Just Physical

by Jae

  Slipping her hands beneath Crash’s T-shirt and sliding it up, Jill murmured, “I believe,” she bent and pressed a kiss to Crash’s flat belly, “we were right here.”

  Then they both stopped talking as they sank back onto the sofa bed.

  CHAPTER 13

  Crash woke at six, as she usually did. Unlike most days, she wasn’t eager to get up and go for a run. The warm body behind her felt too good. Jill’s front fit against her back as if they were two parts of one piece, molded for each other.

  Now you’ve gone crazy. You agreed to keep it just physical, remember?

  Carefully, she turned and watched Jill sleep. She reached out and pushed back a strand of copper hair before it could tickle Jill’s nose.

  Jill slept on, undisturbed.

  God, she looks exhausted. No wonder. She hadn’t kept Jill up all night, but she’d come close. They’d both been just as insatiable as the first time, back in San Francisco, and it had been just as good.

  At least physically. She sensed that they’d both held something back. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. It had been the norm for the past two years, when she’d stuck to one-night stands and short flings. So what if she had one more?

  But Jill was not just another woman in a string of meaningless conquests. Yes, Crash had once again agreed to Jill’s rules, but that didn’t stop her from hoping that she’d win Jill over to the idea of dating. Just dating, not a lifetime commitment. Crash wasn’t ready for that either, but a date she could handle.

  Maybe Jill just needed a little time to come to the same conclusion.

  What if time won’t change a thing? she wondered.

  Well, she would survive. It wasn’t as if she was hopelessly in love with Jill, right?

  Right. Resolutely, she forced herself to roll away from Jill’s warmth and out of bed.

  As soon as she started to move away, Jill let out an irritated groan. Her hands slid over the sheet as if looking for Crash.

  Aww. How cute. She’s missing me already. Crash grinned down at her, then called herself an idiot, and forced herself to walk away from the bed and the sleeping woman. Maybe a run would help her clear her head.

  A cool touch to the inside of her wrist woke Jill. “Oh God, no,” she mumbled, still half asleep. “Not again. I really can’t, or I won’t be able to walk on Monday.”

  Her spirit was more than willing, but her body was simply exhausted and sore in ways that weren’t entirely unpleasant.

  When Crash didn’t answer, Jill opened one eye. Bright sunlight streamed in through the balcony doors, and she blinked a few times before realizing it hadn’t been Crash that had woken her.

  Instead of looking into Crash’s passion-clouded blue eyes, she stared into a pair of brown ones.

  Tramp nosed her bare forearm again.

  Oh no. The poor guy was probably close to exploding. Thank God she’d at least fed him before heading over to Grace’s cottage last night.

  A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the spot next to her was empty. She tried not to be hurt that Crash had just gotten out of bed while she’d been asleep.

  This is what you wanted, remember? Just a physical thing. No pillow talk on the morning after required.

  She fisted the pillow beneath her head, which smelled of Crash and made her want to burrow deeper. With a grunt of frustration, she shoved it away.

  Just when she was about to try out how steady her legs were, the door to what Jill assumed was the bathroom opened and Crash stepped out, fully dressed.

  For a moment, Jill felt very naked in comparison. Well, she was naked, since she had fallen asleep after making love last night. She wrestled the impulse to pull the sheet higher up her body. Don’t be ridiculous. She saw every inch of you already. Several times.

  But the way Crash gazed down at her made her feel as if she saw so much more than just her body.

  In a tank top and a pair of cut-off sweatpants, Crash walked over to the bed. Her hair was damp and pushed back from her face, revealing her strong features.

  Jill felt an almost painful tug in her belly.

  “Good morning,” Crash said with a smile and settled onto the sofa bed next to Jill, close but not quite touching.

  Her closeness instantly made Jill’s body react, tired as it was. She struggled against the urge to touch the damp strands clinging to Crash’s neck. You can’t possibly want more. Get out of bed. Now.

  But she didn’t move. “Good morning. Wow. I must have been really out of it. I didn’t hear you get up.”

  “Yeah. You were. Seems we really tired you out,” Crash said with a small grin. “You can sleep a little longer if you want. It’s Sunday, after all.”

  Jill shook her head energetically, not sure whom she wanted to convince—Crash or herself. “Tramp needs to go outside.”

  “I doubt it. I took him with me when I went for my run.” Crash pointed to the yoga mat, where Tramp now lay, looking as if Jill wasn’t the only one Crash had powered out. “I hope that was okay.”

  “You went for a run?” Jill echoed. How on earth could Crash go for a run after a night like the last one, when Jill wasn’t even sure she could walk? She reached over and ran her hands along Crash’s limbs.

  Crash chuckled but held still and let Jill examine her. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for your hidden cyborg technology. You can’t be human.” Instead of artificial joints or super-human muscles, her fingers encountered warm skin beneath the tank top. “Hmm. Maybe I should stay in bed a little longer after all.”

  Crash pulled the tank top up over her head and rolled on top of her. “Maybe you should.”

  For once, it wasn’t the little electric shocks zapping through her feet that woke Jill; it was a soft movement beneath her head. She opened her eyes and blinked into the bright late-morning light. It took her a moment to realize she’d fallen back asleep.

  She settled back with her head again resting on Crash’s chest, which was lifting and falling in a steady rhythm. Their legs were tangled, and one of her arms was wrapped around Crash’s middle. Both of Crash’s arms were holding her close, her fingers splayed across Jill’s back as if trying to achieve maximum contact. Her warmth and scent surrounded Jill, creating a bubble of comfort.

  For a few moments, Jill imagined waking up in Crash’s arms every morning for the rest of her life.

  Impossible. She mentally shook her head at herself. But for the first time there was another voice piping up in her mind. Why shouldn’t it be possible?

  She hadn’t had a relapse in about a year, and her last MRI hadn’t shown any new lesions. Sure, her symptoms flared every now and then, but so far, they were just minor annoyances, nothing major that put her into the hospital or into a wheelchair. She did have a few limitations, but for the most part, she could live her life the way she wanted. Maybe she was one of the lucky ones and her MS would turn out a very mild, stable form. Could she have a relationship of some kind after all, maybe just date casually, as Crash had suggested? Was it possible to keep the MS and a relationship separate, so she wouldn’t end up a burden to her partner?

  She tightened her hold on Crash, afraid to let herself hope. But as much as she tried to shut them out, Crash’s words kept echoing through her head. You’re still you. You’re still a great actress and a wonderful woman, and nothing, not even the MS, can change that. Somehow, those words had cracked open a door that Jill had thought closed forever.

  “Hmm, good morning…again.” Crash’s voice rumbled through her. She trailed her hand over Jill’s hip.

  Almost without her conscious will, Jill snuggled closer, allowing herself to enjoy the caress.

  But instead of sliding her hand down to cup Jill’s ass, Crash paused. A tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. She gently circled a tender spot on the back of Jill’s hip with the tip of her
index finger. “What’s this?”

  Jill craned her neck to see what she meant. When she realized that Crash was pointing at one of last week’s injection sites, where a red spot the size of a quarter had formed, she stiffened. So much for being able to have a relationship without MS. “It’s nothing.” She slipped out of bed and reached for her clothes, which had ended up on the floor last night.

  Crash sat up and watched her with a frown. “Did I say or do—?”

  “No. I just have to get going. Tramp needs his breakfast.” And I need the toilet and my damn injection. Crash’s question had been a reminder that she couldn’t just spend a lazy Sunday morning in bed with a lover the way most other people could. She put on her panties and her jeans, covering the red spot on her hip, and then wrestled with the closure of her bra. Shit. Her fine motor skills weren’t the best this morning.

  Crash got up and tried to take over the task. “Let me. I’m not just good at taking bras off, you know?” She winked at her.

  But Jill didn’t want help dressing. She sidestepped Crash’s hands, stuffed the bra into the pocket of her jeans, and slipped her T-shirt over her head.

  Crash dropped her hands, letting them dangle at her sides. Her gaze tracked Jill as she searched all over the room for her shoes, but she didn’t try to approach her again.

  Jill bit the inside of her cheek. She hated this sudden tension, but it was a good reminder of why she couldn’t allow herself to get in too deep. Finally, she found her shoes beneath the coffee table and slipped them on.

  Crash put on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and followed her to the door, where they lingered. “Jill…”

  “Shhh. Don’t say anything.” That was the beauty of a purely physical fling after all—no need to explain herself or to talk about her MS. Jill softly pressed her fingertips to Crash’s mouth, then, unable to resist, replaced them with her lips.

  Moaning, Crash wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close. Their bodies touched all along their lengths, breast to breast and thigh to thigh.

  It took several minutes before Jill could force herself to back away. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you,” Crash said, leaning against the door as if her knees had gone weak.

  With a slight smile, Jill pointed. “You’re blocking the door.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Crash straightened and took a step to the side.

  Jill clipped on Tramp’s leash and headed out without allowing herself to look back.

  CHAPTER 14

  Jill didn’t see much of Crash the next week, mostly because Floyd had her do reaction shots—close-ups showing her character’s emotional reactions to the horrible injuries caused by the earthquake and fires.

  No stuntwomen were required for those scenes. Crash’s absence from the set gave Jill some much-needed distance, but sometimes, when she had a quiet moment, she also admitted to herself that she missed running lines with Crash or just hanging out with her in the trailer.

  When they broke for lunch on Friday, Jill had almost given up hope of seeing her before the weekend. But when she headed for the craft services tent, she heard familiar footsteps from behind.

  Her heartbeat picked up. She turned and came face-to-face with Crash.

  Instead of a period costume, she wore a pair of faded jeans that fit her like a second skin and made Jill’s gaze linger on her athletic legs.

  “Hi,” they said at the same time, then fell silent.

  Crash bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet and pointed at the tent. “Are you heading to lunch?”

  Jill nodded, glad that Crash had broken the silence. “Yeah. I’m going to pig out for once. Floyd didn’t like that burn-victim scene when he reviewed yesterday’s dailies, so he had us do another dozen takes. I need chocolate, or I won’t survive this afternoon’s reaction shots.”

  “Ouch. Sounds like an emergency.” Crash gave her a commiserating look and held open the flap of the craft services tent for her. Her hand came to rest on the small of Jill’s back as she followed her in.

  The little gesture felt good. No harm in letting herself enjoy it as long as they both knew it didn’t mean they were a couple. Jill smiled and looked back over her shoulder. “Want me to grab a Snickers for you too?”

  “No, thanks. I have to do a glass stunt later today, and I don’t want to get the sugar jitters. Just some salad for me.”

  Glass stunt? Jill wondered what that involved. Nothing dangerous, she hoped. Instead of voicing her concern, she forced a grin onto her face. “Can I have your chocolate bar, then?”

  “If they don’t get to it first.” Crash pointed to the front of the tent.

  Jill turned and groaned.

  It looked as if the entire grip department had descended on the craft services tent. At least a dozen broad-shouldered men were digging into the food as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

  “Damn. That’s against Maggie’s rules,” Jill muttered.

  “Maggie’s rules?” Crash gave a slight smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Are they anything like your rules of no commitment?”

  “No, not exactly. Well, maybe one. When I got my first role in a movie seven years ago, one of the more seasoned actresses took me under her wing. She told me that there are five cardinal rules of survival on every set.”

  “Ooh, I gotta hear this. So, what are they?”

  Distractedly, Jill watched as the grips started decimating the pile of chocolate bars on the table. She hoped there would be at least one left by the time she reached the front of the line. “Well, we just broke rule number one. Always get to the craft services table before the guys from the grip department do.”

  The grip department wasn’t only one of the largest on set, but the grips also worked up quite an appetite by hauling heavy equipment and sandbags all day.

  “Good rule,” Crash said. “What are the others?”

  “Always show up on set at least ten minutes before call time.”

  “Check. You’re always on time. What else?”

  “Always turn off your cell phone on set.”

  “Check.” Crash ticked it off on her fingers. “And?”

  “Never try to guess your wrap time, or you’ll jinx it.”

  Crash laughed. “Ha! So you’re superstitious too! I take it that’s also a check?”

  Jill shrugged. “Whenever I thought we were going to wrap early, we ended up having to stay late because something went wrong, so I learned to respect Maggie’s rule number four.”

  “Makes sense. So, what’s rule number five?” Crash asked.

  Finally looking away from the quickly disappearing chocolate, Jill glanced at Crash for a second before lowering her gaze to her fake-dust-covered boots. She wished she’d never mentioned Maggie’s rules. “Uh, I think I’ll go and try to charm the grips into giving me one of the chocolate bars.”

  “Not so fast.” Crash gently held on to her arm. “You can’t leave me without sharing the wisdom of rule number five. Don’t force me to tickle it out of you.”

  The memory of their last tickle match sent shivers up and down Jill’s body. She had to clear her throat twice before she could speak. “You wouldn’t dare. Not here.”

  “Oh, you think so? There’s not much a stuntwoman wouldn’t dare to do,” Crash said, a challenging gleam in her eyes.

  They had agreed on just a physical thing, so why was it so hard to tell her about rule number five? Jill sighed and said, “Never hook up with anyone on set until the very last week of the shoot.”

  In the sudden silence between them, the shuffling of Jill’s feet appeared to be overly loud.

  Crash coughed. “Well, um…” She lowered her voice. “I guess three out of five ain’t so bad, right?”

  “I guess so.” Jill knew she should leave it at that, but instead she found herself reaching out to touch Crash’s arm
. “Just for the record: I don’t regret breaking rule number five.”

  “No?” Crash’s ice-blue eyes searched hers.

  “No.” It was the truth. When she was with Crash, passion swept away everything else, including worries about her health. For once, her body was a source of pleasure instead of frustration. But that’s not all you like about being with her, is it? She ignored the thought and held Crash’s gaze until the intensity of their eye contact became too much. Glancing away, she added, “But I wish I hadn’t ignored rule number one.”

  Behind them, more grips entered the tent.

  “Oh-oh.” Crash widened her eyes comically. “Chocolate is now on the list of endangered food items.”

  “Damn. Now I wish I had a secret stash in my trailer, like any other actress on set.”

  “You really want that chocolate badly, don’t you?”

  Wanting things she couldn’t have… That seemed to be the norm for her lately. She nodded.

  “Okay. Hold this.” Crash pressed her water bottle into Jill’s hands and sauntered over to the grips at the front of the line, her stride confident, as if she owned not just the craft services tent but the entire set.

  Jill watched her from behind. Never had a pair of faded jeans looked so sexy, and knowing that Crash was jumping into the fray to rescue some chocolate for her made her even more attractive.

  Jill couldn’t hear what she said to the men, but she watched Crash’s body language. Crash wasn’t exactly flirting, but suddenly every smile, every subtle movement held a magnetism that was hard to resist. She leaned against the table in a pose of relaxed casualness while she gestured at the remaining chocolate bars. Her sensual lips quirked into a smile as she said something that made the key grip laugh.

  God, those lips… Suddenly, the need to kiss those lips surpassed the need for chocolate.

  Crash returned, triumphantly holding a Snickers bar aloft.

  Instead of reaching for the chocolate bar, Jill grabbed Crash’s arm and dragged her from the tent.