Samson's Lovely Mortal
Page 18
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Three hours later she was beat. Her eyes were hurting, and even rubbing them every two minutes didn’t make them stay open any longer. Time for bed.
But her well-deserved rest wouldn’t come.
She tossed.
She turned.
She lay on her side, her back, her stomach.
No use. Sleep wasn’t meant to be. A sound startled her. In the dark she couldn’t see anything. But she felt a heavy weight on her body, pressing her into the mattress. Hands touching her. Lips kissing. A hot tongue licking her neck. Not unpleasant, but unknown.
A body pinning her down, strong thighs imprisoning her. A hand sweeping her hair clear of her neck. A mouth kissing her neck. Until suddenly …
No!
Sharp razor-like teeth latched onto her neck and pierced her skin. Warm liquid ran down her neck. But the sensation wasn’t painful. It was … pleasurable!
Then a loud repetitive sound.
Beep! Beep! Beep! The alarm. It rudely woke her. She jerked up. It was day. Her hand went to her neck where she had sensed the bite, but her skin was smooth, perfect like always. No wound. No blood. Just another bad dream.
At least she had slept, if not much. Probably only three or four hours in all.
A look at the clock told her she had to get herself over to the office, and pronto. She had finally found several transactions in the files she’d reviewed overnight that didn’t make sense. She wanted to confirm her assumptions by accessing the original paper documentation in the office. She had a hunch that she was onto something.
After a rushed shower, Delilah dressed quickly and glanced at the clothes she had come back in. Samson’s clothes. At least she had a reason to see him again. Okay, it was called an excuse. She could bring the clothes back to him. Maybe he would invite her in. She would try to stop by tonight after work and hope he was home. Home alone.
A look out the window told her it was still drizzling; she would be better off taking her umbrella to work today. While she searched for it in the hallway closet, she heard a knock at the door.
“Who is it?”
“Gregory, from downstairs. Delivery for you.”
She liked the fact the building had a concierge service. It made her feel safer, especially after the attack the night before.
Delilah opened the door and couldn’t even see Gregory’s face behind the two-dozen red roses he carried.
“Good morning, Miss Sheridan.” The strong scent almost overwhelmed her. They were beautiful and as dark red as blood.
“Wow! Are you sure they’re for me?” She knew nobody here. Besides, it wasn’t her birthday or Valentine’s Day or anything special like that.
“Yes; the gentleman who brought them gave me your name. And this.” He handed her a hanger with clothes wrapped in plastic. Her clothes.
Samson. How had he gotten her clothes cleaned and dried so fast? Was Samson downstairs? Her heart fluttered excitedly and her hands suddenly felt clammy.
“I believe there’s a card with the flowers.” Gregory sat the vase with the flowers on the side table in the foyer before he left.
“Thank you.”
After she shut the door and hung her clothes in the wardrobe, she looked for the card. Why would he send her two-dozen red roses?
The card was handwritten in neat old-fashioned letters.
My sincerest apologies for last night. Will you do me the honor and join me for the theater tonight? May I pick you up at 7pm? Samson Woodford. P.S. My assistant Oliver is waiting downstairs for your response.
The butterflies in her stomach started to dance. She had to sit down. He was asking her out.
On a date.
A date!
What should she do first? Go downstairs and talk to his assistant, or finish getting ready for work? Oh God, she was flustered. The butterflies in her stomach were dancing. They would do so all day, she was sure.
A young man was patiently waiting in the lobby of the building.
“Miss Sheridan?”
“Are you Mr. Woodford’s assistant? Oliver?” He was dressed in a dark formal business suit, just like Samson’s driver the night before.
“Yes, Ma’am. He has asked me to wait for your response.”
Her heart fluttered. “Please tell Mr. Woodford I’d be delighted to join him tonight.”
“He will be happy to hear that.”
She nodded at him and went to the double doors to make her way to work.
“Uh, Miss Sheridan?”
She turned, curious to see what else he wanted. “Yes?”
“Mr. Woodford has also asked me to offer to drive you wherever you might need to go.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m just going to work. It’s not far. Thank you.”
But her well-deserved rest wouldn’t come.
She tossed.
She turned.
She lay on her side, her back, her stomach.
No use. Sleep wasn’t meant to be. A sound startled her. In the dark she couldn’t see anything. But she felt a heavy weight on her body, pressing her into the mattress. Hands touching her. Lips kissing. A hot tongue licking her neck. Not unpleasant, but unknown.
A body pinning her down, strong thighs imprisoning her. A hand sweeping her hair clear of her neck. A mouth kissing her neck. Until suddenly …
No!
Sharp razor-like teeth latched onto her neck and pierced her skin. Warm liquid ran down her neck. But the sensation wasn’t painful. It was … pleasurable!
Then a loud repetitive sound.
Beep! Beep! Beep! The alarm. It rudely woke her. She jerked up. It was day. Her hand went to her neck where she had sensed the bite, but her skin was smooth, perfect like always. No wound. No blood. Just another bad dream.
At least she had slept, if not much. Probably only three or four hours in all.
A look at the clock told her she had to get herself over to the office, and pronto. She had finally found several transactions in the files she’d reviewed overnight that didn’t make sense. She wanted to confirm her assumptions by accessing the original paper documentation in the office. She had a hunch that she was onto something.
After a rushed shower, Delilah dressed quickly and glanced at the clothes she had come back in. Samson’s clothes. At least she had a reason to see him again. Okay, it was called an excuse. She could bring the clothes back to him. Maybe he would invite her in. She would try to stop by tonight after work and hope he was home. Home alone.
A look out the window told her it was still drizzling; she would be better off taking her umbrella to work today. While she searched for it in the hallway closet, she heard a knock at the door.
“Who is it?”
“Gregory, from downstairs. Delivery for you.”
She liked the fact the building had a concierge service. It made her feel safer, especially after the attack the night before.
Delilah opened the door and couldn’t even see Gregory’s face behind the two-dozen red roses he carried.
“Good morning, Miss Sheridan.” The strong scent almost overwhelmed her. They were beautiful and as dark red as blood.
“Wow! Are you sure they’re for me?” She knew nobody here. Besides, it wasn’t her birthday or Valentine’s Day or anything special like that.
“Yes; the gentleman who brought them gave me your name. And this.” He handed her a hanger with clothes wrapped in plastic. Her clothes.
Samson. How had he gotten her clothes cleaned and dried so fast? Was Samson downstairs? Her heart fluttered excitedly and her hands suddenly felt clammy.
“I believe there’s a card with the flowers.” Gregory sat the vase with the flowers on the side table in the foyer before he left.
“Thank you.”
After she shut the door and hung her clothes in the wardrobe, she looked for the card. Why would he send her two-dozen red roses?
The card was handwritten in neat old-fashioned letters.
My sincerest apologies for last night. Will you do me the honor and join me for the theater tonight? May I pick you up at 7pm? Samson Woodford. P.S. My assistant Oliver is waiting downstairs for your response.
The butterflies in her stomach started to dance. She had to sit down. He was asking her out.
On a date.
A date!
What should she do first? Go downstairs and talk to his assistant, or finish getting ready for work? Oh God, she was flustered. The butterflies in her stomach were dancing. They would do so all day, she was sure.
A young man was patiently waiting in the lobby of the building.
“Miss Sheridan?”
“Are you Mr. Woodford’s assistant? Oliver?” He was dressed in a dark formal business suit, just like Samson’s driver the night before.
“Yes, Ma’am. He has asked me to wait for your response.”
Her heart fluttered. “Please tell Mr. Woodford I’d be delighted to join him tonight.”
“He will be happy to hear that.”
She nodded at him and went to the double doors to make her way to work.
“Uh, Miss Sheridan?”
She turned, curious to see what else he wanted. “Yes?”
“Mr. Woodford has also asked me to offer to drive you wherever you might need to go.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m just going to work. It’s not far. Thank you.”
