Her Loyal Seal(19)

“Okay then. We’re on the same page.”

“When did you learn my middle name?”

“You mean you don’t know mine?” His thumb traced patterns on her palm and had her stomach turning backflips.

“Clinton Anthony Archer. I like it.”

“Why didn’t they name you Rosa? I thought that would have been more Hispanic.”

“Mama had an American friend named Rose. She thought it was nice.”

“It is nice. Do you know what else is nice? Kissing.”

The man was certifiable.

“Hey bed head, morning breath, hospital gown, and door not locked. How about you put off the whole kissing thing until next spring?” Clint was out of his chair and leaning over the bedrail looking into her eyes.

“I’ve dreamed about kissing you for damn near four months. You have the most delectable lips.” He wasn’t looking in her eyes anymore, he was focused on her mouth and he looked hungry. He wasn’t kidding. Oh God, she wanted this so badly, but she wanted to look beautiful for him.

“You take my breath away.”

“I will if you kiss me.”

His thumb grazed her bottom lip, parting them. “You’re not going to stop me, Lydia.”

Ever so slowly, he bent forward. She trembled, but he caught her, his right hand easing behind her neck, slipping into her hair and angling her head just right so their lips could meet in a soft sigh of hello.

He massaged her scalp as he brushed back and forth until she was following his lead, anxious to find out where the magic would lead. He didn’t rush a thing, letting her get used to the heat and texture, and then she flowered open, needing more. He didn’t rush the invitation, instead he gently parted her further, the hand that had been holding her chin splayed along her jaw and she rubbed against the strength of him.

He surrounded her in caring, tears pricked the back of her eyes. Her breasts swelled. She pushed against his chest and demanded more. His tongue swept inside, and soon he was thrusting in the rhythm she desired, wanted, needed. She heard a sound and realized it was her.

Clint soothed her, tracing her cheek with his calloused fingertips, caressing her hair down her back.

“Shhhh, I have you.” His forehead rested against hers, and she could finally open her eyes. Passion turned his to emerald green. Now she knew her favorite color.



****



It’d been two weeks, and she was still mooning over one damn kiss. Seriously girlfriend, you need your head examined.

“So what’s the good word Dr. Woods? Do I get to leave?” It wasn’t like she had anything great to look forward to when she left. According to the US Marshalls they were still looking at least another six weeks at the safe house.

“I need a promise from you Lydia, you need to actually to follow my directive when you leave this time. You ignored the symptoms and allowed yourself to come down with another case of pneumonia. You didn’t need to. It didn’t need to get to this point. You’re a smart woman? You never told me why.”

“Is this under doctor and patient privilege?” Lydia was sitting up in the bed, and gave the doctor a steady look.

“If that’s the only way you’ll tell me and assure me you’ll take care of yourself, then yes.”

“Papa is hanging on by a thread. He feels so much guilt about what happened to Beth and me, whenever he is reminded of it, he….he.” Lydia couldn’t say it. It was a sin.

“Lydia, talk to me.” The doctor’s eyes were so compassionate. She was a good woman, someone Lydia had come to admire and trust.

“He took a bunch of pills. Mama found him before it was too late. She got him to throw up. We didn’t tell the Marshalls. We took care of it. If he thought I was getting sick again, it would have been too much for him.”

“Jesus. You know he needs help,” she breathed out.

“I know. But if the Marshalls find out, they might put him in some kind of institution until the trial. Mama hasn’t left his side. We keep telling him that he would be leaving all of us when we needed him the most.” Lydia clutched the handrail at the side of her bed, wincing when she tugged against the IV in her hand.

“Lydia, you can’t be living like that. So once again you hid the fact you were getting ill to your detriment.”

Lydia looked down, unable to face the recrimination in the doctor’s eyes.

“In some ways, staying at the hospital has been a Godsend.”

“Fine, I’ll have you stay longer.”

“It’s too much to ask of my mother. I need to go back. I can see the toll it has taken on her. I need to get back to her.”

“Stress isn’t good for you. You need rest.”