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They walked out of the ER and through a walkway that led to the regular hospital. That area was quiet. It was late, and visiting hours were over. Sam scoped out the coffee shop.
“Damn. It’s closed.”
Sydney let out a huff of air. “Just my luck.” She leaned against a wall next to a supply closet. “Sam?”
“What?”
“Would you please hold me?”
He wanted to hold her until the end of time, but what good would it do?
God, I love her. Love her with all my heart. But he could never be with her.
Yet she was still the mother of his child, and she needed comfort.
He took her in his arms and held her body close.
She was tall, nearly six feet, he guessed, and fit perfectly against his own six-feet-three-inch frame. Her ample breasts pressed against his chest. How good it felt to hold the woman he loved.
The woman he loved and could never have.
She let out a sniff. “I’m so scared, Sam.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’m scared too.”
“How are we supposed to get through this?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. You just do, I guess. I remember waiting around with Dusty for blood tests. Wanting to do something but knowing I couldn’t do anything. Wishing it were me instead of her. It’s horrible.”
“That’s just how it is.”
“I know, and I’m sorry you have to go through it.”
She lifted her head and gazed at him, her dark eyes sunken and sad. “You really do know.”
“Yes.”
“You poor thing. God, you poor thing!”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not even close to okay. I’m so sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Don’t worry about that now. Let’s focus on Duke.”
She nodded, and then, out of nowhere, she wrapped her arms around his neck and
pulled him into a kiss.
Her lips smashed to his with a force so raw, he wasn’t sure he’d experienced anything like it. She trailed her tongue across the seam of his lips, looking for entrance. He granted it, and her mouth had never tasted sweeter. Their tongues met and dueled, tangled together in a kiss of passion, of desire, an expression of life.
Sam backed her up against the wall and pushed into her, his erection straining against his jeans.
She met him eagerly, pushing into his hardness, spreading her legs so that his thigh was between them. She begin to writhe against his jean-clad thigh, rubbing herself.
What a turn-on! But how could he be turned on right now, when so much else demanded his attention?
Yet it made perfect sense. Here they were, loving each other, validating their lives.
