Just Physical

by Jae

  Crash dropped her arms back to the bed and grasped two handfuls of the sheet.

  Jill slid a little to the side so she could have better access to Crash’s body. She trailed her right hand down Crash’s chest, this time not detouring to her breasts. Her fingertips traced the bands of muscles in Crash’s abdomen and then teased the sensitive spot where her hips met her legs before caressing the incredibly soft skin on the inside of her thighs.

  As she trailed her fingers higher, Crash’s breath hitched. Groaning, she lifted her head to watch Jill’s fingertips dip into her damp curls and then, with another groan, let her head fall back against the pillow.

  The sounds and feel of her made Jill nearly dizzy with desire. Unable to wait any longer, she slid one finger between Crash’s folds, stroked across her clit, and then slowly pressed into her.

  “Jill…so… Oh, yes!”

  Jill held still for a moment, marveling at the wetness and heat, then she slowly began to move.

  A guttural groan tore from Crash’s throat. “Faster.”

  At the need in Crash’s voice, Jill moved her finger faster against the straining of Crash’s muscles.

  Crash’s hips kept in rhythm with her hand. They moved together so effortlessly as if they had done it a hundred times before.

  The tendons in Crash’s neck stood out in sharp relief. Her breath came in ragged gasps.

  Jill wished for this moment to last forever, but she didn’t want to torture Crash.

  When she added a second finger, Crash’s back bowed. Her thrusts against Jill’s hand became more urgent. The wild look of abandon on her face made Jill’s belly twist with desire. Then Crash’s entire body tensed. With a shout, she collapsed back onto the bed.

  Once the contractions stopped, Jill withdrew her fingers and watched as Crash’s eyes blinked open. Their gazes met.

  A slow, satisfied smile spread over Crash’s face. “Is there a rule against complimenting your technique?” she asked breathlessly.

  Jill grinned back, glad that Crash was keeping this light and fun. “Nope. That’s not only allowed; it’s highly recommended.”

  “Then consider yourself complimented.” A shuddery breath escaped her, and she shook her head as if having to clear it. “God, you’re good. Let’s see if I can keep up.” Instead of rolling them over so that she was on top, she patted her muscular thighs. “Straddle me.”

  A jolt of desire went straight to Jill’s core. Hoping her left leg would hold up, she straddled Crash’s lap and slowly lowered herself. When her wet flesh touched Crash’s smooth thighs, all thoughts of the MS vanished. She had to fight the urge to rub herself against Crash’s gorgeous body like a cat in heat. If she did, this would be over too fast. “Touch me.”

  Crash rasped her teeth over her own bottom lip as if having to restrain herself. She looked up at Jill with smoldering eyes. “Don’t worry. I will.”

  Jill loved the way she looked at her. It made her feel sexy. Alive. Healthy. God, she had missed this.

  With Jill straddling her lap, Crash sat up. Her impressive abdominal muscles flexed against Jill, making her moan. Crash’s skin, damp and glistening with sweat, felt like silk against her own.

  Crash ducked her head and took one nipple into her mouth while rolling the other between her thumb and forefinger. Her other hand moved around Jill to massage one of her ass cheeks and pull her closer against her belly.

  Groaning, Jill rocked against her. “Touch me,” she said again, no longer sure whether she was giving orders or begging—and no longer sure if she cared. She grasped the hand that was caressing her breast and brought it down. “Touch me here.”

  “Like this?” Crash rubbed one fingertip over Jill’s clit in light circles, then slipped lower to tease her entrance with soft strokes while her other hand was still kneading Jill’s ass.

  Jesus. Jill sucked in a sharp breath. Those hands were magic. The muscles in her belly and thighs were already starting to quiver. “Inside. Now.” She clasped Crash’s wrist and guided her down.

  Their groans mingled as Crash slid inside with two fingers. Her other hand came to rest on the small of her back, guiding her, as Jill began to rock against her.

  Crash’s hot mouth was on her neck.

  Through the haze of lust, Jill somehow had the presence of mind to gasp out, “No marks. Don’t leave any… God, yes!”

  Crash had shifted her palm a little so that she could now stroke Jill’s clit with her thumb without interrupting the rhythm of her other fingers.

  The movements of Jill’s hips became erratic. So close. So… She leaned down and kissed Crash hard until she had to break the kiss to gasp for breath.

  Crash flexed her fingers inside of her, at the same time raking her teeth over the sensitive area below Jill’s ear.

  “Oh! Crash!” She arched against her one last time, then orgasm hit and she collapsed against her with a shout.

  Crash held Jill close and guided her down, onto her side. She stayed with her, stilling her fingers but not removing them.

  Dazed and unable to move, Jill allowed her head to rest against Crash’s shoulder. This wasn’t cuddling, she told herself. She would move away as soon as she regained use of her limbs. “You should consider yourself complimented too,” she said when her breathing finally slowed. Her voice was hoarse and her throat dry. “Was I shouting?”

  “Let’s just say I hope the people in the neighboring rooms don’t belong to our crew,” Crash said with a daredevilish grin.

  Jill blushed, but she didn’t look away from Crash’s heated gaze. “Yeah, let’s hope so, because we’ve only just gotten started.” Her body felt sated and exhausted, but she couldn’t get enough, especially knowing that this would be the only night they had.

  “Oh, is that so?” Crash drawled. Without waiting for Jill’s reply, she started moving her fingers again. It was as if she had learned to read Jill’s body perfectly already; she immediately hit the right spot.

  Her head falling back, Jill groaned.

  “Too much?” Crash asked, stilling her fingers.

  “No. God, no. Perfect.”

  Crash started moving again and, within moments, sent her spiraling a second time.

  Crash collapsed onto the damp sheets and stared at the ceiling, nearly cross-eyed with pleasure. Jesus. Maybe she would miss out if she gave up on one-night stands. Hmm, but then again, maybe not. Because if this were a relationship and not a one-night stand, she wouldn’t have hesitated to wrap her arms around Jill and cradle her against her body while they enjoyed the afterglow. She turned onto her side and regarded Jill.

  Cuddling hadn’t been mentioned in Jill’s collection of rules one way or another, but Crash didn’t want this incredible experience to end on an unpleasant note by touching Jill in a way that wouldn’t be welcome.

  They lay facing each other, sharing the same pillow but not touching.

  Jill’s normally creamy-pale skin was flushed and her breathing was still a little uneven.

  During their lovemaking—sex, she mentally corrected herself—she hadn’t thought of Jill’s illness. Well, truth be told, there hadn’t been much thinking going on at all. But now she worried that Jill would have a price to pay for exerting herself like that.

  Crash cleared her throat. “Jill?”

  “Hmm?” Jill’s eyelids had drooped to half-mast, but now she forced them open and glanced over at her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Never been better,” Jill said. As if to prove it, she reached for Crash again.

  “Oh, God.” Crash grabbed her wrist and stilled her hand against her lower abdomen. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re wearing me out.”

  “I have a lot to make up for. Two years is a long time.” Jill smiled and her tone was light as if it were just a funny quip, but there was something in her eyes that loo
ked strangely like grief.

  Crash studied her. “Two years… Is that how long you’ve known about the MS?”

  “That’s when the first symptoms started, but it took a while until the doctors came up with the diagnosis.”

  “And you haven’t been with anyone since?” Crash couldn’t help asking.

  “Nope,” Jill said. Her tone was still casual, but Crash sensed the emotions lurking beneath.

  “I’m glad you didn’t keep denying yourself this.” Crash gestured at their naked bodies.

  “Me too,” Jill whispered. But instead of wrapping her arms around Crash and kissing her, she pulled her hand out from under Crash’s and moved to her side of the bed. Something in her face closed off.

  Crash stared over at her; then her gaze flicked to the door. “Do you want me to go?”

  This whole situation had heartbreak written all over it. Maybe she should leave before she got even more involved than she already was. There were a dozen good reasons why she should get up, gather her clothes, and leave, yet part of her still hoped that Jill would want her to stay.

  “No,” Jill said and then added, “I mean, it’s the middle of the night. We wouldn’t want any of our colleagues to see you sneak out of my room.”

  “Right.” Crash peeked over at her. Was that really the only reason Jill wanted her to stay? The way Jill looked at her said something else.

  Jill turned around, away from her, interrupting their eye contact. “The bed is big enough for us both,” she said over her shoulder. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

  Crash turned off the light but lay there without closing her eyes, staring at the contours of Jill’s naked back in the near darkness. Her body was still humming with pleasure, but the rest of her was much less satisfied.

  What would happen now? Would this really stay a one-time thing? She couldn’t imagine never touching Jill again. But what were the alternatives?

  The darkness didn’t hold any answers.

  She listened to Jill’s breathing as it evened out into the soft rhythm of sleep. It took a long time before Crash nodded off too.

  CHAPTER 10

  A familiar jabbing pain in her toes woke Jill from an unusually sound sleep. She stayed still and listened. No distant hum of city traffic filtered into the room, so it was probably early. Without opening her eyes or sitting up, she took stock of her body, as she did every morning. Waves of tingling shot up and down her left leg. She gritted her teeth against the feeling as if ants were crawling all over her calf. The rest of her body felt heavy, but there was no other pain, no scary new symptom.

  Something else was new, though. Her right leg and arm were draped over a warm body and her head rested on a chest that lifted and fell in the soft pattern of sleep.

  Crash. Memories of last night shot through her mind in vivid images. God, no wonder she felt exhausted. She hadn’t known she still possessed the energy to have sex for hours on end. Being with Crash had been like a drug, making her crave more.

  Not just more sex, but more of everything. She wanted to snuggle closer, trying to shut out the world for a little longer and let Crash’s calm breathing lull her back to sleep. As long as she hadn’t gotten up, the day hadn’t officially started, so she hadn’t broken their just-one-night agreement.

  She allowed herself to soak up the feeling of Crash’s naked body against hers for another minute, then called herself to order.

  Enough. You have to face reality sooner or later, so cut out the rosy afterglow.

  The pressure in her bladder told her that staying in bed was not an option anyway. If she didn’t want to wake Crash with a wetness of a different kind, she had to get up—now.

  She took a deep breath, as always a little tense before first getting up in the morning. How she missed those carefree days of the past when she had just opened her eyes and jumped out of bed without being afraid to discover that she had gone blind or couldn’t move.

  So far, it hadn’t happened, but that didn’t stop that nagging fear from always lurking in the back of her mind. Another deep breath and she lifted her arm and withdrew her leg from around Crash.

  So far, so good.

  Her limbs seemed relatively okay. Now on to her eyesight. She opened her eyes. The gray light of dawn filtered through the curtains of the hotel room. Her gaze traced Crash’s chiseled features, which were relaxed in sleep and looked even more appealing in the shadowy half-light. Her hair was disheveled from the way Jill had run her fingers through it and clutched Crash’s head last night. A black lock of hair had tumbled onto her brow, and Jill had to fight the urge to push back that smooth strand and press a kiss to the sensual curve of Crash’s mouth.

  Annoyed with herself, she directed her gaze elsewhere. The glowing red numbers of the alarm clock told her it was nearly five. Okay, so her eyesight worked too. With that encouraging inventory of her body done, she quietly slipped out of bed.

  Her legs felt weak, as if she’d run a marathon. Her body would definitely hate her later today, when she had to shoot that dancing scene in the ballroom of San Francisco’s only intact Victorian building. Yeah, but it sure as hell didn’t hate me last night.

  Her bladder reminded her that there was no time to indulge in pleasant memories, so she grabbed a change of clothes and rushed toward the bathroom as fast as her wobbly legs would carry her.

  At the door, she turned back around and watched Crash, who lay fast asleep, only half covered by the rumpled sheets. Her gaze traced the curve of the one breast that was visible and then over one strong shoulder and up to Crash’s face, which looked completely peaceful.

  For a moment, she let herself wonder whether Crash would think back to last night every now and then too. She resolutely told herself it didn’t matter and entered the bathroom.

  Once she had taken care of business, she stepped into the shower and thoroughly spread soap over her body, forcing herself to wash off all traces of Crash.

  When she dried off and got dressed, her gaze fell on the box of syringes that she had placed on the marble counter next to the soaps and little shampoo bottles with the hotel’s logo. The daily injections were supposed to reduce the frequency and severity of her relapses. Good thing she hadn’t put her medication in the fridge, as she did at home. While the prefilled syringes could be kept at room temperature for up to a month, the manufacturer recommended refrigerating them. Usually, she took one out the evening before so it could warm up a little, but last night, she definitely would have forgotten. She liked to get her injection over with first thing in the morning so she didn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day, but she couldn’t do that if it wasn’t the right temperature.

  She glanced at the bathroom door. Everything was quiet on the other side, but she still went to the door and locked it before returning to the sink. This was a ritual that she needed to perform in privacy. She laid out one of the syringes, a cotton pad, and an alcohol wipe. The gel pads she normally used to warm up the injection site beforehand and then cool it afterward were in the other room, but she didn’t want to risk waking Crash by getting them.

  She’d lost track of time as she often did when shooting on location, so she had to think a moment to remember that it was Tuesday. Right thigh day. Much better than Saturday and Sunday, when she had to inject herself into the back of her arms, which were hard to reach, especially since she had no hand free to pinch the skin before putting the needle in.

  After pulling her jeans down and sitting on the closed toilet, she swiped the alcohol pad over her skin and removed the syringe from its blister pack while she waited for it to dry. She removed the needle cap and carefully shook a drop of the medication from the tip of the needle, knowing it would irritate the skin if it came into direct contact with it. Without hesitation, she pinched a bit of skin between thumb and index finger of her left hand and was just about to insert the needle into her thigh whe
n a knock came at the door.

  Jesus F. Christ! She barely stopped herself from flinching and stabbing herself with the needle.

  “Jill?” Crash called through the door. “Are you in there?”

  “Uh, yeah. Do you need the bathroom?” Jill asked, trying to sound normal, as if Crash hadn’t startled her.

  “No, I can wait. It’s just that you’ve been in there for a while, so I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  Crash’s concern felt good, but at the same time, it reminded her that she wasn’t healthy; she was someone whose well-being couldn’t be taken for granted. “I’m fine,” she called through the door. “I’m just…getting dressed.”

  She bit her lip as soon as she’d said it. Great. Now she was acting like a junkie who locked herself into a bathroom to shoot herself up with heroin and then lied about what she’d been doing.

  “Okay,” Crash answered.

  Then everything was silent. Was she waiting for Jill to say something? That was exactly why Jill didn’t do one-night stands. Mornings after were just too awkward.

  Pressing her lips together, she again pinched up a bit of skin and inserted the needle into the side of her leg. The sting made her wince, but she ignored it and pushed the plunger all the way down. It burned more than usual. She sucked in a sharp breath as she pulled the needle out, released the skin, and pressed the cotton ball to her thigh. Damn. She’d injected the medication too fast. Now she’d end up with an itching red lump on her thigh. That hadn’t happened since she’d gotten used to injecting herself.

  “Jill?” Crash called. Her voice sounded so close as if she was leaning against the door. “Are you really okay?”

  Jill bit her lip to hold back a gruff reply. “Just peachy.”

  “Are…we okay?” Crash asked more quietly.

  “Of course.” Jill stood, pulled up her pants, and dropped the empty syringe into her disposal container. “It was fun, and now that we got it out of our systems, we can move on.”