by Radclyffe
Candace wrapped both arms around Parker’s neck and pressed her face against her throat. Her hips undulated with the building pressure. “Just shut up and make me come.”
Parker laughed. “Aren’t you doing that right now?”
“Uh-huh.” Candace bit down on the thick muscle at the base of Parker’s neck as she closed around Parker’s fingers and her orgasm spilled out.
“Beautiful,” Parker whispered, her clit jumping as Candace shuddered. “You make me so hot.”
“Keep going,” Candace gasped weakly, caressing Parker’s face, then her breasts. Parker groaned and Candace slipped her hand lower, drawing teasing circles on Parker’s stomach. “I want to come again. Want to come with me?”
“Oh yeah, please.”
“What…what do you want?”
Parker lifted her hips. “Just stroke me.”
Candace pushed herself up and straddled Parker’s stomach with Parker’s hand still inside her. She reached back, gripped Parker’s wet center, and squeezed. On the verge of climaxing herself, she laughed wildly as Parker stiffened and her eyes rolled back.
“Yes, oh baby yes.” Parker arched her back, her free hand grasping air.
“Parker,” Candace snapped. “Don’t you dare come yet.”
“Jesus,” Parker gasped, her face a mask of pained pleasure. “What do you want from me?”
“Fuck me,” Candace growled, rolling her palm over Parker’s clit. Parker thrust into her, hard, and again, harder, and Candace started to come. Above the raging scream of her own orgasm, she heard Parker cry out. Then there was nothing except mind-melting pleasure.
Moments later, Candace fell over onto her back and sighed. “That was excellent.”
“Yes,” Parker said, her voice a husky whisper. “It certainly was.”
Lazily, Candace turned her head on the pillow and regarded Parker. Her hair was damp, her neck and chest still flushed with satisfaction. The muscles in her neck that had been so tight as she orgasmed just seconds before now fluttered delicately beneath her sweat-slick skin. Candace always took pleasure in pleasing a lover, but seeing Parker so completely unguarded struck her as indescribably beautiful. Candace’s chest constricted with unfamiliar emotion, and she immediately had the urge to flee.
“Feel free to use the shower,” Candace said.
“You’re right, I need one.” Parker rolled over, kissed her until Candace was on the verge of asking her to stay, then pulled away. “Go back to sleep. It’s still early.”
“Thanks.” Candace smiled and caressed Parker’s cheek. “See you around.”
Parker’s eyes were dark, unreadable. “See you.”
*
Liz munched on soda crackers as she gathered her purse and keys. Happily, her stomach was cooperating for a change, and she thought she might actually be able to eat breakfast. Out of habit, she slowed in front of the mirror in the vestibule. During the week on her way to work, she checked her makeup, but today she checked her figure. Her jeans had seemed the tiniest bit tight when she tucked in her pale green scoop tee. She was just a little past ten weeks, and she didn’t think she should be showing yet. Even naked she hadn’t been able to discern any difference in her body. Still, she felt a little self-conscious, although she didn’t know why she should. Whether or not Reilly Danvers found her attractive was not high on her “important things I need in life” list.
Resolutely, she reached for the door only to stop almost immediately as her cell vibrated on her hip.
“Liz Ramsey,” she said, not even bothering to check the caller ID. It was too early on a Saturday for Candace, and Bren rarely called, not being a phone person. So it was likely the office.
“Did I wake you?” a soft, sultry voice inquired.
Liz’s stomach plummeted and she braced one arm against the door as her legs threatened to go wobbly. She took in a slow breath to make sure her voice didn’t quaver. “No. I was just on my way out.”
“You’re not working so early on a Saturday, are you?”
“Julia, you never cared when I worked before. Why are you calling?” Liz was pleased to hear that her voice held an edge. She hated that a simple phone call from Julia could unsettle her. But then, everything unsettled her these days. The other night she’d cried over a car commercial.
“I was hoping I could come by this morning.”
“Why?”
“We have some paperwork to sort out—insurance policies, that sort of thing. And we should talk about the buyout on the condo.”
“Today’s not a good day,” Liz said abruptly. “In fact, just about any day is a bad day. Have your attorney call my attorney. I really don’t want to see you.”
“Liz, honey—”
“Don’t. Don’t pretend there’s anything between us. You made it very clear there wasn’t.”
“I know the timing was terrible—”
“You’re right, it was,” Liz said. “It was about six years too late. And I’m about to be late for breakfast. Goodbye.”
Liz disconnected the call and closed her eyes. She was shaking. Damn Julia, or maybe, damn her for being so blind for so long. How had she not seen that they had become nothing more than shadows in one another’s lives? How had she ever imagined that they could raise a child together? She touched her abdomen. This child would change her life in ways she couldn’t begin to imagine. For the first time, she was thankful that Julia was gone. Her child would never have to bear the burden of holding together a relationship that wasn’t meant to be.
With another deep breath, she left the apartment and took the elevator down to the parking garage. Even though Reilly was only a few blocks away, Liz was ten minutes late arriving. Reilly was waiting outside, leaning against a lamppost on the corner half a block down from her house. In her tight blue jeans and faded red cotton shirt, she was easy to pick out among the surprisingly large number of people already out and about. Liz drew alongside her and powered down the passenger side window.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Do I still get breakfast?”
Reilly grinned and climbed into Liz’s Audi. “I’ll put it on account. I have a feeling I’ll be late a lot more than you.”
Liz pulled away, knowing she was blushing at the inference that they would be seeing one another again. Seeing one another often enough to be late on a regular basis. Now that Reilly was closer, she noticed the shadows beneath her eyes, but didn’t know how to politely inquire about them. She didn’t really know very much about her at all. No facts, that is, beyond her occupation.
Although she did know she was competitive, and, thinking about the awful episode of morning sickness, kind and caring as well. Remembering Reilly’s response to her confession about her break-up with Julia, she could add intuitive to the list. And she knew she had lost someone she loved. Come to think of it, she knew a lot about Reilly Danvers, and she liked it all. And that was without factoring in smart, funny and stop-your-heart gorgeous.
“Where are you from?” Liz asked abruptly, wanting to get her mind off that track immediately.
“A little town in upstate New York.”
Reilly mentioned a town Liz had never heard of.
“Brothers? Sisters?”
“One brother. He still lives there. You—besides your stepbrother?”
“A sister. She’s an Army major. She’s flying helicopters in Iraq right now.”
“Jesus,” Reilly said. “That’s scary.”
“It’s terrifying.” Liz gripped the steering wheel harder. “It took me a long time to get serious about my career. I couldn’t wait to go off to college and have a good time. Andi’s a year younger and all she could talk about from the time she was twelve was West Point. This is her second tour.”
“I understand those Army pilots are really good.”
Reilly touched Liz’s leg softly for a second. The brief contact was innocent and yet so comforting, Liz’s throat tightened.
“Yeah. I know. She’s the best.”
; “You’re pretty close, huh?”
Liz nodded. They emailed almost every day, if Andi wasn’t on a mission. Andi had been quick to tell her she’d never thought Julia deserved her and that Liz was better off without her. In the next breath, she’d made Liz promise to send ultrasound images so she could have a picture of her niece or nephew to put by her bunk. Liz blinked away tears. Oh God, she couldn’t lose it now. Not while she was driving. Not in front of Reilly.
“Do you want me to drive?” Reilly asked softly.
“You know,” Liz said, pulling over to the curb, “I just need a second. It’s been kind of a lousy morning.” She skimmed both hands over her cheeks, happy that she hadn’t actually shed any tears. She laughed shakily. “I swear to you, I’m not usually like this.”
“You don’t have to explain,” Reilly said.
“Julia, my ex, called as I was walking out the door. I was already angry at her, and then thinking about Andi over there…emotional overload.” Liz blew out a breath and shifted sideways in the seat to face Reilly. “I know you don’t know me at all, but there’s a really good reason—”
“Liz,” Reilly interrupted, her expression unexpectedly tender. “There’s nothing strange about being upset that your sister is in the middle of a goddamn war. Or that your goddamn ex called first thing Saturday morning and pissed you off. Sounds like a really good reason to cry…or swear.”
Liz grinned and the moment to get into heavier topics passed. She really didn’t want to talk about Julia, and talking about being pregnant meant talking about the whole sorry mess. For just a little while, she wanted to be free. Free of Julia. Free of her mistakes. Free of her heartache. And Reilly was so damn good at making her feel good. Was it so wrong to want to feel that way for a few hours? “You’re right. Are you hungry?”
“Starved. I ran a few miles this morning, and all I had was half a stale Power Bar when I got back.”
“Couldn’t sleep?” Liz pulled back into traffic.
“Restless night,” Reilly said offhandedly.
“I know it wasn’t the beer, you only had two or three.”
“Two more than I should have, considering I didn’t have dinner.”
“No wonder you’re starving.” Liz turned into the parking lot in front of the diner. The shiny aluminum-sided structure resembled the wingless fuselage of an airplane, right down to the rows of oval windows. “Are you one of those workaholic types who forgets to take care of herself?”
Reilly grinned as she got out of the car and walked with Liz to the revolving front doors. “Not really. But I won’t complain about some TLC, if you’re offering.”
Liz let the comment pass because she wasn’t sure if it was meant to be as flirtatious as it sounded. Inside, the diner was crowded and noisy, but they managed to snag one of the last window booths. Unfortunately, the air conditioning was far from efficient and the heat, combined with the smell of last night’s fried food layered on top of breakfast, made Liz queasy. Nevertheless, she was determined not to give in.
“Coffee and the breakfast special,” Reilly said to the waitress who appeared immediately by their side.
“Ice water, please, and scrambled eggs and toast,” Liz added. She leaned back in the booth and thought of a dozen casual, meaningless things to say. But nothing about being with Reilly ever seemed to be casual. “So why aren’t you sleeping?”
Reilly stared at her, obviously considering whether to answer or not.
“You can tell me it’s none of my business,” Liz said quietly. “Because it isn’t.”
“Ghosts.”
Liz searched Reilly’s eyes, trying to find a clue as to what her next question should be. She read people for a living. She was good at it. But this time, it was so much more important not to make the wrong decision.
“What was her name?”
“Annie.”
“Irish?”
Reilly nodded. “Not a redhead like you, though. Her hair was lighter and her eyes were darker.”
“You said it was quite awhile ago.” Liz noted the quick comparison. Had Reilly been thinking about Liz and comparing her to Annie? The thought made her wonder what the result had been.
“Almost five years.”
Liz listened to the timbre of her voice, judging her pain. She heard sorrow, but not raw grief. She also didn’t hear a warning to back off, but she didn’t want to open old wounds. “Was it an accident of some kind?”
Reilly waited while the waitress set down their drinks, and then clasped her coffee cup in both hands. “No. She had a stroke. An aneurysm.”
“God, that’s awful.”
“Yes.” Reilly shuddered, as if shaking off a memory, then smiled wryly. “I’m sorry. Lousy breakfast topic. Thanks for asking.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Not bleeding anymore, Liz thought, but not completely healed either.
“Annie was about your age when she died. She was nine years older than me.”
“Which makes you…” Liz calculated. “Thirty-one now.”
“Right.”
“That’s almost the same difference as between Candace and me.”
“You two were lovers?” Reilly asked between bites of her breakfast. “Or…are you still?”
“God no,” Liz said quickly. “I mean, we were, but we’re not anymore.”
“I wondered. She seems very…protective.”
“Candace and Brenda and I have been best friends for years. They’re as close to me as my sister. Maybe closer, because I adore Andi, but I don’t understand her.”
“Is your sister a lesbian?”
“She is. Single, always has been, pretty much.”
“Occupational, probably.”
“That’s partly it.” Liz nibbled on her toast and pushed her half-eaten eggs aside. Her stomach had settled but her appetite had fled. “My parents split when we were fourteen, and we did the half a year back and forth thing until we finished high school. I think it turned her off to relationships.”
“But not you,” Reilly stated, leaning back from her empty plate.
“I keep trying.” Liz laughed ruefully. “Haven’t done very well so far.”
“Like I said before,” Reilly murmured, “Julia’s an idiot.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Liz smiled. “You’re very good for my ego.”
“Well, you’re good for my game. Only seems fair.”
“When’s the next one?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
The air was suddenly filled with questions, and Liz wished desperately for the answers. Had she heard an invitation? Had Reilly really been flirting with her or was the sadness that surfaced when she grew quiet a sign that her heart still belonged elsewhere? Even more importantly, am I only pretending my interest in Reilly is casual? Am I lying to myself the way I lied about what was happening with Julia all these months?
“Want a cheering squad?” Liz asked before the voices in her head could dissuade her.
“Yes,” Reilly said immediately.
“Good.” Liz welcomed the swell of anticipation, something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing for far too long, not caring that all the questions still remained.
Chapter Nine
Bren settled in front of her computer with a cup of coffee and a raspberry cheese Danish and logged onto Melanie Richards’ author blog for her Saturday morning chat. She sipped and nibbled and scanned the questions from her readers. Smiling, she answered a few of the easy ones.
What do you wear while you’re writing?
It depends on what I’m writing. If I’m outlining or editing, I usually choose something old and comfortable, because that’s tough work! But if Jae is going out and there’s the possibility she’ll have an exciting encounter, I might dress up in something slinky.
Why can’t you write faster?
Then I wouldn’t have time to talk to you, and I’d miss all this fun!
Bren enjoyed chatting with her readers online. While the interactions struck
her as personal, sometimes almost intimate, she was comfortably shielded by the anonymity not only of her pseudonym, but by the boundaries of virtual reality. When she was writing, when she was chatting with readers about her characters or plots or future plans, she was completely Melanie Richards. She loved being able to release that other part of herself—the bold, daring, sexually adventurous part. As she read the next question, Bren slowly set down her coffee cup. Everything on the screen except that single question faded.
When is Jae going to admit that she’s waiting for a mistress to show her what she really needs?
What astounded Bren about the question was that she’d barely known herself what was happening with Jae until the last few months. But someone had understood, someone had read between the lines. Bren wondered what she had revealed in the snippets of story she’d recently posted as teasers. What had this reader sensed about her character that she had only just realized? Had she unwittingly exposed part of herself without realizing it, too? She typed, then deleted, then typed a vague response. She read it, knew it was a cop-out, and deleted it. The blinking cursor mocked her. Her own inner voice taunted her. Are you ready to commit? Are you ready to admit where Jae is going, where you want to take her? Where you want to be?
Someone had guessed her secret, and her discomfort was matched only by her excitement. Before she could think about it too much, she typed.
Jae is waiting for the only woman she can trust enough to tell her secrets to. Maybe she’ll find her on the very next page.
*
Reilly relaxed as Liz took her Audi through the tight, twisting turns of Lincoln Drive. She often worked weekends because work was a welcome respite from too many hours with nothing to do but think. This weekend, though, she was glad she was free.
She enjoyed the sensation of someone else being in control for a while. In the operating room, even in the dojang, she was always in charge. Responsible for others. It was nice not to have to do anything for a few minutes, and although they didn’t talk as Liz focused on the road, the silence was comfortable. The narrow road hugged Wissahickon Creek as it meandered northwest from Center City, and the air grew noticeably cooler and clearer as they traveled deeper into the huge stretch of parkland. At the speed Liz was going, they’d reach Reilly’s car in another few minutes. Reilly didn’t really want to get there. Thinking about the long day stretching before her, and the even longer night, and then almost another whole day before the late afternoon game Sunday, she felt a pang of loneliness. “What are you doing the rest of the day?” Reilly asked.