“You smell good,” Beth said.
Dylan’s heart heaved at the softness of Beth’s voice, the boldness of her comment. She took the bottle from Beth and swigged. As Dylan reached over Beth’s thighs to place the bottle back on the mat, they slid, ever so slightly, to the left.
“This is fun,” Beth chuckled.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Quietness settled.
Dylan cleared her throat. “I, uhh, I was in the office this afternoon and I saw an email from Brian.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t open it. I just, uh, I saw the preview…”
Beth’s silence only served to make her fear all the more real.
“It’s tempting,” Dylan murmured. “Fat pay packet. Back in civilisation.” She paused. “I mean, you must miss your family. And the city. The Barracks would be lucky to have you.”
“I’m not considering it.”
She wasn’t? “It’s just that it came through as a reply, so I figured that maybe you’d shown interest…”
“I’m not considering it,” Beth repeated, firmer this time.
As their eyes locked, absolute understanding passed between them. Dylan’s heart slowed.
Beth held her arm out for Dylan to read her watch face. “What time is it?”
Dylan lifted the torch and held it above Beth’s wrist. “Twenty to ten-ish,” she read. “Should start soon.”
Beth linked her legs around the tripod of the telescope. “Where’s Aries?” she asked, her face pressed to the eyepiece.
“I’m not sure.”
“I’m an Aries.”
She scoffed. “Don’t I fuckin’ know it. You’re a know-it-all born leader with a wicked competitive streak.” She paused. “Also,” she added, “you’re very loyal.”
Beth licked her lips. “What’s Aquarius like?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Why not? It’s your star sign.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know that I missed your birthday in January.”
Dylan folded her hands behind her head. “Well…I guess I’m witty, creative, curious. And a great kisser.”
Beth pulled back from the telescope and reclined on her elbow. She smiled down at Dylan beside her on the pillow. “Hey,” she said, pulling lightly at a loose thread on the bedspread between them, “I Googled why storms are named after women.”
The very instant that the corners of Beth’s lips lifted, Dylan arched an eyebrow. She knew that grin, could read the curl of her lips—Beth had a joke on the tip of her tongue. Here we go…
“It’s because they…” She paused. “Hold on, I just have to think about it.”
“You know, if I didn’t know you any better—if I didn’t know that you couldn’t tell a joke to save your life—I’d think you were drunk.”
“I can tell a joke.”
“You can’t, but it’s okay because there are so many things that you do so, so well.”
Beth huffed. “I have it…I just…” She paused to think. “It’s because they…they arrive with—”
Dylan shook her head with a smile. “The joke goes, “It’s because they come wet and wild then leave with your house.” She smirked as if to say, isn’t that right?
As realisation struck her, Beth sucked at her bottom lip. “Okay,” she said, “so I see why I shouldn’t have told that joke…”
Dylan shrugged lightly. “You have to laugh.”
Beth was quiet as she took a sip of wine and placed the bottle back down on the mat. “Can you?”
“Can I what?”
“Can you laugh about it?” Beth asked seriously.
She met Beth’s eye. This was it—the moment to seize. “I…”
Dylan’s head snapped around as the first striking flash bolted across the sky. Beth gasped and lunged for the telescope, but Dylan grasped her by the shoulder. “No, no, just lie back.” Dylan flicked off the torch. “You don’t need the telescope. We can see it…”
The white fireballs showered the sky in bursts, chalking evanescent lines across the dark. “This is fantastic! I’ve never even seen a shooting star,” Beth said. Her voice had grown hoarse from a day of taking nine tours, and only now, lying beside her in the night air, was Dylan beginning to hear the familiar rasp.
“Really?” she whispered.
“You can’t see the sky like this in the city. You can see stars, of course—it’s not that smoggy—but it’s not this pretty, this bright. I looked at clouds a lot as a kid, too often probably, but never stars. I suppose if I had looked up I may have seen a shooting star, but I just never gave it much notice. Isn’t that ridiculous? I’m almost forty and tonight is the first time that I’ve really paid attention to the night sky.”
In the darkness, she saw Beth’s lips part in tiny gasps as she watched the light show. She looked content…at peace. Hunger tightened in Dylan’s chest. All she wanted was to ghost her fingertips along Beth’s jaw, thread her fingers through her hair and kiss her. She looked back up at the sky, her skin prickling with the sharp awareness of Beth beside her. She’d never wanted like this.
Drawing the courage from somewhere deep inside, Dylan let herself reach down for Beth’s hand. But her fingers inching across the blanket in search of warm fingers found only the blank space of the bedspread. She chanced a glance down her nose and squinted in the dark. Beth’s hands were clasped together on her belly. She sighed in disappointment.
Seconds later, Beth sat up and scooted down the bedspread. She sat on her haunches and adjusted the telescope.
Before she could lose her nerve, Dylan sat up behind Beth and wiped her sweaty palm on the bedspread. Heart firing, her hand hovered over Beth’s shoulder. She drew a deep breath and reached out, hesitantly drawing Beth’s hair back from her ear.
Beth’s hands stilled on the finder scope as Dylan pressed forward, her nose brushing against her hairline. She breathed her in. Beth’s skin was hot, her pulse heavy beneath Dylan’s lips. As Dylan’s lips skimmed below her ear, Beth’s breath hitched.
“I have been so angry with you,” Dylan said softly. “But I think maybe a small part of it was because, deep down, I knew selling was the right thing for me. Before you got here, even before Elma left us, at times…at times it felt like something was missing from my life. Like I needed some kind of change.”
Dylan’s stomach dropped. It felt like they were on a precipice. “When you finally made the decision, it was like you pushed me out of my comfort zone. I wasn’t okay with that. I didn’t want to be pushed. I couldn’t handle it…especially when the one person who made me feel safe out in the world just suddenly disappeared.”
As Beth turned, Dylan’s parted lips brushed the line of her jaw. Beth exhaled sharply.
“I got so used to you and then I just lost you,” she whispered against Beth’s skin. “I lost the best friend I’d had in a really long time.”
Beth tilted her head until their foreheads were touching, their breath mingling in the cold air. Her eyes were closed, long, dark eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.
“But I don’t want to be your friend,” Dylan said breathily. “I can’t be just your friend.” She leaned forward until their noses brushed. Her eyes slipped shut and she wet her lips, her skin prickling with excitement.
The moment stretched on, long and tense. And then she leaned forward and kissed Beth.
When her tongue slid heavily into Beth’s mouth, Beth gasped. Dylan’s body hummed with the need to say more, to confess and confess and never stop sharing until Beth knew every single thing about her, until Beth understood the reason for every empty space in her heart. Breathless, she drew back and raked her fingers through Beth’s hair, held it back from shielding her face. Beth’s eyes shined with unbridled desire. Her lips were parted, trembling like she was parched. Dylan dropped a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’ve loved you every day,” she whispered against Beth’s lips. “
Every day.”
Beth got to her knees, drawing her closer into a desperate kiss. As Beth breathed pretty little sounds into her mouth, Dylan clutched at her behind and encouraged her legs around her waist. She hiked her up and gently laid her down until she was pliant beneath her.
Beth’s heartbeat was strong beneath Dylan’s hands as she drew her touch over her back and around to grasp her waist. Dylan’s thumbs dipped low, into the hollow of Beth’s hips and pressed. Beth’s hands slipping under her jumper spurred her on all the more.
“You know what our problem is?” Dylan said.
“Mmm?” Beth moaned.
With Beth’s fingernails teasing along her back beneath her shirt, Dylan struggled to get the words out. “You were always too afraid to ask for what you want.” She pressed a kiss behind Beth’s ear. “You still need to learn to ask for what you want.”
“Yeah?” Beth whispered throatily.
Beth’s low wandering touch ignited her lust like kindling. Hot kisses abandoned Dylan’s lips to paint her cheeks, her temple, the line of her jaw.
She clutched at Beth’s hips. “Yeah.”
Beth’s teeth linked around her earlobe. “I want you to make love to me,” she rasped.
Dylan’s thigh slipped between Beth’s and she pulled urgently at her hips, drawing Beth’s lower body hard against her own. Beth’s thighs locked around her leg in an instant, and Dylan ground down. The bedspread slipped against the curtain and Beth laughed into the kiss, but abruptly sobered as Dylan tensed her thigh to grant her the friction she was so frantically seeking.
Beth reached out, the shower curtain crunching loudly as her hands fisted in the plastic. Slowing the roll of her hips, Dylan reached out and took Beth’s hand in hers, and Beth sighed sweetly as Dylan laced their fingers together. She traced her other hand over Beth’s neck, down over her chest, her breast, to settle at her waist, and Beth squirmed under the press of her body like it had been years since she’d been touched.
She brought Beth’s hand to her hip so that she could hold herself above her more surely, and confidence surged through her like electricity. As she settled, her forearm resting beside Beth’s head on the pillow, their gazes held. She kissed Beth deeply, certainty fastening like pins in a lock.
“You t-taste like wine,” Beth stammered shyly, her loveliness vibrating beneath Dylan.
Beth’s breastbone was hot under her lips. She flicked Beth’s top button open with her teeth. Beth shivered.
“Are you cold?” she whispered to the hollow of Beth’s throat. “Do you want to get inside the bedspread?”
Beth shook her head. She pinched Dylan’s jaw between her thumb and forefinger and drew her into a kiss. The sound that escaped Dylan was low, animalistic. Beth pulled back, her eyes electric. “I just want you inside me, okay? I want you inside me.”
Dylan groaned, her chest aching with unfulfilled desire. The space between her legs burned for more. Reaching between their bodies, she flicked the button of Beth’s pants. She peppered gentle kisses across Beth’s neck, nipped lightly with her teeth. Beth keened. She slipped a hand inside and found wet heat.
Beth gasped, her hip popping from the quilt below them.
As Dylan’s hand flattened between her legs, Beth’s thighs pressed firmly against the side of Dylan’s hips. Holding herself above, she watched as Beth bit at her bottom lip, her teeth sinking so hard they looked ready to pierce skin. Her neck was flushed pink, her hair mussed by Dylan’s eager fingers. A trembling mess, she looked already halfway gone and Dylan had barely touched her.
“I want to go slow,” Dylan confessed, her fingers barely circling.
Beth looked up at her, eyes hooded.
“Is that okay? Can we go slow?”
Beth arched her back and pressed into her. Dylan stilled, trying to read her body. Through her shirt, Beth’s lips were warm as she whimpered into her shoulder. Suddenly, Beth relaxed back into the bedspread. Her hands swept between their bodies, tapping against Dylan’s stomach as she fumbled with the button of her jeans and lowered her zipper. The warmth of her palm skimmed low against Dylan’s stomach as she snaked her hand into Dylan’s pants to match her touch.
Slender fingers teased through her, Beth’s touch measured, deliberate. Dylan’s breath hitched. She dropped her head to Beth’s shoulder and released a shuddery breath.
Beth’s lips ghosted over hers. “We can go slow. We can go so slow…”
As Dylan attempted to draw breath into her lungs, the aftershocks of her last orgasm tingled along her skin like static. She was loath to move, but her body burned hotly. She sat up, dizzy, and tore off her jumper, tossed it to their feet and welcomed the bite of the cold night air on her bare arms.
“I think we desecrated poor Marion Crane,” Beth said shakily.
Dylan looked over at her in the dark. Her cardigan was open, and sometime between Beth’s first and second orgasm, Dylan had managed to peel her shirt open down to her diaphragm. She watched as Beth fixed the lacy bra cup that Dylan had pulled down, covered her breast, the straining nipple. As Beth started on her shirt buttons, Dylan laughed.
Beth turned her head on the pillow. “What?”
“You look like someone’s just taken the school librarian to pieces.”
Beth huffed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex so completely dressed before. Or in a pair of gumboots.”
Dylan’s chest rose and fell harshly. “What’s the verdict?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Feeling has yet to return to my legs.”
Dylan threw a hand over Beth’s waist and kneaded the soft flesh at her hip. “I have to make a confession.”
Beth’s fingernails trailed across her scalp. “Mmm?”
“The floodlight’s working.”
A smile slowly breaking across her lips, Beth rolled onto her side. Propping herself up on an elbow, she looked down at Dylan. “What?”
“I made it up. I just wanted to get you out here under the stars.”
Her smile fading, Beth’s fingers trailed across Dylan’s jaw to rest on her lips. Dylan swallowed at the intimacy of Beth’s light caress, the way Beth’s eyes focused on her mouth as she watched her own thumb pull at the fullness of Dylan’s bottom lip. When she lifted her gaze and met Dylan’s, peace blossomed in Dylan’s chest.
Beth playfully flicked the thin strap of Dylan’s singlet against her skin, and with a long sigh, lowered her head back to the pillow. Dylan watched her curiously as she tilted her head back to look at the homestead. She did the same. It was luminous in the dark, like something out of a children’s fairytale.
Dylan lowered her gaze. Beth’s eyes had slipped closed and her lips were parted ever so slightly. “We need to move,” Beth mumbled, her breath warm on Dylan’s chin. “You need to put your jumper back on before you get pneumonia…and we need to go home to bed.”
Anticipation trickled through Dylan’s veins like a drug as she considered falling asleep beside Beth at night, waking up with her at dawn. She smoothed a hand over the curve of Beth’s waist. “Come home with me?” she whispered.
Beth’s eyes fluttered open.
Epilogue
Beth hadn’t checked her email all day. At twilight, when she finally climbed up to the loft and seized her chance, she was delighted to find a new message from Dylan, complete with a voice recording attached.
With Dylan down in Sydney, it had been almost a week since they’d last seen each other. Although they had spoken each night on the phone, Beth missed the sound of her voice, her casual company. She looked across the desk to the red roses sent that morning. The gesture was incredibly sweet, but looking at the arrangement only made Beth all the more disappointed that they were spending their first anniversary apart. She’d just have to console herself with the fact that they had plans for the night after on Dylan’s return. In the meantime, they both needed to be where they were—Beth managing the homestead, and Dylan in, of all places, a recording studio in Sydney.
&
nbsp; The idea of incorporating audio tours into their system had dawned on Dylan when Belinda had taken leave to look after her new grandchild and they’d been understaffed for a few months. And just as Dylan did everything in life, in order to get the idea up and running, she’d approached creating the short, interactive audio tours with great enthusiasm. She’d scripted the snippets for each room herself, basing them on conversations between the Blaxlands as detailed in Sarah’s diaries.
Beth had had a hand in editing the scripts, but Dylan had taken it from there and voiced every sound bite. In bed late at night, they’d spent hours recording the scripts on Beth’s phone.
At first, Beth worried that the audio wouldn’t work as smoothly as Dylan had presumed, but with a few practices, the integration had been remarkably simple. Dylan’s scripts added a certain lightness to the tours that Beth hadn’t realised had been missing. And at peak times when they were really under pressure, the audio tours allowed them to lead two tours at once, leaving one group with the audio for a few moments while they spoke to another, and vice versa.
When they’d sent the recordings to Brian to persuade him to fund the hardware, he’d been so impressed that he’d asked Dylan to create audio tours for all the Sydney museums. In just six months, Dylan had toured all of the Association’s museums, written scripts, and recorded the dialogue. Brian had suggested hiring voice actors, but Dylan had been hellbent on doing it herself. And, although Beth was somewhat biased, she had to say that Dylan had done an amazing job.
Although Dylan was tone deaf singer, she had an incredible knack for accents, slipping into any dialect at a moment’s notice. She could change her voice at the drop of a hat, too, switching from an elderly Irish woman to a precocious seven-year-old Scottish boy with talented ease.
Preparing herself to hear all the hard work Dylan had put into the latest tours, Beth tucked her legs under herself on the chair and wrapped her jacket around her middle as she listened to Dylan’s reading. She sighed in relief. Dylan really had done it. The recording was clear, professional, the studio recordings always so different to the hollow, staticky recordings on her phone. The voice recording was so commanding in the loft, so loud that, when the thump sounded, Beth only just heard it.
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