At first she thinks she is still asleep and dreaming when she feels the warmth of another human body beside her.
She rolls over in bed to find Liz propped up on the pillows, awake and staring at the wall. She's nibbling on the cuticle of her thumb, staring off into the room. Samar's vision is blurred from just waking, and to her half asleep eyes, Liz looks soft, enchanted.
Samar rubs sleep from her eyes and sits up on her elbow.
"Have you been awake long?"
"Not really," Liz says. She smiles down into Samar's sleepy gaze. "And I actually slept last night for more than a few consecutive hours. It's the first time in ages that has happened."
"That's good. I'm glad." Samar reaches for Liz's hand and is relieved when Liz allows her to take it. She's even more relieved that Liz's sustained smile does not seem in the least awkward or forced. "See what happens when you don't have a motel room of drunk 20 year olds partying next to you?"
"Well, maybe that is part of it. But it's something else too. It's like you have this tranquilizing effect on me," Liz sighs, then raises an eyebrow and regards Samar coyly from beneath her lashes. "You didn't drug me, did you?"
"No, Elizabeth, I did not drug you," Samar says and they both laugh at the joke, but Samar can't help thinking if she only knew.
She feels a smug satisfaction that she stuck to her guns and did not even flirt with the notion of using any kind of chemical to 'relax' Liz, other than the simple chemistry of affection. Although, if she is honest with herself, she must admit it is more than simple affection she feels looking at the delicate woman in her cami and sleep shorts in the bed of her newly furnished guest room. She recalls the sensation of Liz brushing her hand against her breast last night as they kissed, and a shudder goes straight to her core. She sits up and stretches her legs out in front of her, crossing them, trying to distract her body's erotic response by shifting positions.
I'm afraid she's not your Lizzie anymore, she remembers saying to Reddington that day when they'd met in the library. But is she mine? Samar adds the silent question to her memory, as she reclines against the bed, and with it comes a sad worry.
She could not have predicted any of this back only a few short weeks ago. Of course she had been instantly drawn to Liz from the moment she first saw her. But they had such a rocky start to their relationship, and as it eventually settled, Samar had contented herself with the notion they could be casual friends. This intimacy over the past few weeks is more than she ever dreamed would be possible. The fact Liz allowed Samar into her life after shutting out just about the entire rest of the world is not only humbling, but intoxicating.
Samar can't help but bring Liz's fingers to her lips. She opens the woman's pale hand, kisses each finger tip before pressing her palm to her lips, sighing deeply into her skin. Then she presses Liz's hand against her throat and her eyes roll back in her head. It's almost more than she can bear. She clears her throat and blinks back tears as she returns Liz's hand with a smile meant to be playful and reassuring.
"What on earth are you thinking." She asks, and curls onto her side to face Samar. Liz loops a tendril of Samar's black hair around her recently returned finger and twirls it.
"I'm glad you feel comfortable with me," she manages to reply.
"I am, Samar," Liz says. She drapes a leg over Samar and cuddles closer. "Very comfortable."
"So, are you alright? With what happened last night?"
"Yes," Liz answers, and nods, although the smile disappears and her face grows serious. It is an expression Samar recognizes from hours at work when Liz is focused and considering the details of a case, looking for a lead. Liz takes a deep breath before she continues, "You know, when I was in school, getting my psychology degree, we had a term for women like me."
"What do you mean?"
"We used to call them 'Trauma Lesbians'. Women who had been so damaged by men that they had no other acceptable path but to turn to other women for love, comfort, romance."
Samar loosens her embrace on Liz. Her brows come together as her brain tries to assimilate what Liz is telling her.
"Um, I'm not exactly sure how I feel about that," Samar says, attempting to keep her tone slow and steady, and not give away how her heart races.
"Yeah. Me either."
Samar is prepared to get up, and exit with as much grace as she can retain. Neither of them were ready for this. Things have moved too fast and they need to slow down. The room needs to stop spinning and Samar's heart needs to stop beating so fast. She should have known better. She should have never allowed these feelings to seep into her professional relationship with Keen, or with the task she has undertaken for Reddington.
She is prepared to get up and put some space between them. She's not prepared for it when Liz turns, graceful as a mermaid, wraps her arms around Samar and kisses her. It feels good and right at first, and then suddenly it feels painful because Samar knows it can not be. It is all happening too fast.
Samar pushes her away. "Not fair," she says. "You got up and brushed your teeth." It is her feeble attempt at breaking the spell Liz has cast on her.
"Samar? What's wrong?"
Samar slides out of bed. "I've got a busy day."
"What could you possibly have to do today? It's Saturday."
"Yes, well, I told Cooper I would come in and type up some reports today." Samar lies. She starts toward the door.
"Uh, what just happened here?" Liz says, tossing the covers off of her and getting up on her knees in the bed. "Samar! Stop! Talk to me." She pleads to Samar's back.
Samar turns around and takes a deep breath to smother the pain and anger she is suddenly feeling.
"Trauma lesbian?" Samar rolls the dice, and with it reveals the heart that has crept down her sleeve and is poking at her arm, demanding attention. "Look. Liz. I like you. I really like you. To be completely honest, I have probably been falling for you since I first came on at the task force. But I do not want to force you into becoming anything you don't want to be. I don't want you to look back and feel like I manipulated you into anything you didn't truly want, because you were traumatized or lonely or whatever. If you want to be with me. . . well, that's another story. But I think you need to figure that out for yourself." Samar delivers this speech with as much composure as she can muster, standing still with perfect posture, her hands by her thighs. She's learned how to say such things with a poise that skirts robotic, even when she is truly flustered, even when she feels as though her heart is falling like a baby bird out of a nest and about to collide with rough and unyielding pavement. "I think maybe I should give you a bit of space."
"Hey!" Liz bounces out of bed and is next to Samar in an instant. "No, please. Please. I don't want you to go. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"Yes. Well."
"It is confusing, Samar. I can't help that. But I feel drawn to you too, and I want to see where it goes. I just. . . I've never done this before." She waves her hand back and forth between them in a frantic figure eight.
Samar can't help but smile. "This?" She says, imitating Liz's hand gesture. Liz grabs her hand and pulls Samar into a hug. Samar returns the embrace and kisses Liz's neck. "Liz, I know you have been through a lot. I don't want to put any other pressure on you. I won't ask you for anything. If you want to see where this goes, I'm game. But if you're not ready, I don't want to start something that will hurt either of us."
"Samar, I don't know if I am ready. I want to be honest with you about that." Liz says in a small voice.
"It's fine," Samar says. She squeezes Liz before breaking the embrace. "Really. It's fine. I'll give you some space."
"I don't want any space." Liz raises her hands and holds her arms in an awkward position at 90 degrees for a moment before decisively placing them on Samar's waist. She pulls Samar's hips towards hers until they are touching. "I don't know much these days. But I definitely know I do not want any space from you right now."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
Samar sighs and yields to the embrace. "But Liz, this can't just be about damage. I care for you. For all of you. Not just your damage. And I do not want you to become intimate with me simply because of mine. Can you understand that?"
"Of course," Liz says. "I'm so sorry. It was a poor choice of words. I've just never felt this way, you know, for a. . ." she gulps and shakes her head with a funny little smile.
"Do you mean for a woman," Samar says, completing Liz's sentence in a sultry voice while sucking in the bottom of her full, dark lip.
"Yes," Liz breathes. "For a gorgeous and mysterious woman."
"Ok, I'll stay," Samar says.
"Good," Liz says. She strokes the sides of Samar's waist and then hooks her arms around Samar's neck and pulls her face down for a kiss, which becomes slow and deep and elicits little moans from both of their throats. When they part, they are both breathless. "I think I could keep kissing you all day." Liz offers. She wiggles against Samar's body and they both sense the heat flowing between their hips.
"This is a good thing," Samar whispers and kisses Liz again.
"So, do you really have a busy day today?" Liz asks, moving her lips across Samar's collarbone.
"No." Samar says. "No, I do not have anything on my agenda today."
"So we can do this all day?" Liz smiles ironically and moves her hand in that figure eight gesture between them again.
"Yes, we can. If that is what you want." Samar laughs.
"It is very much what I want."
"Very well then. Oh, and Keen?"
"Yeah?" Liz nibbles on Samar's neck.
"Kissing one woman one time does not a lesbian make, trauma or otherwise," Samar says and can't help but utter a slight moan as Liz nips her earlobe.
"Really?" Liz asks, her morning voice buzzing close to Samar's ear.
"Really."
"Hmm. Well, let's see what we can do about that then." Liz brings her hand up to boldly cup Samar's breast as she deepens her kiss, and pulls her back to the bed which they fall into with a soft thud.