by Nell Stark
Still-dark eyes flickered briefly over her face. “So you did want me to kiss you? To touch you?”
Her grin was almost predatory, and Quinn didn’t like it. What just happened? Why did you change just now? Struggling to explain herself, she ran one hand through her slightly tangled hair. “Yes…well, I mean, no, but it’s more that I don’t want...I mean, I’ve never, with…” She sighed in frustration and forced herself to meet Corrie’s now curious gaze. “Well, with anyone, actually.”
“How ’bout I try to convince you to pick me?” Corrie took a step closer.
Quinn blushed, but she held out one hand as though to ward Corrie off. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say, here.”
Corrie stopped moving forward, but her eyes roamed up and down Quinn’s body in a way that made Quinn’s face feel even hotter. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can be hard to get. I like that once in a while.”
The resulting silence was awkward, as Quinn realized that Corrie wasn’t actually getting the point at all. “I don’t think I could, except with someone I loved,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet but sure. “I like you a lot, but I just…I don’t know you that well.”
“Ah,” said Corrie, shaking her head. “It’s on principle. Well, you’re missing out.”
“Maybe you’re missing out.”
Corrie took a step back, as though Quinn had pushed her. The cocky smile faded. Like closing the shutter over a window. “Oh. I…it’s my turn to be sorry,” Quinn said miserably, though she had no idea why.
“What?” Corrie asked, clearly distracted. She moved a few feet away to claim her own section of railing and lean heavily against it. “No, it’s not. It’s just bad memories.”
Quinn watched her stare out into the dark, clearly in pain. She thought back to their conversation over cards. “Of that woman,” she said intuitively.
Corrie didn’t answer for a while. Finally, she turned toward Quinn and sighed. “You’re right, you know. It is better with someone you love.”
You look so tired all of a sudden, Quinn thought. She felt a swift stab of guilt. “But?”
Corrie laughed sardonically and nudged at the railing with her toes. “But oh, all the angst when they don’t return the favor.” And that’s not even the half of it.
She turned back to her silent contemplation of the night as Quinn pondered this newest piece of the puzzle. Maybe that’s why she only likes casual encounters. She watched Corrie’s hunched figure surreptitiously, wanting so much to say something that would make her feel better, but knowing that at this point, she could only offer platitudes.
Finally, she pushed herself away from the railing and moved close enough to cautiously put her hand on Corrie’s shoulder. Just as it had been earlier in the day, her skin was hot to the touch. She struggled with the memory of how Corrie’s lips had burned against her own before finally managing to tamp down the unfamiliar wanting and look her in the eyes. Before Corrie could stop her or she could stop herself, Quinn pulled her into a gentle hug. She felt Corrie stiffen in surprise, but then her body relaxed. Quinn couldn’t help but think just how good and soft and warm she felt.
“I’m going home now,” she said, fighting the urge to rub her cheek against the side of Corrie’s neck. “Thank you for dinner.”
In another moment, she had pulled away. Corrie watched as Quinn stopped to pet Frog before walking quickly down the steps of the deck and disappearing around the side of the house. She sighed heavily, rested her elbows against the railing, and cradled her head in her hands. I could use more hugs like that. Then again, all Quinn had done—besides rejecting her—was to show her just how far she hadn’t come. Desire still suffused her body, but its pull was easily overshadowed by the sharp, familiar pain between her breasts. Damn you, Denise. Damn you for worming your way in there. The sore spot ached with every breath, and she finally freed one hand to press against it. Struggling to regain some measure of equilibrium, she closed her eyes and let the cool night breeze dry the two stubborn tears that refused to stay where they belonged.
Heeling
Corrie sighed quietly as she stepped back under the hot spray of the shower to rinse the conditioner from her hair. She braced one hand against the tiles and let the water sluice over her body, wishing for it to wash away the tension that plagued her just as it cleansed her skin of sand and ocean salt and sweat. Instead, she felt acutely the beat of the spray against her nipples, the trickle of the water as tiny rivulets converged at the juncture of her thighs. Her body was hot and full and throbbing and had been all day.
I could try turning the knob to cold, she thought briefly. But it wouldn’t make a difference. Not really. The dull ache between her thighs would gradually become pain, and her skin would only grow more and more sensitive until she finally gave in to the demands of her body. I hate this, sometimes. It frightens me.
She heard the water shut off in the next stall over, followed by the sounds of Jen toweling dry. Raising her face toward the spigot, she let the spray pound against her cheeks, as though it could knock some sense into her overheated brain.
“So,” said Jen over the noise of the water. “Are you going to tell me what’s been bugging you today, or not?”
Corrie sighed again and straightened up in the shower. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, let’s see. You snapped at every single person who came into your office, for one thing. And you didn’t give any ratings, for another. You stayed holed up inside while everyone went out for lunch, Jeez, did you even eat anything today?”
Corrie reluctantly shut off the water, wrapping a towel around herself as she stepped out of the stall. “Wrong side of the bed.”
Jen, who stood just a few feet away, was in the act of pulling on a blue, light cotton shirt. “Mmm, I don’t buy it,” she said, grabbing for her hairbrush. “Try again.”
Corrie dried off briskly, then reached for the pair of tight-fitting khaki shorts that she had left on one of the benches. She pulled them on and, deciding to forego a bra as well as underwear, immediately grabbed her scooped-neck black top. A size too small, it clung to her breasts and stomach like a second skin.
“I’m just having a bad day,” she said as she bent down to adjust the bracelet around her right ankle. Everything would be fine if Quinn hadn’t made me think of her.
Jen looked her up and down and cocked her head. “Which is why you’re going on the prowl tonight, then?”
Corrie laughed sharply. “On the prowl, huh? What makes you think that?”
“Even the gay guys and straight girls will look twice at you in that shirt.”
Corrie raised her head and leered. “That include you?”
Jen rolled her eyes. “You wish.” She softened the words with a light punch to Corrie’s right shoulder.
“People are more flexible than you think,” said Corrie, slipping on a pair of sandals. Except for Quinn, apparently. Her rejection still rankled. Corrie wasn’t exactly used to being turned down. “Should I leave it wet, or dry it?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jen’s voice sounded almost resigned. “You’ll have whoever you want, regardless.”
“Time will tell.” Corrie started for the door, and together they made their way up the stairs to the crowded hall.
“There’s the gang,” Jen shouted over the thumping music, pointing toward the far end of the bar.
Corrie nodded and pushed her way across the room, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Somehow the crowd was simultaneously exhausting and invigorating tonight. I don’t want to talk to anyone, she realized suddenly, but I don’t want to be alone, either.
As they came up alongside Drew and a few other instructors, Corrie nodded to her friends and leaned back against the warm, lacquered edge of the bar. The sunset, visible through the large windows, was spectacular, and she briefly thought back to that first social, when she had found Quinn outside similarly contemplating the nightfall.
But thinking of Quinn suddenly ha
d her thinking about Denise again, about how it had felt to love someone instead of just fucking her, to wake up next to someone and want to hold her. Struggling to pull herself together, she turned away from her friends and caught sight of Will chatting with one of his frat buddies across the room. Mercifully, the familiar, white-hot anger surged back to the fore, purging her of the sadness, the loneliness, the grief. You took that from me. Took her. She was weak, and you played her. And then she remembered how affectionate they’d been at their engagement party and Denise’s later protest that she did in fact love him.
Hell, she thought, still disgusted with herself even after all this time. They both played me.
Turning back, she caught the bartender’s eye and gave a little wave. Beside her, Jen tucked Drew’s shirt tag beneath his collar.
“You’re a mess, Harris.”
“Huh?” Drew asked, pulling away and turning to face her. “What was that for?”
“Your tag was out. Geek.”
Drew straightened his shoulders and pretended to glare. “Who made you the Goddess of Fashion? Jenny.”
“How many times?” Jen’s voice was shrill. “How ma—”
“Children!” Corrie said sharply, as the bartender finally made his way toward them. “Enough. Who’s doing tequila with me?”
“Shots?” Drew asked, turning to face her. Corrie looked at him—really looked—for the first time that night. Strong, tan arms stood out darkly against his white T-shirt, and Corrie was momentarily entranced by the slight flicker of his abs just above the waistband of his faded jeans. When she realized that she was rather blatantly giving him the once over, she quickly met his eyes.
“Shots,” she said. “Of course.” She ran one hand through her still-damp hair, shaking the long strands back from her face. Are you the one, tonight? She knew Drew wanted her. Better yet, she knew she could make him need her. Unlike certain other people.
“I’m in,” he said, but Corrie couldn’t tell which question he was answering. She looked away, toward the others.
“Who else?”
As they waited for the round of shots to arrive, Corrie leaned back against the bar again and closed her eyes. She could feel the rhythm of the music seeping through the soles of her sandals, the skin of her feet, into her blood. The air of the room was hot as she breathed it in—hot like the aching beat as it settled between her thighs. I haven’t even touched a drink and I’m already drunk. She gave herself up to it, surrendering to the throb of desire, letting the energy enter her, fill her, consume her until it was her, and she was it. Sensuality incarnate, as inexorable as the restless ocean tide.
The sensation of skin against her forearm jolted her out of the reverie. “The drinks are here,” said Drew. He frowned down at her. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said while everyone around her grabbed a brimming shot glass and a slice of lime. As someone passed Drew the saltshaker, Corrie nudged him lightly. “Let me.”
When he frowned again, she rolled her eyes. “Give me your wrist, silly.”
“Uh,” Drew managed to say. “All right.”
From Drew’s other side, Jen raised her eyebrows as Corrie wrapped her fingers around his left arm, turned it over to expose the soft underside, and ran her tongue over the translucent skin. When she pulled away, Drew just stood there, frozen, before his Adam’s apple bobbed once in a hard swallow.
“Salt,” she said, nudging him again. “Go on. And then it’s my turn.” She held up her own wrist with a wink.
Checkmate, Jen thought, steadfastly ignoring the abrupt surge of disappointment that bottomed out in the pit of her stomach. That was fast.
“What are we drinking to?” she forced herself to ask cheerfully as Drew finally finished his oral exploration of Corrie’s wrist.
“The wind.” Corrie’s smile was triumphant, yet fierce. “Bottoms up.” She delicately swiped the salt, downed the shot smoothly, turned it upside down on the bar, and closed her lips around the slice of lime. Jen watched Drew’s eyes go hazy as Corrie sighed in pleasure and sucked hard on the fruit. She bit back a sigh of her own.
“The wind, then,” she echoed, as the rest of the group mirrored Corrie’s actions. “C’mon,” she said afterward, cavalierly throwing her arms around two other instructors. “Let’s dance.”
Corrie didn’t see the others make their way toward the dance floor; she was reveling in the slow burn of the alcohol as it rushed down her throat and into her empty stomach. Beautiful. Drew waited patiently beside her. My move, and he knows it. The power was even more intoxicating than the tequila. God, yes, this is what I needed.
“I’d like to hang out here for a little while,” she said softly, hooking her right index finger under the waistband of his jeans and tugging. “And then, I want you to come home with me.”
“My place is closer.”
She cocked her head and looked at him—saw desire in the tense planes of his face, in the dark pupils that nearly drowned out the brown of his eyes. “Fine, then.”
She stepped closer, settling her left hand on his waist. He curled one arm around her so that his palm rested in the small of her back. His skin burned against hers through the thin material of her shirt.
“Corrie,” he said, suddenly. His face was strange, almost sad. “I just—” But then he grinned and shook his head. “Ah hell, nothing. You feel good.”
Her eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Not nearly as good as you’re going to feel,” she said, passing him one of the beers. Her callused fingertips brushed deliberately over his knuckles. He swallowed hard again.
*
Quinn closed the bulky textbook and set it on her nightstand with a sigh. If I can’t get to sleep now... She yawned, stretched, fluffed her pillow, and finally turned out the light. It was past eleven. She’d been meaning to go to bed over an hour ago, but rest had eluded her. Fortunately, there was always more studying to be done.
She turned onto her side beneath the crisp white sheets and resolutely closed her eyes. Go to sleep, she told her exhausted brain. But, as had happened last night and all day today, as soon as there were no distractions, her body began to remember just how nice it had felt to be pressed between the soft yet firm weight of Corrie and the rigid solidity of the railing. Caught. Trapped. No, not trapped. That means you didn’t want to be there.
She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes to stare into the dark, trying to dissect her feelings rationally. She had wanted to be there, all right—had wanted Corrie to continue kissing her, touching her. And yes, she’d even wanted more. A lot more.
That wasn’t to say that she’d never considered having sex before, but previously, the thought had always been abstract. Distant. Last night had been up close and personal and not at all rational. I wanted to give myself to her, and she wanted to take me.
Quinn exhaled loudly. No matter how much you wanted her, or she wanted you, you were only going to be another notch on her bedpost. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains over her open window, bringing with it the faint sound of laughter from the street. Was Corrie still at the social? Probably not. Who did she go home with tonight?
Quinn shook her head, feeling her hair twist against the fabric of the pillow. She took me by surprise. And it was nice that she wanted me. Had any of the few women she’d dated ever approached her with the same single-minded purpose and focus with which Corrie had kissed her? If they had, she couldn’t remember.
It was fun playing cards. Will we still be able to do that? She tried closing her eyes again, but now, instead of feeling the heat of Corrie’s lips against the skin of her neck, she was hearing the husky timbre of Corrie’s voice.
Quinn sat up suddenly and frowned into the shadows. Her eyes were open, and she was still hearing Corrie’s voice. At the sound of the front door opening, she completely froze. Oh my god. She came home with Drew.
Shoulders hunched, she waited tensely, hearing only the low buzz of their speech and perhaps a sound that was the opening and cl
osing of the refrigerator door. After a minute or two, Quinn began to relax. Maybe they’re just hanging out, having a drink or something. She lay back in bed and closed her eyes again. Yeah. That must be it.
But a few seconds later, she was startled into full alertness by a loud thump that sounded as though something had crashed into the wall just outside her door.
“You didn’t really want to finish that, did you?” Corrie’s voice could have been clearer only if she’d been speaking directly into Quinn’s ear. Her stomach plunged. Not just a drink after all.
“N-no,” Drew said hoarsely. “God, Corrie—”
Corrie hummed, low and deep. Quinn could still hear her. “Good to know.”
There was a long pause during which she started feeling hopeful that they had removed themselves to Drew’s room, but then she heard a choked groan, followed by the sound of giggling. Giggling? She giggles?
“Stop, Mars. Stop. I’m gonna come in my pants if you keep—”
“None of that, now,” Corrie said firmly. “You’re not going to come until you’re way deep inside me. Understand?”
Quinn’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she wasn’t sure that she could swallow if she tried. Even as her body responded to Corrie’s explicit demand, her brain was flooded with embarrassment.
“Fuck, you’re going to kill me.”
Corrie’s reply was terse. “Shirt. Off. Now.”
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut. Dimly, she realized that she was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the light sheet. What would it feel like? Corrie tugging at the hem of her shirt, pushing it up her torso, tickling lightly along her rib cage. Quinn felt herself shiver as she remembered the way Corrie’s fingers had brushed over her breasts. The exquisite friction of cotton against the tips, Corrie’s palms sliding against her shoulders as the shirt slid over her head.