by Radclyffe
“Quinn, I...” Eyes slightly unfocused, Honor took a step closer
The light danced along the sliver of gold that encircled her ring finger as she reached to touch Quinn’s face. She seemed unaware of it, but Quinn wasn’t.
“Honor,” Quinn breathed, stomach and chest tight as she ached for the offered caress. “I...should get...the shower.”
“Yes.” Honor’s tone was nearly mournful as she let her hand fall. She backed away, a hard knot of need in the pit of her stomach. “I’ll get those clothes.”
“Thanks.” Quinn feared that the next time she stood alone with Honor with nothing between them but desire, she wouldn’t be able to say no. Instinctively, she knew that Honor would regret it if anything happened between them, and that regret would at the very least erect a barrier between them. Worse, it might create a chasm that could never be breached. There was a connection between them, and Quinn hoped desperately that Honor felt it, too. But she would not risk losing everything to ease her longing now. “I should lock the bathroom door, I guess, in case Arly wakes up and wanders in. You can just leave the clothes on the hall table.”
“Of course.” Honor shook her head as if dazed. “Come get me when you’re dressed, then, and I’ll help you with the sling. My room is the one across the hall.”
“All right.”
“If you need anything...”
“Thanks,” Quinn said softly. “I’m okay for now.”
“Right,” Honor replied, working to sound casual as she let herself out of the bathroom. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
When Quinn had showered and dressed in the gray PMC sweatpants and soft blue cotton work shirt that she’d found folded on the small telephone table in the hall, she stepped quietly to Honor’s door. It was slightly ajar, and as she closed her fingers around the knob, a fist of anticipation curled deep in the pit of her stomach, causing her to hesitate. I’m not so sure the bedroom will be safe ground when even the bathroom wasn’t.
The door opened quietly, admitting a splinter of light that slashed across the bed, backlighting the figure in the doorway for an instant before darkness descended once again.
Lying alone in the night, feeling her heartbeat accelerate in anticipation, she searched the darkness for the soft sounds of movement, so ordinary and yet so exciting. The quiet thud of a shoe, the rasp of a zipper sliding open, the gentle sigh of breath as clothes fell from weary flesh. As she listened, her body awakened to the promise of a familiar touch—exciting still—and her legs twitched beneath the sheets. The slight pressure of a body easing onto the bed beside her brought blood rushing to her belly, and she grew hard with the insistent beat of desire. Welcoming dew anointed her thighs, and her nipples, not yet touched, rose in eager expectation.
“Did I wake you?” came the soft voice as a hand gentled over her cheek and down her neck.
Fingers drifted over her throat, traced her collarbones, and came to rest along the curve of her breast. A thumb flicked knowingly over her nipple, and she whimpered with the swift spear of pleasure that shot deep inside her.
“No, I...was...waiting.” She lifted her face to meet warm lips, reaching up with one arm to encircle the strong back. Her breasts brushed against breasts; her nipples glided over muscle and satin-smooth skin and tightened to the point of pain.
A gasp of pleasure, a moan of urgency. She pushed the sheets away, baring her body, drawing her lover down upon her. Opening her legs, she lifted her hips, calling her lover to her. When a taut thigh pressed against the center of her arousal, she arched her back as a wild cry flew from her throat. The moan drifted off on the tide of her desire, a mixture of ecstasy and mourning.
Desperate lest she be left alone on the sharp pinnacle of her need, she claimed her lover’s lips, her tongue demanding entrance even as she drowned in the flood of their passion. Her clitoris throbbed in time to the rhythm of the thigh thrusting between hers; the muscles in her stomach jumped as pleasure slashed through her. Gasping, shivering on the edge of orgasm, she dug her fingers into the tight, straining back above her, bowing upward until every inch of her flesh met fevered flesh.
She felt teeth on her neck, hot urgent breath thirsting against her own damp skin, and the slick sheen of arousal varnishing her thigh.
“Come with me,” she panted, the spiral of release breaking deep within.
The answer was a helpless shudder and a low, tortured groan.
Hearing her lover’s need, feeling the consuming desire, drove her over, and she fell into orgasm with a frantic cry. Even as the scream tore from her body and every nerve burned, she felt her lover tremble in her embrace, and, together, they surrendered to the power of their love. As she came, breathless and exultant, she gloried in the wonder of their union.
When Honor opened her eyes, the sun was shining, the room was Sunday-morning-in-summer warm, and she was alone. She lay still for long moments, watching wisps of clouds float slowly by her window in a sky too blue to be real. But the beauty outside was real, achingly real, just as the still-lingering ripples of pleasure deep in her belly were real.
Sighing, she turned onto her back and closed her eyes. She could feel the dampness between her thighs and the faint echo of the pulse that had beat hard there as she had orgasmed. She had not awakened at the peak of climax but had lingered in the aftermath of passion, luxuriating in the comfort of a lover’s embrace.
Explanations abounded, from the scientific to the psychological. None of them mattered to her, because she knew the simple truth. She had gone to sleep wanting a woman. She had closed her eyes with the image of a woman ablaze in her mind. While she had slept, a woman had come to her, had answered her need, and had pleasured her. And Honor could not deny that she had welcomed it, reveled in it, rejoiced in the joining.
She covered her left hand with her right and gently turned her wedding band. There had never been anyone other than Terry, but it had not been Terry who had come to her in the night. It had not been her lover whom she had longed for as she lay down alone. It had not been her lover whom she had envisioned behind restless lids as her body burned. It had not been her lover who had touched her in passion and incited her to lose herself in desire.
She was saddened by that. Saddened that a time had come in her life when it had not been the only woman she had ever loved who had moved her and claimed her so completely.
It was only a dream.
But she knew it was much more than that, and in the part of her heart that lived on past sorrow and loss, she felt something she had not felt for many years. She sensed the whisper of joy.
Chapter Fourteen
It was not yet six when Honor made her way to the kitchen to start coffee. She’d need to leave for work in an hour, and Phyllis would be over in half an hour to be on hand when Arly awakened. Ten minutes later, she stood at the kitchen window with a mug of steaming Hawaiian Blue Voodoo and looked out into the backyard. Quinn lounged in a lawn chair beneath a large willow tree, head back and eyes closed. Just seeing her gave Honor a jolt. A most pleasant jolt. After a moment’s hesitation, she filled another mug and slipped quietly outside.
“Where’s your sling?” Honor asked as she sat down in the chair next to Quinn.
Quinn rolled her head to the side, opened her eyes, and grinned sheepishly. “I lost it.”
“Uh-huh. That’s convenient.” Despite herself, Honor smiled as she extended the coffee. “Can I tempt you with this?”
“Tempt me? You can have my soul for that, even if it’s only half as good as it smells.” She lifted the coffee and drank, then closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. “God, this is fabulous.”
“Mmm.” Honor liked having been the cause of Quinn’s undisguised satisfaction. A lot. Probably too much. But at that moment, relaxing in the warm, still, peaceful morning, she didn’t care.
Smiling, Quinn said lazily, “So what do I owe you?”
“Well, your soul is probably safe for the time being.” Pretending to consider, H
onor finally grinned. “I’ll have to get back to you when I’ve thought of something suitable.”
“Okay,” Quinn replied slowly. “You just let me know what, when, and where.”
The husky timbre in Quinn’s voice was not lost on Honor, although she refused to acknowledge the pleasant warmth that suffused her in response. Instead, she sipped her coffee and studied Quinn’s face. There were faint shadows beneath her eyes but her gaze was clear, pain free. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Some.” Actually, she’d tossed and turned and found it no easier to sleep after the shower than before. All she could think about was standing with Honor in the half-light of the hushed hallway and praying that Honor would touch her. The seething arousal that had accompanied the memories hadn’t made for a restful night. “I woke up early, and when I looked outside, I had to come down here. You don’t see mornings like this in Manhattan.”
“No, probably not.” Honor set her cup down and stretched out her legs, noting that Quinn held her left arm motionless across her stomach. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Better. Stiff—about what I expected.”
“You didn’t ask me to help you with the immobilizer last night.”
“I started to,” Quinn said in self-defense, feeling partly embarrassed and partly guilty. “But when I peeked into your room, you looked like you were already asleep.”
Yes, and dreaming of you. Honor blushed. “Sorry. You could have awakened me.”
Quinn lifted her good shoulder. “I could have. But I didn’t think it was necessary.”
“Oh, really?”
“Well, I am a doctor, too, you know.”
“And you’re also a jock, and I know how jocks deal with injuries. Ignore them and pretend they never happened.”
Quinn laughed. “Guilty.” Contemplatively, she sipped her coffee. “How about you? You strike me as being the jock type yourself.”
“Not so much, really. I was usually too busy with school. Terry was the jock.”
As soon as the words were spoken, Honor stiffened. She didn’t usually talk about Terry, at least not with anyone other than Linda and Robin or Phyllis. She couldn’t imagine why she had mentioned her to Quinn, of all people.
“Was soccer her game, too?” Quinn asked casually, aware of Honor’s sudden discomfort. But it seemed important to keep going. Honor had said they were friends, and if that’s truly what they were to be, even if that was all they were to be, Terry could not be a secret.
“Soccer, softball, football—you name it, she played it.” Honor’s voice faltered, then she smiled, a tiny fond lift of her lips. “She was always getting banged up.”
“Ah, now I understand Phyllis’s comment about tough girls and injuries.”
Honor studied Quinn, thinking that she ought to be surprised that Quinn even knew about Terry, but she wasn’t. Quinn was one of the most instinctively insightful people she had ever met. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
“I pay attention,” Quinn said quietly. Especially when it matters so much.
“I know.”
Quinn wanted to ask more, wanted to know about the woman Honor had loved, had married, had borne a child with. Not out of a sense of competition—at least, if she was honest, not so much because of that—but out of a deep desire to know Honor. But she also intuited that this was a subject that could not be rushed, and she prudently sought less volatile ground. “You’re up pretty early for a Sunday.”
“I’m working the day shift.”
“Oh, yes.” Quinn’s eyes darkened, jolted abruptly from the companionable conversation back to the reality of their true relationship. Honor was her boss, and about to make a decision that would affect the rest of Quinn’s life. Her voice was tinged with faint frustration and a hint of temper. “I was scheduled to work, too. But then, you know that.”
Hearing the anger, Honor looked away, then forced herself to meet Quinn’s eyes. “Since it’s Sunday, I won’t be able to reach anyone today about the...situation.”
“I didn’t expect anything to be resolved until next week,” Quinn replied quietly, forcing calm when she felt anything but. Still, she didn’t want to fight with Honor, and in her rational mind, she appreciated Honor’s sense of responsibility.
“First thing Monday morning, I’ll talk to the chief of medicine and the attorneys.”
“Thanks. If you need my cardiologist’s contact info, I can give you that.” She hesitated. “I’ll sign a release for you to get copies of my records, too, if you want.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for offering.” Appreciating what an invasion of privacy this was for Quinn, and grateful for her cooperation, Honor sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry to put you through this, Quinn. But I’m the head of the department, and I have to be certain that all contingencies have been considered and that we’re free from liability.”
A muscle bunched along the edge of Quinn’s jaw, but she merely nodded.
Speaking almost to herself, Honor muttered, “This could have been avoided if Mary Ann hadn’t hired you before I could interview you.”
“What do you mean?” Quinn leaned forward, her expression piercingly intent.
Honor regarded Quinn steadily. “What would you have said if I had asked you why you weren’t planning on practicing surgery? And I would have asked.”
“I would have said that I had a medical condition that presently prevented me from doing that.”
“And when I asked for details?”
“I would have told you,” Quinn said immediately.
“Precisely.” Honor ran a hand through her hair. “Mary Ann Jones is an excellent administrator, and I’m very happy to have her as my chief when it’s time to negotiate for salary lines and to keep surgery from swallowing up my department.” At Quinn’s raised eyebrow, Honor laughed. “It’s true and you know it. You’re all a bunch of territorial bandits.”
“She didn’t ask me, Honor.” She blew out a breath. “I needed this job. I wanted this job. I wasn’t about to make an announcement that would endanger my chance of getting it.”
“I can understand that,” Honor replied. And she could. “But I’m responsible for the ER, Quinn, and at some point, I should have been involved in the decision.”
“I guess I can see why you weren’t real happy to see me show up.” Quinn reached over and touched her shoulder. “Sorry.”
Honor flushed, surprised by the contact, because Quinn rarely initiated it, and embarrassed by her behavior when Quinn first arrived. “I was irritated...actually, I was mightily pissed off...that Mary Ann had gone over my head in hiring you. That wasn’t your fault. I apologize for the cool welcome—you didn’t deserve that.”
“No matter.” Quinn turned the empty mug on her knee, staring out over the expanse of green lawn enclosed by a wood privacy fence. Honor’s yard was smaller than Linda and Robin’s, but still ample and more private. At the moment, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Softly, she asked the one thing that really did matter. “Would you have hired me?”
For a long moment, Honor didn’t answer. She’d heard the uncertain note in Quinn’s voice and seen the faint tremor in the fingers that cradled the ceramic mug. For the first time, she truly appreciated how difficult it must be for Quinn—a woman who was used to being the best, who had achieved far more than most people her age or even older—to suddenly find herself in a position where her value and worth were brought into question. “It would have been hard to turn you down.”
Quinn turned her head in Honor’s direction and smiled wryly. “Spoken like a true administrator.”
“No, I’m completely serious.” Honor reached out and rested her hand on Quinn’s arm. “You’re quite a catch, Quinn Maguire.”
It was Quinn’s turn to blush. “Is that your professional assessment?”
“Partially.”
“And the other part?” Quinn found herself holding her breath as she watched the ri
ch color swirl in Honor’s eyes, heavy and drowningly deep.
“Personal...observation.” Honor’s voice was honey thick. “You’re sensitive, and kind, and tender. All good qualities in an...ER physician.”
“And you base that on what?” Quinn was embarrassed, but pleased. “My stellar bedside manner?”
“No.” Honor’s fingers drifted down Quinn’s arm until they rested on the top of her hand. “On the way you treat my child.” And me.
Quinn leaned forward, drawn to the tenderness in Honor’s gaze. “She brings out my best side.”
“Just wait,” Honor murmured, watching Quinn’s lips move as she spoke, mesmerized by their moist promise, “until you see what she can bring out in you on one of her bad days.”
“I look forward to it.” Quinn found it hard to take a full breath because she feared that the tiniest movement would fracture their fragile connection. “She must be like you, that way. You bring out...things...in me, too.”
“Good things?” Honor’s voice had dropped so low that the words were barely a hum in her throat.
“Wonderful things.”
They were inches apart, their bodies nearly touching, their fingers lightly entwined. The air was still, warm, and somewhere a carillon sent its melody into the clear morning sky.
“Quinn.”
“Yes?”
Honor blinked, and her eyes focused as if awakening from a dream. “I have to go to work.”
“I know. And I should go home.” Quinn eased back in the chair, oddly content even as Honor moved away and their hands separated. They had broached a few of the things that stood between them. Her illness. Terry. It was a start.
“I want to put your immobilizer on you first,” Honor stated.
Quinn groaned.
“Yes.” Honor’s tone brooked no argument. “You need your meds, too, don’t you?”