Danielle Steel - Lightning

“Daphne?”

“Yes.” Her voice was sensual and sleepy. It was after midnight, and she'd been in bed. “Who is this?”

“It's me. What are you doing here? I thought you were in Washington for Thanksgiving.”

She laughed, and he could almost see her stretch lazily as she did it. He was freezing in the phone booth.

“I was. We gorged ourselves on an enormous lunch, and went ice-skating, and I flew home tonight. They were all going their separate ways tomorrow. It wasn't really meant to be a weekend. Where are you?” He hadn't called her at night since Alex's chemotherapy had started and Daphne only called sparingly. He was married after all, and she was very cautious. She was too smart to do otherwise, and she respected his situation.

Suddenly he chuckled mischievously into the phone in answer to her question. “I'm freezing my ass off in a phone booth on Fifty-third and Second. I've been walking for hours, and I wanted to call you.”

“What on earth are you doing there? Why don't you come up, at least for a cup of tea. I promise I won't bite you.”

“I'll hold you to that, you know,” and then, feeling very vulnerable and battered, it had been a rough day since he'd last seen her, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she said very softly, sounding sexier than ever. “How was Thanksgiving?”

“Pretty grim. I don't really want to talk about it. She was sick. It was hard on everyone, Annabelle most of all … I don't know … we had a long talk tonight. I'll tell you all about it.” But just listening to him, she knew that something was different. He seemed freer suddenly, and much more open. He sounded tired, and sad, but he didn't sound as anxious or conflicted.

“Come on up, before you freeze.”

“I'll be there.”

He was less than a block away, and he ran all the way to her door. Suddenly, he knew that it was the only place he wanted to be. It was the only place he had wanted to be ever since he met her. She was so healthy and young, so beautiful, and so perfect.

He pressed the buzzer downstairs, and she buzzed him in, and he bounded up the steps like a teenager, and then stopped as he saw her standing in the doorway. Her luxurious black hair hung past her shoulders, concealing one breast, and leaving the other bare. She wore a delicate white cotton nightgown, with tiny embroideries on it, which you could see through completely. Her entire body was revealed to him as she stood there, and then without a word, he went to her, and pulled her inside, and closed the door behind them.

The apartment was cozy and warm, and he pulled the nightgown over her head, without waiting a moment, he brushed back her silky dark hair, and stood admiring her in all her splendor, the perfect breasts, the tiny waist, the long, graceful legs, and the exquisite place where they came together.

“Oh my God …” was all he said. There was only one small light on in the bedroom, and he laid her on the feather bed she had brought with her from England. She was beautiful beyond his dreams, sensual beyond all his expectations, experienced beyond anything he could realize and she brought him to the edge of ecstasy and back again, and felt him explode inside her half a dozen times before morning. It was the most extraordinary night of his life. He had made a fire in the fireplace, and made love to her on the floor in front of it, and then on the bed again, and then finally in the bathtub. They had made love before the dawn, and again after it, and when they awoke at noon, he couldn't believe that he wanted her again, and was still capable of doing anything about it. But she let her silky lips drift across his stomach down his thighs, and then back up between his legs until they found what they were looking for and he craved, and this time he came in her mouth with a shuddering furor.

“Oh God …Daphne …you're going to kill me …” he murmured happily, “…but what a way to die….” He took her in his arms and held her there, unable to believe his good fortune. They had waited months for this, and he hadn't wanted to come to her until he was free of Alex. But now he knew that he was, he had to be. There was no other woman he wanted in the world now, except Daphne.

“I love you,” he whispered as she drifted off to sleep in his arms again, with her back to him, and her perfectly round bottom pressed against him, but this time, he was truly sated.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, smiling. He had been well worth waiting for. She had always known he would be. He cupped her breasts with his hands then, and thought of how lucky he was, and he drifted off to sleep with her, trying not to let himself think of Alex.

Chapter 14

If nothing else, out of sheer politeness, Sam called Alex late Friday afternoon and told her he wouldn't be home for the rest of the weekend. He didn't say where he was and she didn't ask any questions. He said he'd call her and check in, and then he spoke to Annabelle and said he'd miss her. He wondered if Alex knew where he was, or why, but he didn't let himself think of it. After that, he and Daphne went to Bloomingdale's and he bought half a dozen shirts, some jeans, corduroy pants, a jacket, socks, some underwear, and a sweater. And then they went to the drugstore and bought a razor and all the toiletries he needed. He didn't want to go home just yet, he didn't want to see them. He wanted to be completely alone with Daphne.

He cooked dinner for Daphne that night, and she pretended to help him, but she insisted on wandering in and out of the kitchen stark naked. And in the end, he almost burned their dinner. They left it in the microwave and went to bed. And at midnight, she made him an omelet. But most of their time was spent exploring each other's bodies, and preferences. They talked long into the night and he made popcorn and they watched old movies, but they kept missing the essential parts of the plot when he made love to her again, and they kept coming back just as the film was ending.

They spent another extraordinary night in each other's arms, and by Saturday morning it was as though they had always been lovers. He knew he wanted to stay with her, and spend the rest of his life with her. All he had to do now was deal with Alex.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked as they stretched lazily, and the prospect of making love all day crossed his mind again, but he thought they should at least make an effort to do something.

“Can you ice skate?” Daphne asked, looking like a child as she sat up in bed next to him, but a very well-endowed one.

“I was on the hockey team at Harvard,” he said proudly.

“Shall we do that?”

It was like starting life all over again. She was so young and so alive. She had no responsibilities and no burdens. They went to Wollman Memorial in Central Park, and he found that she was a very good skater. They danced, and spun around, and did loops around each other. She did very pretty camel spins, and he was impressed. And then he took her to lunch at Tavern-on-the-Green, but by two o'clock they were back in bed again, feeling as though they had been separated forever.

“What are we going to do about work?” he asked as they lay side by side after making love for the second time at four-thirty. “I'm not sure I can stay away from you long enough to get up and go to the office.” Not to mention the fact that he had told Alex that he would live at home for the next two months and talk about their relationship again in January after Annabelle's birthday. That had been before he had made love to Daphne. Now everything had changed again. But he still thought he should live by his agreement.

He had already explained it to Daphne the day before, and she thought it a very reasonable solution.