Riley’s eyes moved to Owen’s plate. He had squeezed ketchup onto his eggs and pancakes, and seemed to be delighting in eating a fistful of the rather repulsive mixture.
“Hope it tastes better than it looks,” Fallon said.
Fallon seemed unfazed by everything. Her playfulness with Owen was obviously genuine just as her offer had been.
“He eats like you.” Carol looked over Fallon’s shoulder at Owen’s plate. “You are never babysitting my kids,” she told Fallon.
“Oh? Something you forgot to tell me? That butcher make a delivery I don’t know about?” Fallon asked.
Riley chuckled at the banter.
“One of these days,” Carol said.
“Yes?” Fallon replied. “One of these days Charlie’s going to make a special delivery?”
“You’re impossible,” Carol said. She looked at Riley. “Watch her, Riley. Fallon seems like a good influence.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fallon asked.
Carol’s eyes traveled down to Fallon’s plate. Riley and Fallon’s eyes followed.
“What? I like ketchup,” Fallon said.
Owen burst into a fit of laughter. “Mommy!” He called for Riley’s attention. “Messy, Fawon!”
Riley’s eyebrows raised in unison. Owen was articulate for two. She was surprised that he was spouting Fallon’s name already. Then again, she’d repeated it at least a thousand times in the last—how many hours had it been? Riley shook off the thought. The expression on Fallon’s face was priceless. Riley wasn’t certain if Fallon was actually wounded by the teasing or if the pout was solely for Owen’s benefit. It didn’t matter. Either way, it was another moment that endeared Fallon to Riley. It felt like eons since Riley had made a friend so quickly. She’d never examined that reality until now. Strange—Riley had always made friends quickly—close friends. As a child, it hadn’t been uncommon for Riley to meet someone in the morning and find herself having a sleepover that night. In college, Riley would invite people she met strolling across campus to her parties, often finding herself tangled in a mess of underclassmen on her dorm room floor. She and Robert had all kinds of friends they spent time with. After Owen was born, Riley joined some Mom’s groups. Within days she was hosting get-togethers at the house and talking on the phone about new motherhood with the women in her groups. That had all changed when Robert died. Riley withdrew. She supposed that was normal. Grief took over. Mourning didn’t come with a timetable. As she watched Fallon interact with Owen and Carol so effortlessly, Riley realized the culprit of the change in her life. It hadn’t been her grief. It had been everyone’s reaction to her grief. And, there it was again—the eggshells. Maybe I should deem it eggshell theory.
“Riley?”
“Huh?”
“You okay? Lost you there for a second,” Fallon said.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about something. What did you say?”
“That I like ketchup.”
Riley’s smile failed to reach her eyes.
“Hey.” Fallon reached over and covered Riley’s hand. “I know it’s been a little crazy. It really will be okay. We’re not as crazy as we seem. Well, maybe we are but we’re harmless.”
“Fallon,” Riley hesitated.
“What?”
“I would like to take you up on the offer.”
Fallon grinned.
“But you have to let me help somehow.”
“Help? Help with what?” Fallon asked.
“Whatever you need.”
“It will probably only be a few days.”
“Even so…”
“You’re not going to let this go.”
“No.”
“Fawon!” Owen yelled.
Fallon jumped and looked back at Owen.
“Down, Fawon.”
Riley looked on as Fallon wiped Owen’s face and lifted him from his seat. His feet hit the floor and he raised his hands.
“Up, Fawon.”
“Now, you want up?” Fallon picked Owen up and put him on her lap. He giggled.
“You’re silly,” Fallon tickled him. He laughed harder. She looked back at Riley. “I suck at laundry.”
“What?”
“Me. I suck at laundry. I always mix up the baskets. You know, which one is dirty and which one is clean? I end up washing everything ten times.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, for a couple of days you can help me with that.”
“Laundry?” Riley asked.
Fallon shrugged. “I’ve got nothing else.”
“Laundry it is then.”
***
“How long do you think you’ll have company?” Andi asked. She had met Riley briefly as Fallon was leaving to drive Riley and Owen back up the hill. Riley seemed friendly, albeit slightly frazzled. What struck Andi was how relaxed Fallon seemed. It didn’t surprise her. Fallon would never admit it, but Andi knew she was lonely. It was part of the reason Fallon spent so much time everywhere and anywhere but home. Fallon had brightened measurably as she simultaneously made Andi’s margarita and recapped her day with Riley Main, and the deal they had struck—lodging in exchange for laundry.
“Don’t know,” Fallon answered. “Depends on how familiar the tree got with the roof.”
Fallon pulled into Andi’s driveway. She had taken a ride with Riley out to the Main house to look at the situation. She hadn’t been able to get close enough to tell how much damage the tree had done. A downed power line prevented her from making it all the way up the driveway. She’d assured Riley that they would get some answers in the next couple of days. When they got back to the pub, Pete was pulling in with Andi in his truck. It had worked out perfectly for Fallon. She had made the excuse that she wanted to check on her mother’s house, so she could drop Andi home. She followed Andi to the door and let Andi close and lock it behind them.
“There is a bonus to this storm,” Fallon said.
“Oh? You mean besides someone to do your laundry. I wondered why you were always wrinkled.” Andi flung her coat over a chair, accepted Fallon’s and tossed it aside.
Fallon pulled Andi into her arms. “Wrinkled? I’m not even forty yet.”
Andi’s eyes sparkled with affection and desire. She was thankful for this time with Fallon. Thankful for the playful twinkle she noted in Fallon’s eyes. “Oh, less than a year, love.”
“Nine months, Andi. That’s a lifetime.”
Andi took Fallon’s face in her hands. She brought her lips to Fallon’s. “You’re shaking, Fallon. Are you cold?”
Cold? Andi could heat up an entire house with little more than a few words. Shaking? Fallon was positive the quivering in her body would seem like nothing shortly.
Andi’s eyes danced. Her hands fell to Fallon’s breasts. “Maybe you should go start a fire.”
Fallon’s eyes held Andi’s steadily. “A fire?”
“Mm. I don’t think I want to climb the stairs tonight.”
Fallon swallowed hard. One of these days she’s going to kill me.
Andi kissed Fallon softly. “Do you need to get home?” She teased.
“I don’t have a curfew.”
“Mm. You do have a guest.”
“What guest?”
Andi licked her lips. “I’ll get some wine.”
“I don’t need any wine.”
“Start the fire, Fallon.”
Fallon caught her breath as Andi walked into the kitchen.
Andi peered around the corner at Fallon as she readied the fireplace. She wanted Fallon, and she wanted to feel Fallon a certain way tonight. She had been tempted to push Fallon against the door and take her forcefully. Jake would be home tomorrow. Whether Fallon thought so, her life also just got a tad more complicated. Temporary guest? Perhaps that is what Riley Main would turn out to be. Andi was sure that Riley’s stay at Fallon’s home would be temporary. Something told her that Riley’s presence might prove more permanent, and not just in Whiskey Springs. Fallon had talke
d about Riley and Owen more than Andi had heard her talk about anything other than the pub in years. Something about the young woman had intrigued Fallon. That much was evident. Andi suspected it was more than that. She would never leap to the conclusion that Riley represented the love Fallon claimed she didn’t need in her life. Fallon could use a friend other than Carol who was also her employee, and other than Andi which carried its complications. She felt the winds of change at her back. Tonight, Andi wanted to take her time with Fallon. A fire, two glasses of wine, and Fallon—what else did she need? Nothing.
Fallon knelt in front of the fireplace. She felt Andi’s hand on her shoulder before she saw the wine glass being offered to her. “So, a fire?” Fallon asked.
Andi sat on the plush rug next to Fallon. She sipped her wine and set it aside on the table behind them. “Are you going to taste it?”
Fallon set her glass next to Andi’s. “Yes,” she replied. Her lips tasted Andi’s tentatively for a moment, her tongue sweeping across Andi’s lower lip, tasting the sweetness of Chardonnay before requesting entrance. Sweet and warm, Andi’s tongue caressed Fallon’s, imploring her to explore. Fallon’s heart sped up immediately. She pressed Andi backward onto the carpet and held her hands over her head. Her head dipped lower, her teeth nipping lightly at Andi’s neck.
Andi’s back arched, desperate for Fallon’s touch. How had she ended up beneath Fallon? She had intended to place Fallon beneath her, to undress Fallon slowly and touch every inch of the body she constantly sought to memorize. She strained against Fallon’s grip. Fallon pressed against her.
“No,” Fallon whispered. “Not tonight, Andi. Tonight, I am going to touch every inch of you—every inch.”
Andi moaned.
Fallon lifted Andi and relieved her of the soft, white sweater that had given only the vaguest hint of the treasures beneath. Fallon’s eyes traveled to the swell of Andi’s breasts. She wanted nothing between them. Methodically, Fallon removed every stitch of material that covered Andi’s body. Jesus, she is fucking hot. She was. Andi exuded sexiness. She carried herself with confidence, not cockiness—assuredness that made her infinitely more attractive. Andi had edges, not just curves. Hard and soft, contrast and contradiction, gentle and demanding—it made Fallon’s body sing.
“What were you thinking about last night?” Fallon asked.
Andi’s eyes searched Fallon’s. “You.”
“Mm. What about me?” Fallon challenged. “You thought about this?” Fallon’s tongue delicately circled one of Andi’s nipples and then the other.
Andi moaned again.
“Mmm,” Fallon hummed. “That?”
“Yes.”
“Just that?” Fallon asked.
“No,” Andi said.
“Show me,” Fallon said.
“You need to be naked for me to show you.”
Fallon smiled. “Is that what you want? Me naked.”
“Yes.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
Fallon stood and slowly stripped for Andi, delighting in the way Andi’s eyes followed her hands. “And?” Fallon asked.
Andi sat up and gripped Fallon’s hips.
“Yes?” Fallon asked.
Andi pulled Fallon gently.
Fallon fell back to her knees. She shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“Right—no.” Fallon pushed Andi back again and straddled her. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Her tongue bathed Andi’s neck and continued lower. “Thinking about you lying in bed last night touching yourself.”
Andi’s heart skipped wildly.
“Show me,” Fallon directed.
Andi looked at Fallon to gauge the seriousness of the request. Fallon’s eyes were fixed on hers. It was not a request; it was a direction. Andi watched as Fallon sat back on her heels, contemplating her. A deep breath and Andi let her hands fall to her breasts. Her fingertips danced over her nipples softly.
Fallon wondered if she would be able to hold her resolve. She desired Andi. She’d been fantasizing about this on and off all day, Andi touching herself, working herself into a frenzy while Fallon looked on. Just when Andi began to rise, Fallon would descend on her like a bird on unsuspecting prey and carry her away. That was Fallon’s plan—if she could keep her mounting lust at bay long enough.
Andi recognized the haze in Fallon’s eyes. She’d witnessed it many times. When Fallon did touch her, it wasn’t going to be gentle; it was going to be urgent. Anticipation drove Andi on. She wanted to feel Fallon’s power. She wanted to experience the power that coursed between them. Her fingers tugged at her nipples and her eyes closed. She heard Fallon’s groan of frustration and smiled inwardly. She would not make this easy for Fallon. Torture could be a two-way street. As much as she wanted to feel Fallon’s hands on her, Fallon’s mouth over hers, Fallon’s fingers inside her, what Andi desired most was to touch Fallon, taste Fallon, watch Fallon thrash beneath her, or perhaps above her until she shook uncontrollably. And, I will.
Fallon’s tongue wet her drying lips. Her mouth had gone dry. She imagined it was because all the moisture in her body had suddenly pooled between her legs. Andi made her crave release. Andi made Fallon think about things that Fallon would never consider with someone else. She felt no sense of timidity in Andi’s presence. She didn’t need to prove her love or guard her fantasies. She could unleash unbridled passion, speak her deepest longings; not the hopes in her heart but the cravings that existed within lust. Nothing she said would drive Andi away. There was little if anything she could take or ask for that would cause Andi offense. Knowing that set something primal free from her soul.
Andi’s hand dropped between her legs. She kept her eyes on Fallon. Fallon’s eyes followed Andi’s hand. Andi’s back arched and her fingers began to slide up and down the length of her arousal. She moaned, more for Fallon’s benefit than a need to release her mounting pleasure. And, her pleasure was mounting. “Mmmm.” Her fingertip circled her clit over and over, just enough to heighten her desire. “What do you want Fallon?”
“No.” Fallon held her ground. “You tell me what you want—what you imagine right now.”
“I want to taste every inch of you,” Andi answered honestly. “I want to be inside you. I want to hear you beg me to make you come.”
Fallon bit the inside of her lip. That was not what she expected Andi to say, and God did she want Andi to do that. She had thought Andi would ask for Fallon to touch her. Andi was onto her game. Fallon leaned into her lover’s ear. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you want?”
“Mmm.”
Fallon surprised Andi by dropping her breasts over Andi’s mouth. Andi wasted no time. She craned to suck a nipple into her mouth. God, she loved Fallon’s breasts. They were much larger than she had first imagined. Andi could touch and taste them for hours and not grow tired. She loved the way Fallon’s breath would hitch and sputter when she played with them; the way Fallon’s hips would lift and she would grip her lower lip with her teeth. Feeling Fallon sway above her made Andi dizzy. Fallon’s movements were sensual and feminine. Instinctively, Andi’s fingers began to circle her clit more forcefully. Touching Fallon aroused her past the point of sense.
Fallon grinned inwardly. “Tell me,” she asked, stopping to moan when Andi’s teeth raked over a sensitive nipple. “Tell me what you want right now.”
Andi was gone. “Fuck me. Fallon…Please. I want you to fuck me.”
That was it. Fallon tore herself away from Andi’s eager tongue and descended her body languidly. She removed Andi’s hand and tasted the length of Andi’s need.
“Jesus!” Andi screamed.
“Not quite,” Fallon replied playfully. She flipped Andi over and guided her to her knees.
Oh, God. Andi shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d told Fallon what she wanted. Fallon was about to oblige.
Fallon’s hands ran over Andi’s ass tenderly.
Her finger slid down the valley that separated two supple, quivering cheeks. “You are so wet,” she breathed. She felt Andi’s ass back into her, pleading for contact. Fallon entered Andi gently with two fingers.
“Oh… Yes… Fallon, please.”
“Tell me,” Fallon said. “Please what?”
“Please, fuck me. Fallon, please.”
Fallon complied, thrusting into Andi deeply—in and out in long, soft but forceful strokes until Andi’s ass moved to meet her in a well-timed rhythm. Fallon’s eyes were riveted to the sight before her; the expanse of Andi’s back as it stretched and contracted. Her creamy skin, and the way her hair brushed over her shoulders. The smoldering gaze in those grey eyes when Andi looked over her shoulder. Andi was hot. No, Andi was fucking hot. Everything about Andi turned Fallon on—everything. Not for the first time, Fallon found herself grateful that she had taken Andi as a lover. Sometimes, she missed making love. Sex with Andi never fell over that line. It hovered there. It never descended into the tender ripples of making love. Being with Andi was like walking through a tornado. It was swirling and violent. It sucked you up unexpectedly, turned you about until you lost all bearing, and then offered you one-second of complete silence before you crashed violently. It was nothing short of thrilling. No wonder people became storm chasers.
Andi’s toes curled in time with Fallon’s fingers. Fallon’s thumb pressed against her clit, never making any move to explore. Each time Fallon thrust into her, Fallon’s thumb would glide over that sensitive point, taking Andi higher. Her muscles gripped Fallon’s fingers, desperate for release, desperate for Fallon. Her mind spun with images of Fallon hovering above her, tasting Fallon’s breasts, playing until Fallon begged her for more. Right now, Andi would be happy to beg. She’d give Fallon anything she asked for—anything.
Fallon’s center throbbed. God, she needed to feel Andi. She would be thinking about this night every day until they could repeat it. And, she was positive she would need to relieve the ache before then. It would never compare to this. “I want you to come,” Fallon said.
Andi’s head fell, her hips bucked, and she let herself go. Anything you want, Fallon. Anything.
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