8. Miles
8
MILES
I had never felt so warm and comfortable. There was something about Lydia’s bed, about Lydia, that was comforting. I think for the first time in my thirty-eight years, I understood the concept of cozy. And it was nice. What had I been missing out on all this time?
Why were men supposed to be rough and hard and endure discomfort when this luxury existed?
I bundled the sleeping form of the woman next to me into my arms, wrapping around her curves like a loving big spoon. She hummed and wiggled her ass against my groin. Damn, she was hot, physically warm, and she set my body on fire.
My cock, already half alert simply because I was touching her, sprang to full attention and prodded her.
She wiggled more, rubbing against me. She had to be awake and aware of what she was doing.
I nuzzled in against the back of her neck, scraping my teeth against her skin and placing small kisses under her ear.
She twisted and looked up at me. Her hair was a bit of a mess, and I loved it. My hands had given her that look. My touch put that soft smile on her face.
“I was asleep,” she said. It wasn’t a complaint, just a fact.
“But now you’re not,” I said as I rolled her the rest of the way onto her back. I positioned myself above her.
She wrapped one leg over my hip as I eased into her. Damn, taking her was so simple, so elegant. She was as ready for me as I was for her. We rocked together until I thought her bed was in danger of breaking apart.
Lydia’s moans and cries of delight were like whips driving me to harder, deeper, faster action. When we both had reached our release, I pulled her back into my arms and drifted back into the blissful coziness of sleeping in her bed.
I found her later, with damp hair, straightening up in the lobby. I had made use of her bathroom and taken a quick shower but was back in my same clothes. I would have loved to change into something fresh, but being trapped by the storm, I was lucky to be somewhere warm and safe.
I slid my hands around her waist and pulled her to me before claiming a quick kiss. “What’s on the agenda for today? More repairs?”
She let out a half-assed chuckle. “It’s never-ending. Unfortunately, it looks like today, I’ll be shoveling snow.”
I cast a glance out the window. The sunlight was blinding as it reflected off the white snow.
“Has it stopped snowing?”
“It’s topped, and it’s starting to melt. The snow plow did the other side of the street already. Once it hits this side, I’ll have to get out and clear off the sidewalk and the walkways.”
“You don’t sound too happy about that,” I said.
She gave me the saddest smile I had ever seen. I had seen bitter smiles, and smiles that were loaded with all sorts of other emotions. Women could twist their expressions to look like one thing while meaning something else, and Lydia’s smile was failing at hiding her true emotions.
“I hate shoveling,” she said. She twisted away and wiped at her eyes.
“Hey.” I grabbed her shoulder and spun her to face me. “What’s going on?”
“The roads are clear, Miles. My other guest has already checked out.” She locked her gaze with mine.
Realization dawned on me. “Oh, I see.”
“Look, I knew what I was getting myself into. You don’t have to worry about me. It was fun.”
“It was better than fun, Lydia. I’ll be back,” I said as I rubbed her arm. I had business with Brookdale. Of course I’d be back, especially since I knew Lydia would be here. “You know, I don’t have to go back to the city immediately. I could stay and help you dig out.”
She blinked at me a few times. “Are you serious?”
This time, her smile was bright and full of joy.
“Do you even know how to use a shovel?” She looked down at my feet. “I don’t think your shoes would survive.”
I shrugged her comment off. My shoes were already ruined. I didn’t think a little more water damage would make a difference.
“You know,” she started, “the snow will be even more melted tomorrow. Probably won’t have to dig out nearly so much.”
“What are you saying?” I asked.
She lifted her brows and smirked. “If I got all my chores done early, and if you honestly didn’t mind helping to clear off the porch and steps, we could spend the rest of the day and night enjoying each other’s company some more until you had to leave.“
I liked the way she thought. “Where’s your shovel?”
I started with the porch. The wind had blown piles of snow up against the building. If I hadn’t already known there was a porch, it would have looked like very deep banks of snow. Fortunately, the snow hadn’t been compacted down, and it was more like brushing piles of cold fluff.
Once I was out from the cover of the porch, the snow was very different. It was heavy, full of ice, and wet with the beginnings of the limited amount of melting that the improved weather had brought.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Lydia teased as she walked out onto the porch. “I didn’t think you guys from the big city knew how to shovel show.”
“I didn’t always live in New York,” I said. “I’ve shoveled my fair share of driveways and sidewalks.”
She raised her brows.
“Grew up in a small Midwestern town. As far as anyone was concerned, I had an empty mind and a strong back.”
“How long did that last?” she asked.
“The empty head or the strong back? Until the day after high school graduation,” I admitted.
She leaned on the thin column that supported the porch roof. Her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. “No more empty mind, but at least you kept the strong back.”
I propped the shovel next to me and leaned against it. This was grueling work, but I spent hundreds of hours in a gym, and not just for my own good looks. My muscles might be a little sore by the time I was finished, but I had the promise of Lydia’s hands on me later. I was willing to bet she would be very willing to massage my aching shoulders.
She held the coffee out to me. “Need a warm up?”
I stepped up the newly cleared stairs and accepted the offered drink. “The walkway would be a lot easier with a snowblower,” I said between sips.
She nodded. “We used to have one, but it died on us a few years ago.”
“And you didn’t buy a replacement?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, things break and you can fix them. Sometimes, you can’t.”
“And sometimes, you replace them,” I said firmly. I didn’t know why it upset me that she hadn’t replaced the snowblower. Or that the lock and keys on the rooms would sometimes give out for no reason. I wasn’t financially investing in this place. I wanted to replace it.
But Lydia seemed to have a connection to it, a love of its history. I wish she didn’t. That would make her resistant to my proposal when the time came. But maybe I could convince her that she would be throwing her money away If she tried to keep this place.
“And sometimes, you wish for snowstorms to strand more people in your town so you can afford a new one. But that didn’t happen either.” She pushed off the post and brushed her hands over her thighs. “What’s the saying, if wishes were horses?”
I nodded. “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.”
She shrugged. “Either way, it still smells like a bunch of horse shit to shovel. Snowblowers are expensive, and my late aunt was a spendthrift. You don’t have to finish if it’s too much of a bother.”
“I’m good. Strong back, remember?” I handed the now empty cup of coffee back to her.
I had pushed a sore spot. She was no longer smiling. She looked tired, worn out.
I climbed the stairs and propped the shovel against the post Lydia had recently vacated.
“You know what?” I said as I reached out for her. “The stairs are clear. Some good Samaritan with a snowblower will take pity on you and clear the rest of this in a day or two. I can’t feel my toes, and I can think of much better conversations we could be having.”
I lowered my head and captured her lips.
She snaked her arms around my neck and held me close as I slid my lips over hers. Her mouth was warm and sweet and much more interesting than talking about snowblowers.
“I think that sounds like a very good idea,” she said with a pleased purr in her voice.