Lydia like a long-lost friend, but Lydia knew better.

  The woman had been the bane of her life, a gossip monger. She was almost ten years older than Lydia, and she had honed her vicious tongue to perfection. More than once Greg had come home with some awful accusation, which had invariably been stirred to life by that woman.

  Strange though it seemed that Michelle was here in America, she followed up-and-coming bands around the world, though goodness only knew where she got the money to do it. Lydia had barely noticed Michelle’s companion, but there had been a vague recollection of him being some kind of record company executive.

  Lydia’s breathing started to level out, and she lifted herself off the toilet seat and unlocked the door. She peeped around to make sure that no one was there and then slipped out to wash her hands.

  The deep row of mirrors threw her reflection back at her. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, her mouth trembled. She leaned closer across the bank of sinks and thought that all the effort she had gon
e to tonight to make herself look good had been destroyed in one foul swoop. Stress had taken its toll. What was Sam going to think about all of this?

  She felt her stomach muscles cramp as soon as she thought of Sam. She’d never seen him look so cold and furious. Did he believe Michelle? Whether he did or not, her own reaction had been a dead giveaway. He would have questions that she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to answer right now. She’d not been brave enough to stay and confront Michelle; she’d just slipped away, leaving Sam to deal with it. What a coward. She wanted to go home and see her sister, check that her babies were okay.

  Lydia had no idea how much time had passed, but she thought she had probably stayed way too long.

  As she opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, she heard the quiet murmur of customers in the restaurant. The maître d' had obviously dealt with Michelle and her companion, and there was an air of normality.

  Her knees felt weak as her eyes searched for Sam. The time of reckoning was here.

  The maître d' spotted her and rushed toward her.

  “Madam, the man you arrived with has left with those dreadful people, and I would suggest that you do the same. We really are not that kind of establishment, you know, and I must insist that you leave immediately. I have called the sheriff.”

  Lydia was slow to react. Her eyes met the maître d’s, but her brain took a moment to catch up as he ushered her toward the door.

  She assumed Sam would wait in the car for her, but as she scanned back and forth, she realized that Sam had taken her sister’s car and gone, and she was alone in the dark, empty parking lot.

  Hysteria bubbled in her chest as her dulled mind tried to find a solution. She needed a taxi, but that meant going back inside the restaurant to ask for the use of their phone. She really didn’t think the maître d’ would allow that. He probably wouldn’t allow her to put a foot through the door again.

  She couldn’t phone her sister or parents because they would just panic, and as it had taken her and Sam over an hour to drive there, it was going to be one hell of a long walk to get back. If she started out now in the heels that she wore, it may take her until a week on Sunday to get home.