by Radclyffe
A few minutes later, Jett pulled into an empty spot along the curb a few doors down from her apartment building. She reversed the process, opening Tristan’s door, releasing her seat belt, and slipping one arm behind her back. “Let’s go, baby.”
Tristan turned her head on the seat and opened her eyes. “Did you go see Gail tonight?”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Jett said gently. “Right now, we’re going to bed.”
“Together?” Tristan frowned. “Nope. Bad idea.”
“All right.” Jett reached into the car, lifted Tristan’s legs out onto the sidewalk, and pulled Tristan out. “Up. That’s good.”
Tristan slung her arm around Jett’s shoulders. “Sorry about Darla.”
Jett shook her head and gripped Tristan’s waistband. “Come on, we’re right down here.”
“You mad?”
“No.”
Tristan sighed. “No, I guess not. We’re just fuck buddies.”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“Nothing to be mad about. Nothing,” Tristan echoed.
Jett unlocked the outside door, keeping her arm around Tristan’s waist, and then the inner door. Three flights of stairs awaited them. She tightened her hold on Tristan, and they made it all the way up with only one missed stair that almost landed them in a heap.
“This isn’t my house,” Tristan announced.
“No, it’s mine.” Jett opened the door, reached inside for the light switch, and tugged Tristan into the apartment.
Tristan looked around. “It’s very neat. Very clean.” She turned and studied Jett intently. “Like you.”
Jett laughed. “Come on. The bathroom and the bedroom are down here.”
“Did you kiss her?” Tristan asked.
“No.” Jett took Tristan’s hand and pulled her down the hall. She pushed open the bathroom door. “Everything you need is in the medicine cabinet. All the toothbrushes in there are new.”
“Did she kiss you?” Tristan leaned against the doorjamb and spread her legs for balance.
“Yes.”
“I knew she would. I would. I’d come back for you too.” Tristan skimmed her fingertips over Jett’s cheek. “She got there first. God damn it.”
Jett gripped Tristan’s shoulders firmly and kissed her mouth very, very softly, then the line of her jaw, then below her ear. “No, she didn’t. Now shut up and get ready for bed.”
“You love her, though.”
“Shut up, Tris. We’ll talk later.” Jett pushed her over to the sink, and Tristan braced herself with both hands on the sides of the vanity, her head lowered. Jett found a toothbrush and put toothpaste on it. “Here.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“So are you. Here.”
Tristan took the toothbrush. Jett stood with her arm around Tristan’s waist while Tristan brushed and splashed cold water on her face. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Jett said.
Tristan looked at Jett in the mirror. “I want you so bad.”
Jett closed her eyes because she recognized the longing in Tristan’s. She’d seen it in her own eyes for years and never knew quite what it meant. Tristan was in no shape to hear anything right now, and if Jett kept looking at her, she was going to have to touch her. She opened her eyes, dropped her arm, and backed away. “The bedroom is right next door, Tris. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Tristan watched Jett’s reflection waver and fade in the glass and she panicked. She spun around. “Jett. I’m sorry.” The sudden motion made her dizzy and her stomach took a nasty dive. She closed her eyes and fought to stay upright. “Always push you away. Don’t mean to.”
“You don’t.” Jett steadied her. “It’s okay.”
“Please don’t go.”
“Come on.”
In the bedroom, Jett turned down the covers. “I’ll stay for a while. Get undressed so you can sleep.”
“I’m okay now,” Tristan muttered.
“I’m not.” Jett kept her eyes on Tristan’s face as she kicked off her shoes, unzipped her pants, and took them off. Then she pulled her T-shirt over her head and let it fall behind her. She slid between the sheets and Tristan hurriedly followed.
“Turn on your side,” Jett murmured, and when Tristan complied, she spooned against her from behind and wrapped an arm around her. She nuzzled her face in the bend of Tristan’s neck. “Now go to sleep.”
“I’m so fucking tired.” Tristan found Jett’s hand and molded it to her breast.
“I know you are.” Jett kissed her neck. “I know.”
“No,” Tristan protested, sounding on the verge of sleep. “Of all of it. Being lonely. Being alone.”
“I know, baby.” Jett kept her hands still, even though Tristan’s nipple was a hard knot against her palm and Tristan rocked her hips slowly in the curve of her pelvis. Desire pounded through her, warring with a tenderness so profound she wanted to weep. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and rubbed her face over Tristan’s shoulder. She needed her in a place so deep she had no name for it.
“I can hear the way you’re breathing,” Tristan muttered. “You’re hot, aren’t you? Hard, too, like you were before.”
“Yes,” Jett said thickly. “You do that to me. Now shut up, and go to sleep.”
“Make yourself come,” Tristan whispered. “Do it for me.”
Jett shuddered. “Tristan.”
“Please, babe. Hold me while you do it.” Tristan clasped Jett’s hand and squeezed Jett’s fingers around her breast. “I need you and I’m so fucking tired.”
“It’s about more than just being hot, Tris,” Jett whispered.
“Yeah. For me too.” Tristan released Jett’s hand and rolled onto her back. She hooked her arm around Jett’s shoulder and pulled her close. “But that’s part of it. Isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.” Tristan kissed Jett’s forehead. “Do it.”
Jett slid her thigh over Tristan’s and reached down. “Hold me.”
“You too.”
“I will.” Jett turned her face against Tristan’s neck and filled her mind and senses with Tristan. She moaned when she came, and Tristan, sighing with pleasure, finally relaxed into sleep.
*
Five hours later Tristan opened her eyes, sat up in the strange bed, and took stock of her surroundings. The room was spartan. A single dresser with items arranged in orderly rows on top of it. A double closet, the doors closed. A chair beside the closet with a pile of neatly arranged clothes, probably waiting to be put away. Books on the bedside table. Sunlight just beginning to break through the windows. A small electric clock reading 6:32.
She pushed the sheet aside and swung her legs to the floor. She was naked. She ran her hand over her chest and down her abdomen, and then she remembered Jett. She remembered Jett shuddering in her arms, softly whispering her name as she trembled and came, and the memory took her legs out from under her. She ended up back down on the bed, her limbs shaking and her heart doing somersaults. God, she couldn’t think of another night, another woman, another moment that had felt so special.
The rest of the evening came back in a flash, and she remembered pretty much all of it. Except how she’d ended up on the sofa with Darla on top of her. For a few minutes there she’d checked her sanity at the door. Christ, and Jett had found her that way. Now Jett was missing. She looked around again and saw her clothes folded on a battered locker at the foot of the bed. She was certain she didn’t do that. Jett must have done it after she was asleep. Jett had taken care of her. Not the way Darla would have, but Darla would only have done what she knew Tristan wanted. Only now, Tristan realized that this was what she wanted. A stack of folded clothes, the safety of being held, someone to look in on her in the night. No, not just someone. Jett.
Tristan stood again and waited for a few seconds for her stomach to settle. No headache, but she was queasy. She’d been too strung out and tired the night before to eat. No wonder a co
uple of scotches had practically put her on her ass. On her ass with Darla in her pants. Jesus. She picked up the pile of clothes and frowned. Sorting through them, she realized that they were not only neatly folded and stacked, they were clean. She tucked them under her arm and crept quietly down the hall in the direction of the living room.
Jett sat on a stool at the table in a faded green T-shirt and matching boxer shorts—Army issue, probably—bent over an array of tiny gold workings and several empty watch cases. She wore magnifying glasses built into a visor around her head. She held tiny screwdrivers and tweezers in a delicate grip. Tristan felt a twinge in her belly remembering what those hands were capable of doing to her body.
“You did my laundry,” Tristan said.
Jett swiveled in her direction and took off her visor. Her eyes scanned Tristan’s naked body. “It was either that or burn them. Mine too.”
“Thank you.” Tristan walked toward her. “Did you sleep at all?”
“An hour or two.” Jett leaned back on her stool until the table stopped her from easing away any further. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling like I don’t know what’s going on.” Tristan dropped the clothes on the floor next to Jett. She held her hands out at her sides, palms facing Jett. “I feel like one of those watches you’ve got there, with my insides scattered all over this apartment. I need you to put them back.”
Jett rose abruptly and pulled Tristan into her arms. She kissed her, one hand on the back of her head, her fingers laced through Tristan’s hair. She was trembling. So was Tristan.
“Tris,” Jett whispered, her mouth gliding down Tristan’s neck. Her skin was so soft, sweet and salty. She rested her forehead on the top of Tristan’s shoulder, watching Tristan’s nipples tighten as her breasts rose and fell rapidly. “I want you, but—”
Tristan groaned. “Please. You want casual, I’ll do casual. Just, please…please don’t tell me to go.”
“No!” Jett jerked her head up and cradled Tristan’s face. “No. No. Not ever. I can’t.”
“Then what?” Tristan cried. “You love her? Is that it?”
“No,” Jett exclaimed again. “Jesus. No. I’m in love with you.”
“Are you going back to…” Tristan flinched. “What did you just say?”
Jett took in the absolute confusion and disbelief on Tristan’s face, and she understood. She finally got it. Tristan didn’t expect to be loved. She didn’t believe she’d ever be more than someone’s “friend with benefits,” a temporary diversion. Tristan was so wrong.
“I said,” Jett repeated softly, “I love you.”
“Oh fuck.” Tristan buried her face in Jett’s neck. After a second, Jett realized she was crying.
“Hey. Tris. Hey.” Jett led her to the sofa and pulled her down. She fumbled for the thin blanket she kept folded up on the back for the nights when she slept there and draped it around Tristan’s shoulders. “Just listen, okay.” She pulled Tristan into her arms and rubbed Tristan’s back through the light cotton covering.
“Listen.”
“I’m in room 1017,” Gail said. “Come up.”
Jett rode the elevator, not thinking about much of anything at all. She’d never once been alone with Gail anywhere except on the military base. She couldn’t quite believe she was going to see her, here, now. After all this time.
She walked down the hall and stood in front of the door, contemplating why she had come. Wondering if it was another mistake she would regret for a lifetime. Before she could knock, the door opened. Gail stood in the entrance in a light blue silk robe that came to mid thigh, tied loosely at her waist. Her hair was damp and tousled, the way it used to look just after she’d showered.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you,” Gail said.
“I should’ve called.” Jett backed up. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No!” Gail hurriedly grasped Jett’s hand and pulled her into the room, then closed the door and locked it. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“I almost didn’t.” Jett took several steps and stopped abruptly. She could see the bed now. The covers were turned down and the sheets were very crisp and very white. She felt awkward and out of place. She did not belong in this room with this woman like this.
Gail turned back when she realized Jett was no longer following. She grasped Jett’s upper arms and ran her hands up and down them, as if afraid if she stopped touching her, Jett would disappear. She leaned into her and kissed her softly. “I’m sorry about what happened. About our misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding.”
“Yes.” Gail cupped Jett’s cheek. “You must know how terribly fond of you I am.”
Jett nodded. “I’m a lesbian, are you?”
Gail couldn’t have looked more surprised if Jett had slapped her. “Of course not. I told you that.”
“Then why did you kiss me?”
“We’re friends. I’m glad to see you.”
“No. That night.”
“I didn’t.”
“All right. Then I apologize. Good night.” Jett turned and reached for the door. Gail might not be able to admit the truth, but Jett could. Gail had wanted Jett to kiss her, and she’d kissed her back. But Gail had never loved her, and she…she had loved a dream.
“Jett!”
Jett didn’t turn around.
“I can’t risk my career.” Suddenly Gail was behind her with her arms around Jett’s waist. Her breasts were firm against Jett’s back as her hands roamed over the front of Jett’s body, caressing her breasts, her stomach, the length of her thighs. “But we could have these ten days. They could be our secret.”
“A secret.”
“Yes,” Gail said urgently, turning Jett to face her. Her robe was partially open, her breasts nearly exposed. She pressed against Jett, her arms around Jett’s neck. “God, I’ve dreamed about this.”
“I thought I frightened you. I thought I hurt you.” Jett caught Gail’s hands and stopped her from pulling her shirt from her pants. “I wanted you so much, and I thought I hurt you. I thought that’s why you left.”
“I couldn’t, not there. But here. Here.” Gail kissed Jett again, her breath coming fast. “No one ever needs to know.”
Jett gently pushed her away. “I would know.”
“Please, Jett,” Gail pleaded. “You need it. I know you do.”
“No, I don’t. Not like this.” Jett opened the door and left her sorrow where it belonged, in the past. “Good-bye, Gail.”
“I want to kill her for hurting you,” Tristan said when Jett finished telling her.
Jett lay back on the couch and pulled Tristan with her so they were side by side. She kissed Tristan softly. “It’s over. I’m okay—sad, maybe, but for her more than me. But thank you.”
Tristan, her expression solemn, traced a fingertip along the edge of Jett’s jaw. “Do you still love her?”
“I told you this morning. I love you. I never loved Gail—I never loved anyone—the way I love you.”
“But you said but earlier…if it’s not Gail, then what?”
Tristan’s voice held so much uncertainty and pain, Jett’s insides hurt. She didn’t want Tristan to doubt how special she was, but she was afraid of her own feelings. She shifted uneasily and pulled away. “It’s me, Tris. The way I am.”
Tristan gripped her harder. “Don’t. Don’t pull away from me. What do you mean, the way you are?”
“That night with Gail, I lost it,” Jett confessed. “I was kissing her, and then something snapped and I was just crazy out of my mind to have her. I thought that’s what drove her away. I’m like that with you, only worse. It’s like…I feel sometimes if I can’t get inside you, own you, make you want me that way, I’ll die.” Jett pressed her face into Tristan’s hair. “God, Tris, I can’t help it.”
“And you think I want that to change,” Tristan asked, her voice husky. “Don’t you know I want you to want me that much?” She straddled Jett’
s thigh, her naked center against Jett’s leg. “Can you feel how hot I am? How wet I am? I’m soaking you, aren’t I?”
“Mmm, yeah. Now look who’s hard.” Jett gripped Tristan’s hips and pressed her leg harder between Tristan’s thighs. Tristan rapidly slid down the length of her thigh and back up, then moaned and did it again. “Keep that up and you’re going to come.”
“I want to.” Tristan threw her head back, gripping Jett’s wrists. She looked down, her eyes hazy, searching Jett’s face. “Can I?”
Jett eased one hand between Tristan’s legs and stroked her clitoris. “Say please.”
“Oh, Jesus, please.” Tristan rocked harder, rubbing herself on Jett’s hand. “Please, babe, please. Help me get off.”
“Why should I?” Jett countered, speeding up her hand action between Tristan’s legs.
“Because I need you,” Tristan cried.
“Why else?” Jett demanded.
“Because I love you.” Tristan ground into Jett, her eyes flickering between Jett’s face and Jett’s hand between her legs. “I love you. Oh God, babe, you’re going to make me come.”
“That’s all right, baby, that’s what I want.” Jett finally understood what she’d always needed. “Because I love you too.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jett couldn’t believe she’d actually fallen asleep and slept without dreaming. Judging by the slant of sunlight coming through the windows on the opposite side of the room, it was late morning, close to noon. She never slept that many hours in a row. And she never slept without part of her mind being aware of her surroundings. Tristan was still curled up beside her, her head on Jett’s shoulder. Jett stroked her hair.
“Hey,” Tristan murmured, rubbing Jett’s stomach with her hand underneath Jett’s T-shirt. “You don’t move when you sleep.”
Jett laughed. “Did you stay awake the whole time to check?”
“You don’t relax completely, either.”