26. Mike #2
I climb back into the bed and cradle her against my chest, discovering that I fit just fine in Sylvia’s bed when she’s wrapped around me.
She trembles against me, flushed and warm and probably sleepy, as the rain falls harder against the roof.
Every protective instinct I’ve ever had is redoubled with this woman and I hold her like the precious gem she is.
When her breathing slows, I wonder if I should just touch myself, but Sylvia suddenly rises above me, a determination in her eyes that makes me smile.
“Some things should be one for you and one for me,” she whispers .
I don’t even have time to agree before her hands are on me, a tease and then a caress, a torment that leaves me raging for her. She kisses me and strokes me at the same time, making me dizzy with need and I’m sure she’s going to finish me off.
Instead, she eases the condom over me with sure fingers.
Then she’s straddling me and I’m buried inside her, exactly where I want to be.
Her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are flushed, her nipples are tight beads and her hair is a glorious tangle.
She could be a triumphant goddess claiming my soul and I’d willingly surrender.
Our gazes lock as we move more quickly together, instinct taking over as my pulse pounds in my ears.
She moves faster and faster and I feel the thunder gathering – and in the perfect moment, she bends over me, capturing my mouth with a kiss and swallowing the roar of my release.
I roll her over and drive deep to finish, then rest my head on her shoulder for a long moment.
I feel her heart beating against mine and her fingers in my hair and I touch my lips to her shoulder.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” she says and I brace myself over her, pushing a hand into her hair and kissing her again.
“Me, too.”
“Dinner’s probably cold.”
“I don’t care.”
She smiles. “Just don’t tell Merrie that we put her creations in the microwave.”
I cross my fingers over my heart, smiling as she laughs at me. I kiss her again, slowly and sweetly, and sure enough, I want her all over again. That’s never going to change. I’m never going to have enough.
But intimacy is more than sex and sensation, and I’m hoping that Sylvia is becoming convinced of that again.
We’re tousled and happy, unable to keep our hands off each other.
We clean up, taking turns in the smallest bathroom in the world, then microwave the steak and vegetables.
Not for too long, Sylvia can’t bring herself to that, but enough to take the chill off them.
We end up doing a kind of dance, working around each other as I search for the corkscrew and glasses, and she does the plating, rubbing against each other at intervals.
I pick her up and move her over a couple of times.
It’s playful and comfortable, with kisses stolen in between.
She’s tied up her hair again and put her dress back on.
She’s barefoot, though, and I know she’s not wearing the bra anymore.
I trap her against the counter and ease one hand beneath the top of her sundress, just to make sure.
She arches against me, obviously having no issues with this delay in dinner service.
Eventually, we sit opposite each other at the table under the sparkling lights. The rain sounds louder now because Sylvia has opened a couple of windows and there’s a cool breeze. I toast her with my glass of wine and her eyes shine as she toasts me back.
The first bite makes me realize how hungry I am. That must be mutual because we eat in silence for a couple of minutes.
“Tell me about waiting tables,” I invite and Sylvia looks up. “Why is that still what you do?”
“It was what I knew how to do when I went to Toronto and I needed a job. I got one in a bar.” She eyes me. “You probably have no idea how good the tips can be.”
She’s pretty so I know she must have done all right.
Even so, she names a number and I nearly choke on my steak. “Every week?”
“Sometimes more.”
“It would be tough to walk away from that.” I’m understanding why she never went back to school to learn another trade, although I can’t imagine what she would have wanted to do. Waiting tables probably pays better than being an artist for a lot of people.
“Especially as the hours worked out well. I was able to be with Sierra in the daytime, then Eileen was with her at night.”
“Eileen. Una’s sister?”
She nods. “Eileen had a house in Toronto and we lived there. She didn’t want to live alone but her own kids were married and gone. I needed a helping hand. It worked out well for all of us.” She smiles at a memory. “Sierra adored her and I think it was mutual.”
“I can believe it.” I want to check out all the pictures on the fridge. I noticed that there are some of Sierra and some of Sylvia, but I don’t want to be too nosy.
She grimaces. “Then Eileen died and everything changed. Her kids wanted to sell the house, so we had to move out.”
“Weren’t they worried about you?”
“Not really. I didn’t know them well. They’re my dad’s cousins and he died when I was a kid. The house was worth a lot of money given Toronto real estate prices and it was their inheritance. I can’t blame them.”
I’ll just have to be the one to do that, though I respect her understanding. “Tough for you, though.”
She avoids my gaze. “We managed.”
“You could have come back to Empire then.”
“I could have. I didn’t.” She smiles. “It was around that time I met Merrie. I was working more lunches, trying to get away from the late-night shifts. She was chef at the place I was working, not a partner, but she had influence. She got me the hostess job and a promotion. When she left there, I went with her.”
“And the rest is history.”
“Pretty much. Sierra was friends with Lila by then, so Lila’s mom, Hannah, and I worked out a schedule.
They wanted to have another child and some nights without kids underfoot were appreciated.
I needed someplace reliable and familiar for Sierra on the nights I worked.
It was hectic, but it all came together somehow. ”
“And you stayed close to Una?”
“We talked every week. We had a fixed date on Sunday night at eight and would talk for an hour or more. She’s so practical and supportive. She found resources for me and gave me ideas.” She puts down her fork. “She never gave me a guilt trip or shamed me at all.”
“Because she was proud of you.” This seems obvious to me but my saying so makes Sylvia blush.
“She came to Toronto a couple of times a year. Sierra’s birthday. Christmas. At least once in the summer, maybe twice. But she never told me about this cancer.”
“She didn’t want you to feel obligated to come back?”
“Exactly. And she’s so independent that she probably thought she could manage it alone and tell me when it was done.”
I have to think that Sylvia came honestly by her self-sufficiency. “She has to be glad you’re here.” I watch her smile.
“I think so. She never says, of course, but she gives more hugs than I remember.”
“That could be Sierra’s influence.”
Sylvia laughs. “It could be.”
“She’s amazing, Sylvia,” I say. “You’ve done a terrific job raising her.”
She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “And I’m so glad she’s getting to know you. Thank you, Mike. She’s so excited about the greenhouse and everything else.” She tilts her head to study me and her eyes are full of stars. “You’re making things right for everyone, you know. ”
“I’m glad,” I say because my throat is tight. I’m pretty sure I’m mostly making things right for myself, then Sylvia comes around the table and nestles in beside me. I lift her into my lap for a sultry sweet kiss and my hand slides under the hem of her dress.
A moment later I break our kiss and look her in the eye, pretending to be stern. “You’re not wearing your panties.”
She pretends to be astonished but her eyes are twinkling. “No? How could I forget? Do you think I had a scheme?” Before I can chuckle, she kisses me, her hands framing my face. I manage to get out of the bench seat with her in my arms and carry her back to the bed for another round.
This is all I want and more, which is the best possible indication that it will go sideways and soon.