Snowflakes Over Bay Tree Terrace (Willowbury)

by Fay Keenan

  It didn’t take much, now, for them to lose the last of their clothing, and as she was still sitting in his lap, Florence broke the momentum only slightly to reach into her bedroom drawer and apply, with slightly trembling hands, what she found there. Then, with a gasp and a sigh, she felt Sam thrust up inside her, filling her with his glorious hardness.

  As one of his hands tangled in her hair, the other slid downwards to caress her intimately; sensations that were heightened by the deep, warm presence of his cock inside her. She moved sensuously, rhythmically against his stroking fingers until the pulse of an imminent orgasm built up and she felt the warm, tingling sensations break over her, making her sit even more deeply so that he could feel her come around him. The sensations were exquisite, and as she broke, a moment later so did he.

  Sweating and still joined, Florence brushed Sam’s hair back from his face as they both came back to earth. His eyes were bright and, in their blueness, reminded her of the oceans which he’d travelled in his former job. A small voice inside her head, shushed to the back of her mind for now, questioned how she could have let herself go with a man whose first love had been flying away to sea, but for the moment, she didn’t listen to it. It felt so achingly good to be this close to him after they’d danced around each other for weeks.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Sam asked softly.

  ‘You expect me to put that into words after what we’ve just done?’

  ‘Well, you are an English teacher. I thought that’s what you did for a living.’ His eyes were twinkling, and as he shifted position to slide out of her, Florence laughed.

  ‘Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting this evening to end up quite like this.’ She glanced down, wondering where on earth she’d thrown her knickers. Not that she remembered taking them off. Perhaps Sam had managed to remove them without her even noticing, she had been so swept up in the moment.

  Florence, whose knees were just starting to ache, clambered off Sam’s lap and settled back against the white pillows. She felt peaceful, sated and quite amazingly tired after the adrenaline rush of the performance and then what had, literally, come after.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Sam asked as he sank down on the pillows beside her.

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly. Then, a slight frown creased her brow. ‘You don’t have to go anywhere just yet, do you?’

  Sam smiled. ‘Even if I did, there’s nothing that could drag me away from you and this bed right now.’ He raised his arms above his head and settled back, eyes staring at the ceiling.

  ‘I’m glad,’ Florence murmured, snuggling into his chest. Talking could come later; for now, basking in the afterglow was her number-one priority.

  23

  The winter sunlight flickered in shards through the gaps in Florence’s bedroom curtains as she gradually awoke to the awareness of someone in the bed beside her. For a moment, caught between that blissful state of sleeping and waking, she luxuriated in the warmth of his body, feeling one arm slung casually over her waist where she was lying with her back to him. Stirrings of another kind were taking place under her thick duvet, and she stretched voluptuously, pressing back into the contours of Sam’s body as sleep slipped away from her.

  More glad than anything that she’d decided to just have the one glass of Prosecco post-performance last night, Florence felt clear-headed and decidedly right. What had happened with Sam was not entirely unexpected after the sizzling chemistry of their scenes together during the play, and that unexpected onstage kiss, but she was still surprised that they’d both been so carpe diem about the whole thing and ended up in bed. She wasn’t known for her throw-caution-to-the-wind approach, and Sam had been equally reticent up until recently. But now, with this sleepy, gorgeous man in bed beside her, was not the time to start thinking and overanalysing. There would be plenty of time for that later.

  ‘Morning,’ Sam said sleepily as she rolled over to face him. His face looked pleasantly rumpled, with a smattering of brownish blond stubble on his chin and his unruly hair even more dishevelled by a night of passion.

  ‘Hi,’ Florence replied. She tilted her face upwards for a kiss, and as he brought his lips to hers, she felt her body, and his own, responding.

  ‘You were amazing last night,’ Sam murmured between kisses. ‘I feel like I’ve had the best night’s sleep of my life.’

  ‘Me too,’ Florence replied. ‘Certainly the best sleep since I’ve been here, anyway. Although now Aidan’s stopped blasting my eardrums with Metallica at three a.m., that definitely helps.’

  ‘Oh Christ,’ Sam groaned. ‘I forgot to check in with him last night. I hope he found his way home.’ Casting his eyes around, as if looking for something, his gaze rested on his phone, which had fallen out of his pocket and was resting on the carpet by the bed.

  ‘Do you want to call him?’ Florence asked gently. She could see immediately just how guilty Sam felt that he’d broken their routine of check-ins, even if he had just been sleeping next door.

  ‘No,’ Sam said firmly. ‘He keeps telling me that I have to give him some space, loosen the reins a little. I guess spending the night with you is as good a way to start doing that as any.’

  ‘Besides,’ Florence said playfully, ‘I think he and Tom had quite a late night of drinking planned. I wonder if they made it back at all!’

  Sam laughed. ‘Aidan’s not much of a drinker these days, because of all the medication, but he’s always happy to lead someone else astray if the chance arises.’

  ‘I feel pretty led astray myself,’ Florence observed.

  Sam grinned. ‘You didn’t take that much leading, if I remember last night correctly. I think I was following you!’

  Remembering the way she’d virtually told him to take her up against the wall of the hallway, Florence blushed. ‘Well, we were on a bit of a high.’

  Sam stretched out in the bed, raising muscular arms above his head. ‘We really were, weren’t we?’

  There was an almost imperceptible pause. A question seemed to hang in the air that neither seemed ready to ask just yet.

  Not wanting to break the moment, Florence snuggled back into the crook of Sam’s arm. ‘Can I tempt you to breakfast?’ she said.

  ‘I’d love that,’ Sam replied. ‘But I think I’d better pop next door and check that Aidan made it home first.’ He sat up in bed. ‘Why don’t I do that, and then you can come over and I’ll make you breakfast at my place? If you can walk that far, that is!’

  Florence laughed. ‘I think I can manage that.’ She definitely felt as though she’d had a night of passion, but it was only next door after all. ‘I’ll grab a shower and be over in a bit.’

  ‘Great,’ Sam said. Pushing back the duvet, he cast around for his clothing. ‘I’ll do the same. Half an hour OK?’

  ‘Sure,’ Florence replied. Part of her wanted to drag him back into bed for another round, but she realised that their night together was as huge a step for him as it felt to her, and she knew she needed a little time to process what it might mean.

  Carpe diem, Florence, remember? she thought. Overthinking things at this stage had been her problem before, and she desperately didn’t want to fall into the same trap with Sam.

  She watched him throw on his shirt and pull on his trousers with a mixture of lust and amusement; he was obviously still reeling a little bit from last night as his boxer shorts were crumpled in a pile at the bottom of the bed. Not that it mattered, particularly. She’d fling them in the wash and give them back at a later date.

  As Sam finished buttoning his shirt, he leaned down and gave her a long, lingering kiss. ‘I’ll see you in a bit,’ he murmured, eyes still warm with lust.

  ‘Definitely,’ Florence replied. ‘I hope you find Aidan where he should be.’

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ Sam smiled. ‘And he’s going to rip it out of me for staying out all night. He’s been egging me on for weeks to make a move on you.’

  ‘I’m glad I’ve got his approval!’ Florence laughed.
‘I’d hate to think he wasn’t in favour of us getting closer.’

  ‘That won’t stop him taking the piss,’ Sam replied. ‘I hope you can take it!’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage,’ Florence said. ‘I’ve been teaching teenagers for nearly ten years – I know the best responses to those trying to get a rise out of me!’

  Sam laughed, and Florence noticed just how relaxed that laugh seemed. She felt a warm glow to think that she was responsible for that. Somehow, she just knew that Sam was the kind of person who didn’t let himself go easily, and that last night meant as much to him as it did to her. As he dragged himself away, she lay back against the comfy white pillows of her bed and allowed herself a few more minutes to luxuriate in the afterglow of the night before. Although she’d quite fancied picking up where they’d left off, breakfast at Sam’s would be a decent substitute, and it would put Sam’s mind at rest about his brother.

  24

  Sam was glad he’d checked his coat for his house keys before closing the door at Florence’s. He didn’t fancy knocking at his own front door and facing the embarrassment of Aidan having to let him in.

  As he turned the key in the Yale lock and pushed open the wooden front door, which was slightly stiff from the damp and chilly night, it opened with a loud creak. Closing it behind him, he padded through the hallway, feeling the chill in the air compared to Florence’s cosy home next door. The ancient boiler needed replacing, and was intermittent about firing up in the mornings. Usually, this wasn’t a problem for either Sam or Aidan, as they were both used to the cooler temperatures of ships and barracks anyway, but he noticed the difference between the two houses.

  Just as he was about to head through the hallway to the back of the house, where the kitchen was, he was startled by the sound of a loud snore rending the air asunder. The sound seemed to be coming from the living room. Aidan often fell asleep on the sofa, no matter how much Sam tried to ensure that his brother got a good night’s sleep, so it was quite a surprise, when he pushed open the living room door, to find it wasn’t Aidan lying prone on the settee. There, spread-eagled, broken left foot propped up on the arm of the ancient patchwork sofa, was none other than Tom Sanderson. On the coffee table were several empty bottles of Carter’s Eloise Cider, one of their most notorious and alcoholic varieties, and a half-empty bottle of Sambuca, with two shot glasses and a lighter beside it.

  For a moment Sam debated whether or not to wake Tom, but judging by the bottles, whenever Tom woke it wasn’t going to be pretty. Deciding that perhaps it was better to take breakfast over to Florence’s place, Sam grabbed his phone and texted her, explaining that he’d bring over everything they needed. He didn’t fancy a post-mortem of last night instigated by Aidan and Tom.

  As he wandered up the stairs, he automatically looked through Aidan’s half-open door and was relieved to see his brother was also fast asleep, albeit fully clothed, on his bed. Clearly Aidan hadn’t been so far gone that he’d neglected to find his own room. It had been a long time since Aidan had socialised, and part of Sam was pleased that he and Tom had obviously bonded, even if it was over an excess of cider and Sambuca. Aidan needed a network around him, having been surrounded by one in the army for so long, and for a long time after he’d been medically discharged, Sam had been the only one in the frame. Although Sam would never begrudge Aidan the support, it would take a little pressure off his shoulders if Aidan started getting out and making friends. Berating himself for still seeing Aidan as the prickly fourteen-year-old whose battles Sam, as the older brother, had had to fight at school, he tried to remember that Aidan was nearly thirty, and, despite everything, was more than capable of fighting his own battles these days. But if he and Tom were becoming friends, it would certainly help Aidan to see Willowbury as home.

  But what about me? Sam thought. Would he ever really settle here? Even after a blissful night with Florence, he still couldn’t help feeling like a visitor in Willowbury. How long did it take, he wondered, to truly feel like a local?

  Trying to shrug off these thoughts, which were deeper and far more introspective than they had any right to be after such a wonderful, passionate night, he peeled off his clothes and waited in the chilly air of the bathroom for the shower to warm up. Thankfully, there was plenty of hot water this morning (since Aidan was, as yet, dead to the world), so before too long he was luxuriating in the steam, scrubbing away the excesses of the night before, but still feeling as though he wanted to do it all over again. Perhaps, now he was taking breakfast over to Florence, they’d get the chance for a repeat performance.

  Stepping out of the shower a little time later, towelling himself dry, Sam swiftly pulled on fresh clothes and then headed back across the landing, checking, automatically, to see if Aidan had surfaced yet. Hearing voices downstairs before he got to Aidan’s bedroom door, he stopped. He felt a little bit guilty for eavesdropping, but couldn’t help himself. Peering around the corner, so that he had a direct view down the stairs to the hallway, he was stunned to see Tom, still hobbling but up and about, and Aidan, looking perkier than he’d have imagined, saying farewell in the hallway.

  ‘Let’s do it again soon,’ Aidan was saying. ‘I had a great time last night.’

  ‘I did, too,’ Tom replied. ‘Although I’m not sure that either of us should have drunk quite so much Sambuca and lived to tell the tale.’

  ‘Don’t tell my brother,’ Aidan laughed. ‘He’s such a fucking nursemaid, he’ll only lecture me about how I shouldn’t be mixing alcohol with my meds.’ Sam felt a little bit hurt at having overheard Aidan talking about him like that, but swiftly put it down to bravado in front of Tom. He was, after all, only thinking a few moments ago about how pleased he was that Aidan and Tom had struck up a friendship.

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t really,’ Tom chided. There was a pause between them that seemed loaded with some shared knowledge that Sam, as the outsider, couldn’t quite fathom. ‘I don’t want to have to scrape you up off the floor the next time we go out.’

  ‘Let’s make next time really soon,’ Aidan said.

  ‘I’d like that.’ Tom seemed to want to add more, but at the last moment seemed to think better of it. ‘I’ll, er, see you later.’

  As Aidan walked to the front door to let Tom out, Sam wondered what the two of them could possibly have found to talk about all night. They were from completely different places and perspectives, after all. For the moment, though, all he really wanted to do was to check in with his brother and then get back next door to Florence.

  ‘Good night last night?’ Aidan asked, as he closed the front door and Sam came down the stairs.

  Sam couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face at the question. ‘You could say that.’

  Aidan grinned back. ‘You and me both. So, what are you doing for breakfast?’

  ‘Going back to Florence’s,’ Sam said. ‘Will you be OK?’

  ‘I don’t recall you worrying about that for the whole of last night,’ Aidan teased. ‘I’m sure I’ll be all right in the cold light of day, too.’

  ‘Point taken,’ Sam said, feeling a little bit guilty that he hadn’t even texted Aidan before surrendering to Florence’s arms. ‘But you know where I am if you need me, OK?’

  ‘I do,’ Aidan smirked. ‘Although I’m not sure you’ll want me to disturb you!’

  Sam shook his head. ‘Oh, you should be all right for the time it takes us to eat croissants and drink tea.’

  ‘Croissants, eh?’ Aidan grinned. ‘Where did you stash those, then?’

  ‘At the back of the freezer, so you couldn’t scoff them all during one of your three a.m. snack attacks,’ Sam said. ‘A few minutes in the oven and that’s breakfast sorted.’

  ‘Well, enjoy,’ Aidan replied. Then, with a more serious expression on his face, ‘Look, Sam…’

  ‘Yeah?’ Sam felt his throat constrict slightly.

  ‘I know things haven’t exactly been easy for you since you moved in with me, but it’s gre
at to see you actually start living your life again without worrying about me every five seconds. Florence is a wonderful woman. You should go for it.’

  Sam felt his face burning under his brother’s clear-eyed scrutiny. ‘It’s only one night,’ he said gently. ‘It’s not like we’re getting married.’

  ‘I’ve seen the way you look at her,’ Aidan replied. ‘Your face gets all…’ he struggled, as he sometimes did, these days, to remember the word, ‘… different, when you see her. In a good way.’

  Sam laughed. ‘So not like I’m having a stroke or something?’

  Aidan grinned back. ‘She’s good for you. That’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘Thanks, bro.’ Sam cleared his throat. ‘Well, she’ll be expecting breakfast so I’d better get back next door. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Yeah,’ it was Aidan’s turn to clear his throat. ‘I might text Tom and see if he wants to meet for a drink later.’

  ‘Didn’t you two put enough away last night?’ Sam chided. ‘After all, you’re not supposed—’

  ‘I know,’ Aidan replied. ‘I didn’t actually drink that much in the end. The Sambuca was nearly all Tom. That’s why he passed out on the sofa, I think.’

  ‘He probably won’t fancy another drink, then!’ Sam laughed. ‘But I’m glad you’re making friends, too.’

  Something Sam couldn’t identify passed over Aidan’s face at that moment, and Sam was just about to ask him why when his attention was distracted by the paper bag that held the croissants starting to rip as it defrosted. ‘I’d better get going,’ he said, giving his brother a final grin. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Not if I see you first,’ Aidan replied, closing the front door behind him.