If You Only Knew

by Jea Hawkins

  “Are you dry yet?” Blythe asked, her voice lilting playfully.

  “Anything but,” was all Sabrina managed to say. She’d done it, broken her strictest rule about getting involved with Miranda’s conquests. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, if only she could keep the physical pleasure separate from the emotions Blythe stirred in her.

  “Good, because I intend to spend all night making sure you’re warm and happy.” Blythe lay atop her, all angles and softness, and kissed her.

  Sabrina didn’t know where to start, so she wrapped her hands around Blythe’s waist to hold her in place. She would take her time, she decided. They’d come this far, after all, so she might as well devour Blythe from head to toe.

  She moaned into the kiss, content to linger for the moment. It’d been too long since plush, seeking lips had molded to hers so passionately.

  Letting go of Blythe’s waist, Sabrina brought her hands to her neck and caressed the delicate skin. The rhythmic pulse beneath her fingertips was fast and steady. Blythe had lean, muscular arms and Sabrina couldn’t stop running her hands over them.

  Then her palms slid along Blythe’s back, smoothing down until they met her backside. Blythe wiggled against her and mewled into their kiss.

  Satisfaction filled Sabrina. Even though Blythe was in top, it was Sabrina’s turn to seduce, to torment and touch. All the things she’d been aching to do since she’d first laid eyes on the woman.

  There was only one way she could get through this without the heartbreak – she could pretend to be a character in one of her stories. Someone who only represented bits and pieces of her, instead of the whole. Sabrina shut off every thought other than that. What would a character willing to take on an emotionless fling even say?

  “I am going to make you come like you’ve never come before,” she whispered, her lips brushing over Blythe’s. “And then I’m going to do it again.”

  When their gazes met, another thrill shook Sabrina. Gone was Blythe’s usual confidence. Now she looked sweet and wanton, and disturbingly innocent, the way she blinked those blue eyes at her.

  Sabrina drew her hands over Blythe’s hips and then between their bodies. Her fingers curled up to find the hot, wet core of the woman atop her. Each of Blythe’s long, low moans was music to Sabrina’s ears as her fingers slipped in and out with ease.

  Sabrina stroked her thumb over Blythe’s clit, matching the tempo of her fingers. Each caress seemed to bring Blythe closer to release. The way her breath caught and her body shook, Sabrina knew she was moments from orgasm. All it would take was persistence, a willingness to stay and draw it out of her.

  And then it happened, Blythe gripping Sabrina’s shoulders and working her hips back and forth against her hand. Her entire body shuddered without inhibition, and it was the loveliest sight Sabrina had seen in a long time.

  Blythe let out a soft sigh and relaxed atop her, grip loosening. “Shall we try that again in your bed?”

  Sabrina could no longer think of reasons to say no.

  Chapter Eight

  Sabrina couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up so well-rested and content. She encountered a lovely sight as she rolled over – blonde hair spilling across her other pillow and Blythe’s face soft with sleep.

  Without even thinking about it, Sabrina reached out and ran her fingers through the silken strands of hair. So smooth, so golden in the shaft of sunlight that filled the room with radiance. It was one of those perfect summer mornings, comfortable enough to stay curled up in bed, under the covers, even though the waves were crashing just outside, inviting her to join in the new day.

  Blythe blinked her eyes open, eyelashes fluttering like small butterflies until she turned her sapphire gaze on Sabrina. “Hey,” she muttered, voice rusty. “What a night, huh?”

  “What a night,” Sabrina echoed, still threading her fingers through those soft strands of hair. If only her heart had gotten the memo about separating the sex from the sentiment. It seemed, however, that she was enjoying this moment as much as all of last night’s put together. Waves of giddiness filled her, and she couldn’t help but grin. “You know, I’ve never done anything like that.”

  “Like what?” Blythe lifted her head off the pillow, depriving Sabrina of the wonderfully tactile sensation, and propped herself up on her elbow.

  “A one-night stand. Having sex with someone I hardly know.”

  Blythe smiled. “Maybe you feel that way, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

  Her words sent a shiver through Sabrina, so she sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs to hide it. They weren’t supposed to be in bed together, excited to wake up next to one another. This had gone from fake to fling in sixty seconds, and Sabrina tried to ignore the alarm bells in the back of her mind.

  “Oh, please,” she scoffed, her snort punctuating the dismissal.

  “It’s true.” Blythe’s half-smile played on her lips like something out of a da Vinci painting. “I’ve been reading your books ever since I was in high school. Granted, that wasn’t a long time ago, but I’ve followed your career for at least ten years, now. Your stories aren’t just about the people you make up in your mind, no matter what you say. They’re about what’s inside of you.”

  Over the past two decades, Sabrina had been interviewed plenty of times. Those journalists almost always asked the same questions about her characters and stories, and Sabrina almost always gave the same practiced answer. The one she gave Blythe now.

  “Well yes, there’s certainly an aspect of me in each character and a reflection of my own life in each story, but they would be rather boring stories if that’s all they were.”

  “No, they’re far from boring because they represent so much of what’s inside you.” Blythe sat upright, too, but unlike Sabrina she allowed the blanket to fall away from her body, baring everything. Every inch of porcelain skin Sabrina had lavished with attention the night before, after their warm-up in the living room.

  Sabrina turned her head away, hoping she wasn’t blushing at the memory. For someone who wrote about the deepest, darkest, secret parts of people, she certainly wasn’t good at facing her own.

  “It’s okay to want me.” Blythe edged closer to her, warm body pressing against Sabrina’s side. “Ignore whatever is telling you it’s not okay and focus on just us. We have a summer together and maybe it doesn’t have to be all for show. If you’ll let me stay, we can make the most of it.”

  When Sabrina turned back to answer, Blythe’s lips met hers.

  Why not? younger Sabrina asked. You’ve already tested the waters. Might as well stay for a swim.

  ****

  When she was alone and writing, Sabrina knew there were three essential ingredients to do it successfully: enough sleep, good food, and plenty of fresh air. Blythe not only found ways to help with all three. She might even be the fourth addition to the list if she continued to spoil Sabrina with her attention.

  Having Blythe around meant Sabrina almost had to break out of her daily routine, but once she started exploring the island every morning, she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop.

  They worked their way around Oak Bluffs, first. It was only natural, since Sabrina lived there, to show Blythe everything wonderful about the little town. Besides the harbor, beach, and old shops, there were the Victorian “gingerbread” house in a range of colors, from soft pastels to jewel tones.

  Then there were the ocean excursions, which Sabrina hadn’t been on since she was a teenager. A few hours on a boat to look for whales and other aquatic life had stopped appealing to her by then, but it was a nice change of pace with Blythe.

  With plenty of historical sites and museums, they had enough to do on rainy days, too. But it was getting out on the bike trails that brought the sweet sense of nostalgia back once more. Sabrina dusted off both hers and her sister’s bikes and rolled them out from the garage one sunny morning at the end of July. They’d both hung in there, unused until now. For twenty-f
ive-year-old bikes, they looked decent, but Blythe wrinkled her nose when she saw them.

  “Aren’t they a little old-fashioned?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding? Old-fashioned is the way to go.” Sabrina rubbed a cloth over the brown leather seat of her bike and gestured at the one Miranda used to ride. “These are from the 90s, so they aren’t that old. We intentionally chose this style, though, because Miranda and I used to like anything that looked like it might me from the 1940s. These weren’t really stylish when I was younger, but we didn’t care what anyone else thought.”

  Blythe folded her arms and smirked. “I bet your friends left you both in the dust with their fiery red Schwinn ten-speeds.”

  “Maybe they did, but with things like shabby chic and vintage becoming trendy, we got the last laugh. Now everyone wants bikes like these.” Sabrina lowered herself to the seat, not sure she still knew how to ride. Having Blythe around had given her the confidence to try things she hadn’t done in a long time, as well as explore new territory with her latest story. This was an entirely different matter, though. What if she lost her balance and fell?

  You mean the way you’re falling for her? Sabrina’s mind whispered.

  Blythe gripped the handlebars of the other bike, a pale pink one with a white seat that complemented Sabrina’s robin’s egg blue bicycle. “You look scared.”

  “Maybe because I haven’t been on this thing in ten or more years, which is silly considering all the places I could bike. But I tend to walk everywhere.” Come to think of it, she also hadn’t been in a relationship in ten or more years. Great. My bike is a metaphor.

  “It’s time for a change, then.” Blythe swung her leg over the seat and started pedaling. She rode from the driveway to the street and circled back. “How come you don’t use your car?” she asked, gesturing at the VW Beetle stashed in the garage.

  “I do, but only in the winter or bad weather. I also keep a VW Convertible on the mainland. But walking is good exercise and gets me away from my work.” Sabrina put one foot on one pedal and took a deep breath, her heart racing. Why was she so afraid when this was her idea?

  Blythe circled again, picking up speed. “Come on! Don’t make me do this alone.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” Sabrina kicked off and started pedaling. At first, she wobbled. “Go home, bike, you’re drunk,” she muttered, unable to keep steady. Then again, everything about her life had been shaky since Blythe entered it. Apparently, that wasn’t about to change.

  After riding down the street without actually falling, however, confidence crept back into her. She pedaled a little harder and faster, and kept pace with Blythe. With each movement surer than the last, Sabrina let herself tip her face up to the sunshine and embrace the sensation. She’d forgotten how freeing it was to ride a bike or do other things, like swing or dangle her feet from a dock into the cool Atlantic Ocean waters.

  Something about having Blythe around, turning everything about her life upside down, made her want to revisit those feelings. Life was too short to let such simple pleasures go, even at her age.

  “They say you never forget how to ride a bike.” Blythe’s words echoed Sabrina’s thoughts. She, of course, looked amazing on a bicycle. Her long, blonde hair flowed behind her like a golden banner and her white skirt fluttered up to reveal her pale thighs.

  Sabrina grinned, trying not to think of Blythe naked, and asked, “How do you keep from getting sunburned all over like that?”

  “Would you like to know?”

  “I asked, didn’t I?”

  Blythe giggled and pointed ahead at a paved path that paralleled the road. “Is that the bike path you wanted to take?”

  Sabrina nodded and steered toward it. The path took them south from Oak Bluffs, down to Edgartown and over Jaws Bridge, for a spectacular view of both the ocean and the island. It was her favorite path when she was younger, a chance to surround herself with that dark blue water. Of course, plenty of tourists had the same idea in the summertime, but it was still worth it. Sabrina could enjoy the ride and scenery without letting all the people distract her.

  Especially this time, because it was Blythe who was the real distraction. She looked comfortable on the bicycle, pedaling and steering with confidence, a grin brightening her face. “This is so beautiful. I think I told you my family is from Nantucket and, don’t get me wrong, I love it there. But there’s something special about Martha’s Vineyard. Almost mythical, you know?”

  She hadn’t said from Nantucket, specifically, but Sabrina filed the information away for future use. “I know,” she agreed. “It’s a big part of what fires my imagination. Even when I write stories about other places, my characters always end up here.”

  After they crossed the bridge, she braked at the crosswalk and glanced up and down the road. As soon as it was clear, she led Blythe across to the ocean side of the long, narrow stretch of beach. They walked their bikes down into the sand and looked out into the endless deep.

  “I’ve noticed that about your books,” Blythe said. “No matter where your characters go, this is their home.” Blythe’s voice lowered, as did her gaze. A reminder that she didn’t talk about her family or past often. They’d spent the past three weeks together, but of all the things Blythe revealed between the intimate moments, this remained the one thing she kept to herself.

  Sabrina wondered if she ought to press the matter. If she was pursuing any other woman, this was the kind of issue she’d want to know more about, to understand a person better and get to know them. She wasn’t so sure the same held true for a summer fling.

  Letting her questions go for now wasn’t easy, but Sabrina looked out at the waves and pointed. “This is my favorite part of the ride, stopping here.” She cloaked herself in the mantle of a fictional character, like she’d done night after night, to allow herself permission to enjoy their time together, instead of overthinking everything. Every time, it became less and less effective. Sabrina knew her heart was fracturing, but what else could she do?

  “A ride you haven’t taken in about ten or twenty years?” Blythe teased.

  Sabrina laughed, and something inside of her loosened. Pretending to be someone else wasn’t working and maybe the questions didn’t matter. Neither did Nantucket or Blythe’s family or anything else. They were together, they were having fun, and Sabrina, for once, ought to allow herself to dwell in the moment.

  The Atlantic surrounded them on both sides, dark blue and forbidding. While they weren’t the shark-infested waters popularized by Jaws, despite the name given to the bridge, Sabrina had always entertained a healthy respect for the creatures. Even now, her stomach dipped at being surrounded by water. Taking the ferry was one thing. But the ocean in all its awful, eternal expanse inspired a touch of terror when she thought about what lay in its depths. How it’d swallowed men, women, and children whole over centuries.

  She turned and glanced at the beachgoers gathered on the bridge. Some liked to jump off it, not a feat Sabrina had ever attempted. It was enough, she thought, to see it. Blythe leaned toward the water and blew out a breath. “It’s almost too much, isn’t it? Even growing up around the water, it’s as frightening as it is beautiful.”

  “That’s exactly it.” Sabrina wished her heart wouldn’t leap at Blythe’s insightful statements. No one in recent or distant memory matched her in that regard. How was it that a girl in her twenties spoke with the kind of wisdom Sabrina had longed for, but not found, in older women? And why, for fuck’s sake, did it have to be Miranda who found her?

  “Hey.” Blythe turned to her, pale against the blue expanse of sky and sea. “I know there are things you want to know about me, and I should tell you–”

  “Shhh.” Even though she wanted to know, Sabrina cut her off, heart pounding. She would see this through to the bitter end, she decided. A summer fling, a fake relationship to appease her publicist. No shared secrets, no drama, no logic. Just the inevitable heartbreak that maybe she needed to feel to get her
mind and heart back on track. She’d continue to use it to fuel her writing. At least it would be good for something. “It’s okay. Let’s enjoy every moment until August.”

  As she said it, she hoped those words wouldn’t come back to haunt her.

  Chapter Nine

  “You’re falling in love.” Miranda stared at Sabrina over her glass of white wine, brow as smooth as when she was forty years younger.

  “You’re going a little heavy on the Botox.” It was the most satisfying jab she could get in with her sister.

  Of course, Miranda didn’t even wince. She’d spent too much money on looking young to let Sabrina, or anyone else, get to her. Sabrina wished she had the same iron-willed self-control. Knowing Miranda could get to her made her throat close up and the delicious scallops hard to swallow. Her sister sure knew how to ruin a meal.