by Nell Stark
She shrugged and looked down at herself, picturing her own small breasts and flat stomach under her burgundy polo shirt. “People like me, I guess. I eat like a horse, but it doesn’t really make a difference. For you...” Corrie spread her hands out in front of her, palms up. “Your body is naturally lush, Quinn. You could become a waif if you went crazy and ate nothing and ran ten miles a day, but I’m willing to bet that’d be unhealthy.”
She stopped talking then, and looked down at the raggedy edges of her jeans shorts. I said too much, she realized, when Quinn didn’t immediately respond. Dammit, I am really not cut out for this relationship business! She was on the verge of opening her mouth to try to clarify, when she felt the gentle pressure of Quinn’s fingers on her forearm. So warm.
“You didn’t just say those things to be nice, did you?” Quinn’s voice was soft.
Corrie scoffed and reached for her beer, trying not to reveal just how pleased she was that Quinn wasn’t upset with her, and that the scoop neck of Quinn’s top had dipped enough to reveal the slightest hint of pale cleavage. “All this time, and you still don’t trust me?”
“You have dunked me in the water on several occasions recently.”
“You dunked yourself!” Corrie’s voice rose in mock outrage. “Is it my fault that you and that damn trapeze have a love-hate relationship?”
“Yes,” Quinn said firmly, and poked Corrie just below her ribs. The resulting noise sounded like a frightened chicken’s squawk mixed with an injured cow’s bellow.
Corrie pulled away and her eyes went wide. “You are so dead,” she said breathlessly, as Quinn doubled over with laughter. “So very, very dead—”
In the next second, she had launched herself at Quinn and was doing her very best to tickle her senseless. Quinn let out a high-pitched shriek and desperately tried to squirm out of arm’s reach, only to find herself teetering on the edge of the futon, struggling to lean in even as her shoulders began to tilt toward the coffee table.
Corrie surged forward to catch her, one hand splayed between her shoulder blades, the other supporting her waist. Quinn watched Corrie’s left bicep contract against the sleeve of her shirt as she pulled her back from the edge. She could see the slight traces of blue veins beneath tan skin as the muscle jumped into relief, and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to let her mouth trace the contours of that muscle, to feel its strength pulsing beneath her lips.
Her blush was deep and unmistakable. Corrie did not let go. This time, the silence lasted forever.
“You know what?” Quinn said finally, uncertain of what she would say next, but knowing that she had to speak.
“What?” Corrie’s voice was just as soft. She raised her eyes to meet Quinn’s and froze at the desire she saw there. Dark pupils nearly swallowed the blue of her irises, and Corrie could feel the shiver that raced down Quinn’s spine.
Quinn leaned forward until Corrie could feel quick breaths pulsing against her face. Warm and wet, and oh God you shouldn’t do this stop right now don’t move don’t she doesn’t know what she’s in for she doesn’t deserve this don’t make the same mistake twice just don—
But when Quinn was unable to close that last, tiny gap, Corrie groaned softly and joined their lips in a long, slow kiss. Her mouth moved gently but possessively over Quinn’s, nibbling first on her upper lip, then her lower. When her tongue lightly flicked out to tease the corners of Quinn’s mouth, Quinn shivered again and sighed, and one of her hands slid into Corrie’s hair.
Corrie gently kneaded the curve of Quinn’s waist, slipping her fingers beneath the hem of her shirt to caress the warm skin of her back and stomach. She drew Quinn closer with her other hand, and Quinn’s lips finally parted beneath hers. Corrie’s tongue darted inside, stroking and soothing, briefly tangling with Quinn’s before retreating to lick at her lips once more. Their breathing became labored, drowning out the sounds of the crickets, but neither pulled away until Corrie’s wandering hand brushed against the soft fabric of Quinn’s bra.
I could have her here, right here, right on the couch and she’d let me—wouldn’t stop me now, but oh god, she doesn’t want that, not like this, she doesn’t and you have to stop, you have to stop, you have to, you fucking idiot, stop, stop, stop!
Her body cried out in protest as she gradually gentled her kisses, easing Quinn’s passion down from the remarkable high they had found together.
“That was nice,” Quinn said quietly against Corrie’s mouth. Later. Years later. Carefully disentangling her hand from Corrie’s hair, she followed the long trail of gold down to Corrie’s shoulders and briefly caressed the nape of her neck.
Corrie pulled back enough to nod, distrusting her voice. Her body still thundered with desire, and despite her good intentions, she knew that if she stayed this close to Quinn for much longer, her temporary resolve would weaken. And what’s wrong with that? Carpe diem. It’s been far, far too long. Does she look like she’s saying no to you?
She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. “Uh,” she said hoarsely. “I might, um, need some water.”
Quinn flushed and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Corrie’s left bicep, before finally letting her hand fall away. Corrie felt the loss of connection so acutely that she barely stifled a moan. Fuck, gotta either get off, or get out of here!
Pushing herself up off the couch, she stumbled into the kitchen on shaky legs. She grabbed a glass and rested it on the bottom of the sink as she filled it with water, so that she wouldn’t have to watch it tremble in her hand. She downed the water in several long gulps, took a few deep breaths, and stuck it back under the faucet. “D’you want anything, while I’m up?” she finally dared to ask. Wrong question, snarled her inner monologue.
And then the door swung open and Drew walked into the house. Corrie’s eyes went wide. Holy fucking hell, if he’d caught us—
“Mars!” he said, surprised. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“Yo, Harris.” Corrie somehow managed to keep her voice level even though she felt like screaming. Way too close for comfort. She really wasn’t prepared to go up against an overprotective Drew. “Quinn and I just finished watching some tapes of old races. Y’know, in prep for the regatta.”
“The regatta,” Drew said glumly, pulling back one of the chairs at the table and settling into it with a long sigh. “Yeah. Dammit, I wish like hell I could be with you out there.”
“Don’t worry, Drew,” said Quinn as she walked briskly into the kitchen, carrying their dinner plates. When she set them down in the sink, her arm brushed Corrie’s. “I promise to take care of her.”
“Don’t let her cut too close to the buoy!” he said, wagging a finger in admonition. “I’ve been watching you guys practice, and you’re consistently less than two boat-lengths from the mark.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Quinn’s gaze briefly settled on Corrie before returning to Drew. “I’m going to bed. See you both tomorrow.”
“Just a sec,” said Corrie, suddenly remembering Jen’s idea. Besides, for some reason, she wasn’t quite ready to let Quinn out of her sight. She cleared her throat.
“So, the instructors go on a weekend trip each summer to Block Island. We race there in a few keelboats, but once we’re there, it’s all very laid back and chill. We hang out for two days of total relaxation before coming home and getting back to work.” She raised her eyebrows. “The trip is next weekend, and...well, would you like to come along?”
Quinn blinked at her. “But I’m not an instructor.”
“You could be!” said Drew. “C’mon, Q, it’ll be a blast. Please?”
Quinn laughed. “You guys are hard to turn down.” She looked back and forth between them, clearly pleased that they both wanted her company. “I’ll go. It sounds fun. But now, I really need to sleep.”
“Cool,” Drew replied. “G’night, then.”
“Sleep well, Quinn.” Corrie watched as Quinn slowly walked down the hallway toward her bedroom, and then saw her
turn and smile, slowly and brilliantly, before disappearing around the corner. Her inner monologue was speechless.
“What are you smirking about?” Drew asked.
“Thinking about the race,” she said, before gulping down another glass of water. The insistent pressure between her thighs had abated slightly, but she was still profoundly uncomfortable. And kind of happy. That’s so weird.
“So, Mars.” Drew’s voice was a deep rumble. “You nervous about it? The regatta, I mean?”
Corrie glanced at him and shrugged. “Little bit, maybe.”
His eyebrows arched. “Want to...uh...relax a little?” His face was hopeful, but despite her physical discomfort, Corrie wasn’t even tempted. Also weird.
She moved forward a few steps to rest one hand on Drew’s right shoulder. “Thanks, but I really need to catch some Z’s.” She pulled away before he could cover her hand with his own and began to draw on the sandals she’d left at the door.
“Oh,” he said. “Sure. I get that.”
Corrie grinned apologetically at him and opened the door. “See you.”
“Yeah. And hey, it was really nice of you to invite Quinn for next weekend.”
Corrie shrugged. “It’ll be fun to have her along.” And then she stepped out into the night, turning her face toward the cool western breeze. I did the right thing, she thought proudly. I didn’t manipulate her. Of course, she’d done the right thing for the wrong reason, but still.
And now you’re going home with a hard-on the size of Texas, the annoying voice inside her brain pointed out. Congratu-fucking-lations.
Corrie shook her head vigorously and broke into a jog. She could be patient. Given what had happened earlier, Quinn might just come around after all. And if the intensity of her kisses was any indication, then she’d be worth the wait. For a little while, anyway.
*
As the door closed behind her, Quinn tiptoed into her bedroom from where she had been concealed, just beyond the bend in the hallway. For some reason, she couldn’t stop smiling. She turned down Drew! And oh, that kiss...
This is Corrie, her rational brain pointed out. Corrie’s made out with a lot of people.
But she’s the one who slowed down, some other, newly awakened voice replied. That’s not like her. That’s not what she did last time.
It doesn’t mean anything.
It might!
“Oh, shut up, both of you,” Quinn muttered as she slid between the crisp sheets of her bed. Her lips still tingled from Corrie’s soft yet insistent kisses, and she touched them with one tentative finger. They felt sensitive, somehow. Swollen and burning—the focal points of memory.
It’s nothing. Over and done with. Meaningless.
Oh no, no. No. It’s just the beginning. The beginning of everything.
“Shut up and let me enjoy this,” she said, rolling onto her side. Corrie had kissed her, and it had felt so very good. That was all that mattered. For now, anyway.
Seconds later, she fell into sleep.
Head to Wind
“Harris! If you don’t shut up, I’m going to beat you over the head with my oar!”
Quinn giggled as Drew pointedly ignored Jen’s threat and launched into his third consecutive rendition of “We Are the Champions.” Several boat lengths away off port, Brad’s crew were glumly rowing themselves toward New Harbor’s beach and glaring over at the winners every chance they got.
When Drew paused in his rowing to use the handle of his oar as a makeshift microphone, the uneven rocking of their inflatable dingy pushed Quinn against Corrie. Not that she minded. She didn’t pull away. In fact, she moved a little closer.
“Row the damn boat, Drew!” Jen shrieked from behind them.
“Nice work with the jib out there,” Corrie said softly, enjoying the sensation of Quinn’s breasts pressed against her. She looked really good today, dressed as she was in cutoff khaki shorts and a bright blue tank that showed off her toned arms and the lush curves of her waist and hips. The outfit was nothing special, per se, but it just made her look fresh, somehow. Appealing. Corrie hadn’t been able to stop watching her all afternoon as she worked on the boat.
Impulsively, she reached for Quinn’s hand and enclosed it in her own, then rested their hands back on the rubber gunwale. Quinn’s brief glance and shy smile ignited a warm, happy feeling in the bottom of Corrie’s stomach, until she remembered her motivation. Then she looked away, into the dark.
Behind them, Jen elbowed Drew in the side. “Ow!” He stopped rowing again and rubbed at his injured rib. “What the hell was that for, Jenny?”
Jen motioned with her head toward Corrie and Quinn. When Drew looked over, his jaw dropped several inches. “Holy sh—ow!”
“What is going on back there?” asked Corrie. She craned her neck to look back at them, but didn’t let go of Quinn’s hand.
“I’m beating him up,” Jen said quickly.
Corrie wanted to tell them to get a room but wisely decided to refrain. “Well, how about you wait until we’re safely on shore, huh?”
“You heard the skipper. Row, Harris.”
By some miracle, they arrived at the beach with no further mishaps. “Where are we going again?” Quinn asked. She was standing near Corrie, but they weren’t holding hands anymore. She wanted to reach out, but couldn’t quite muster up the courage.
“Captain Nick’s,” said Corrie as they began to trudge along the shoreline. “It’s one of the most popular bars on the island. Really fun.”
For some reason, the prospect of spending time in a loud, crowded, and probably smoky bar didn’t sound as unappealing as it would have a month ago. Face it, Quinn admitted to herself. You just want to be with her, wherever and whenever.
But as they approached the brightly lit building, Drew tugged at one strap of Corrie’s tank top and pulled her aside. “Mind if I talk to you for a minute?”
Corrie shrugged. “’Course not.” She gestured for the others to go in. “We’ll meet you in a sec.” She followed Drew over to the curb. “What’s up?”
He turned to face her. The streetlight just a few feet away backlit her entire body. It almost looked like she was glowing. Like an angel. Except that she really wasn’t, not at all. Drew took a deep breath.
“What are you doing with Quinn?”
Here it comes. Corrie decided to play it dumb. She wasn’t at all surprised that Drew was acting like a big brother. He’ll be harder to convince than Jen was. “What do you mean?”
Drew sighed and shifted weight to give his injured leg a break. “You know what I mean. What’s with the hand-holding thing?” His voice rose slightly. “I told you to let her be, dammit, and—”
“Whoa, whoa.” Corrie frowned at him. “You see us holding hands and take that to mean that we’re sleeping together?”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“Gee, Drew, I don’t know,” Corrie fired back sarcastically. “Maybe that we’ve gotten close over the past few weeks? Maybe that we’re taking things easy and seeing what happens?” She shook her head in frustration. Does he really think I’m not capable of going slowly? Of being considerate? Was that really how she came off to other people—as some sort of heartless femme fatale?
Drew held up one hand. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry I accused you like that. It’s just—” He frowned. “Look, Cor, this isn’t exactly normal for you. And I just really don’t want to see Quinn get hurt.”
“Neither do I.” And yet, the niggling voice reminded her, you’re going to hurt her when this is all over.
Drew exhaled slowly. “Fair enough. If you’re both happy, then...I guess I’m glad.”
“Thanks.” Corrie squeezed his shoulder. She was going to get hurt anyway. She was into me from the very beginning. The justification felt hollow, but it was better than nothing. “C’mon, let’s go join the party.”
They shouldered through the crowd around the door of Captain Nick’s, and Drew headed for their friends, who had manag
ed to claim one back corner of the room. Corrie veered toward the bar. After that, I really need a drink. She could only imagine what Drew would think of her once this whole charade was over, but then she flashed back to Will’s knowing smirk as he tossed the regatta entry form on her desk, and her resolve returned. It’s too late now, anyway.
As she waited to place her order, she caught sight of Quinn leaning against the wall, and holy shit, was some random guy hitting on her? Corrie leaned forward, pressing one hand to the smooth surface of the bar. She wasn’t, in fact, seeing things, despite the smoky air. A stocky, dark-haired man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, had sidled over to Quinn and was chatting her up. He wasn’t bad looking. In fact, he was sort of handsome, even though his nose was a bit too large for his face. But Quinn was smiling at him, dammit.
Hands off, asshole, Corrie thought fiercely, ducking out of the line to plow through the crowd. Not that he was touching her at the moment, but he would. Not on my watch.
“Quinn!” she said, deliberately pitching her voice much higher than normal. She grabbed hold of Quinn’s upper arm and began to firmly tug her away. “Oh my god, I lost my earring over there! Help me find it, please. It’s my favorite!”
“Um, sure.” Quinn risked a quick glance backward at the bewildered face of her would-be companion. “Excuse me!” If he said anything in reply, neither of them heard it as Corrie steered Quinn quickly toward the door.
“Your earring? Are your ears even pierced?”
Corrie shook her head and bared her teeth. “Nope.”
Quinn laughed and leaned against Corrie before they finally squeezed through the last of the crowd and emerged into the warm, clear night. “I hate smoke,” she said vehemently. “Ugh. This is much better.”
A salt-scented breeze blew off the ocean, ruffling her hair as she turned to breathe in deeply. Corrie heard her sigh of relief, watched her mouth curve up in a smile as she welcomed the fresh air. Sensual. Heat swirled in her gut, and she let her fingers trail down Quinn’s arm as she released her.