Radclyffe - Fated Love

by Fated Love (lit)

And there was no doubt in her mind that that was what she wanted—a relationship with Honor that went beyond friendship. She 'd felt the connection to Honor from the instant they'd met, and every moment they'd been together thereafter had strengthened it. She was drawn to Honor's strength and certainty as well as to her tender compassion. And there was no denying the desire that simmered whenever she thought of her, and that burst upon her like an inferno in Honor's presence. The sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the curve of her smile—everything excited Quinn.

  Sighing, frustrated by events she could not control and plagued by a physical urgency she could not quench, Quinn thrashed restlessly beneath the sheets. She heard no sound in the house and had lost her usual intrinsic sense of the time, probably as a result of the earlier pain medication. Although she presumed that everyone had gone to bed, Quinn found herself wide awake. And not just wide awake—thinking about Honor had stirred more than her loneliness. She was aroused in a way that she had not been even before her recent illness had overshadowed her sexual urges. In the past, sex had been a pleasant form of recreation and a satisfying outlet for stress. The physical hunger she felt now was an ache that reached to her very soul, and she knew in a place beyond reason that only Honor could assuage the need.

  Quinn pushed the sheets aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The immobilizer kept her arm strapped across her midsection, hampering her movements and promising to make undressing a challenge. Nevertheless, at the moment, she desperately needed a shower to divert her from the insistent unrest that beat between her thighs. She could, she supposed, attempt to quiet her physical turmoil by her own hand, but that option held no appeal. Relief that sated her body but not her soul would be empty of pleasure.

  She pushed herself upright, searched until she found her jeans folded over a nearby chair, and, with her pants over her free arm, padded barefoot to the door. The hallway beyond, lit dimly by a single sconce at the top of the far stairway, was deserted, and she headed in the direction of the bathroom Honor had pointed out earlier. She'd almost reached it when Honor stepped out of the room directly across the hall.

  Silently, they regarded one another in the deep stillness of the sleeping household.

  "I thought I heard you," Honor said quietly. In truth, she'd been lying awake for hours, thinking about Quinn in the room down the hall. Remembering the way she'd looked asleep, and how it had felt to touch her. Knowing that she wanted to touch her again—everywhere. Admitting that she wanted to be touched in return. She hadn't wanted that since Terry.

  "Sorry," Quinn whispered, trying desperately to read what she saw in Honor's eyes. Their dark depths were hazy, liquid and warm. She recognized desire, and although her mind might question the Tightness of it, her body did not. Her belly fluttered. Distantly, it occurred to her that she was naked except for a shirt and briefs. As if in apology, she lifted the jeans in her hand. "I was going to take a shower."

  Honor's eyes flickered down Quinn's body. The bare legs were smooth and strong. The navy shirt stopped just at Quinn's hips, and a triangle of white nestled between her thighs. Honor wrenched her gaze upward before she could reach out and rest her palm over that soft pale swelling. Her heart thundered madly in her chest, and her legs trembled. Her desire was a wild thing, not rational, not reasoned, but sharp and clear as summer lightning. Scorching and hot and impossible to hold.

  "You'll need some help with that shoulder," Honor said hoarsely.

  "Yes."

  "I could call Phyllis...or I could help you."

  "You." Quinn couldn't take her eyes from Honor's. She doubted that Honor had any idea that her eyes spoke of arid plains long thirsting for rain and the promise of blossoms opening to the kiss of moisture upon their petals.

  If I touch her, she won't tell me to stop. If I touch her, I won't be able to stop. And if I touch her now, it will be too soon. Because she doesn 't know what's in her eyes. Her body might welcome me, but not her heart. .

  Honor's legs trembled and her hands shook. She didn't recognize herself; she didn't recognize what she was feeling. Or she did, and was stunned by it. How can I desire her this way? How can I feel that if I don't have her hands on me, I'll die from the wanting?

  Quinn backed up a step, knowing that if she remained within touching distance, no amount of rationalization would keep her from reaching out and tracing her fingers along the delicate edge of collarbone laid bare by the soft cotton robe that came to Honor's midthigh.

  "If you give me a hand with the buckles and straps, I can handle the rest of it."

  Throat dry, Honor nodded. "Okay. I'll find you some sweats and leave them on the counter. Then, when you're ready to get dressed,..I'll give you a hand."

  "Good. That sounds good." Quinn found the handle behind her, opened the bathroom door, and slipped inside. Honor followed, and now they were even closer within the confines of the small room.

  "How do you feel?" Honor asked as she opened the first strap holding Quinn's arm confined to her chest. Her fingers brushed against the curve of Quinn's breast under the cotton shirt as she carefully lifted the sling.

  Quinn bit her lip, unsuccessfully willing her nipple not to tighten. Apparently, the autonomic nervous system does not respond to mental commands. In another minute, Honor had released the last buckle and Quinn cradled her injured left arm with her right while Honor worked the strap over her neck and eased the supporting material down her shoulder.

  "All right?" Honor's touch was gentle.

  "Not bad," Quinn informed her. She suddenly felt exposed in only her polo shirt and underwear.

  Honor looked up, catching Quinn's eyes on her and liking the quick rush of pleasure at the appreciation she saw in those blue depths. "Your shirt."

  Quinn nodded. "At least we've had some practice with that."

  "Mmm, Remind me to bring you something with buttons." Once again, Honor carefully and efficiently worked the shirt off until Quinn stood naked except for her briefs. Honor didn't mean to, or maybe she did—-she wasn't certain anymore of what she intended—but her gaze dropped to Quinn's breasts. They were beautiful—high and firm and rose tipped, the hard nipples blushed dark with desire. Slowly she lifted a hand, her fingers trembling. Oh God, this is a mistake. But she's so, so lovely.

  "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, baling 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

  I t 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, Honor 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 yoice 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 joc
k 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."