Little White Lie

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Little White Lie Page 18

by Lea Santos


  “Honey,” she said simply. “She’s not worth it. I’m done with Vitoria and what she did to me. She’s nobody. Besides, I sort of owe her a debt of gratitude.”

  Gia squinted. “Come again?”

  “If she hadn’t tricked me onto the show, I would never have met you.”

  Hope whirled through Gia. What did Emie mean? No assumptions. If she was happy fate brought them together, then— “What’s troubling you?”

  Emie bit her bottom lip hard enough that Gia winced just watching her.

  “I-I have to ask you something, Gia. And…it’s not going to sound so good. Stupid, even. But I have to. Please understand.”

  “Ask, querida.” She spread her arms and smiled, feeling so much love for this vulnerable yet powerful woman. “My life is an open book to you.”

  Emie tossed her head, looking off toward the stretched canvases and paintings leaning against the walls. “Yesterday, I was making coffee.” She swallowed several times and wicked away more tears.

  Gia waited. She couldn’t help but notice Emie seemed embarrassed. Almost apologetic.

  “A-and…I’m not a…suspicious person normally, but I-I’ve been so hurt. It’s no excuse. I know that. God, I’m not sixteen. I have a PhD.” She waved her hand weakly. “Anyway, I saw you.” Her face crumpled. More tears. “Coming from your house. With…with a woman, and I just—”

  Realization dawned, and Gia nearly laughed with relief. Emie thought she had another woman? As though Gia could ever look at anyone else but sweet, generous, brilliant Emie Jaramillo. But the best thing about this whole misunderstanding was—Emie cared. Gia felt it now, the solidity of it, the truth. “Oh, no no. Do you mean the hug?”

  Emie nodded, looking weepy and sheepish.

  Gia leaned closer and cradled Emie’s face in her hands. “It’s not what you think. Why didn’t you bring it up sooner?”

  She studied Gia’s eyes, then shrugged. “Who was she?”

  Gia had planned on waiting until the time was right to show her the painting, and the time couldn’t get any more right than this. Instead of answering her question, Gia stood and reached out a hand. “Come. I’ll show you.”

  Emie stared up at her, then rose unsteadily to her feet. Gia tucked Emie’s arm into the crook of her elbow and pulled her closer. Together they walked toward the cloth-draped canvas on the easel. Gia leaned her head closer to Emie’s. “You remember I told you I had caught the interest of some gallery owners who wanted to view my work, yeah?”

  She nodded.

  “The woman you saw was Mimi Westmoreland. She and her husband own one of the most prestigious galleries in Denver.”

  “Yes, I know of it.” With a sharp intake of breath, Emie glanced up, wide-eyed. “And?”

  Gia grinned, too proud and excited to rein in the emotions. “And they love me. My work, that is. They consigned several of my pieces and I’m going to have a private opening.”

  “Gia! But that’s wonderful.” Emie threw her arms around her neck and Gia lifted her, swung her around.

  Laughing, she set Emie on her feet but didn’t release her. Their bodies, from breasts to shins, pressed together, and the perfection of Emie’s softness molded against her own body shook Gia’s composure. She smoothed one palm down Emie’s back, just to the curve of her sexy ass. Drinking her in with loving eyes, Gia whispered, “It’s common practice for a gallery owner to visit the artist’s studio to view her work. When you saw me, Ms. Westmoreland and I had just come to a very favorable business agreement.” Gia took the chance and kissed the tip of Emie’s nose. “That’s all.”

  Emie groaned. “God, I’m an idiot! An insecure idiot. I’m so sorry I asked. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I came to tell you.” Gia dipped her chin. “But I found an envelope taped to the door instead.”

  Emie’s cheeks reddened. “I feel stupid. I should’ve known. I should’ve trusted you.” She buried her face into the plush safety of Gia’s chest.

  “I never gave you much reason to.” She kissed Emie’s hair.

  “You never gave me reason not to.”

  “It’s over,” Gia whispered. “No te preocupes. If I’d seen you hugging another woman, I would have gone mad and ripped her limb from limb.”

  Emie glanced up, eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Not really. I’m not that kind of a woman”—she winked—“remember?”

  “I do,” Emie said, on a soft laugh.

  “I would’ve worried, though.”

  Emie expelled a breath. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “Wait. There’s more.”

  “More?”

  Gia reached up and deftly pulled the air-light silk from the painting, then stepped back to allow Emie an unobstructed view. Her gaze moved from Emie’s profile to the painting and back, heart pounding wildly. She wanted Emie to love the portrait as much as she did.

  “My God,” Emie breathed, mesmerized. She clutched her fists at chest level. After staring open-mouthed for several seconds, she licked her lips. “It’s me.”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes glistened with raw emotion. “I look…”

  “Beautiful,” Gia whispered, moving closer. “Just as I’ve always seen you. Just as the world will see you in the Westmoreland Gallery, mi corazón.”

  “Oh, Gia. I’m…speechless. Is this what you’ve been working on so diligently?”

  “Yes. This is the piece that made Mimi Westmoreland hug me.” Gia reached out and traced Emie’s cheekbone. Her skin felt like silk, powder, rose petals. She was excruciatingly soft and pliant. “So, you see, once again, this whole thing is all your fault.”

  Emie laughed, inclining her head to stare at her bare feet. When she looked up again, her gaze sizzled. She reached out and touched Gia’s lips. Gia’s eyes fluttered closed as desire ripped through her. She wrapped her hands around Emie’s wrist and peppered her palm with soft kisses.

  “You’re so gentle with me, G.”

  “You make me feel gentle, querida.”

  “Well, you make me feel perfect, just as I am. So we’re even.” Emie sighed. Gia opened her arms, and Emie melted willingly into the embrace, holding her tightly, kissing her chest through the T-shirt.

  “Emie, you feel so right in my arms.”

  “Then let me stay here,” she whispered.

  “For as long as you want, baby. It’s all I’ve wanted.”

  She pressed her cheek against Gia’s heartbeat. “We’ve made some mistakes, Gia.”

  “That’s okay.” Gia smoothed Emie’s soft hair with a palm. “We have time to correct them. All of them.”

  Emie’s head came up. Her eyes searched Gia’s face, looking more secure, more brazen. Infinitely sexy. “You remember the kiss?”

  Gia snorted softly. Did she remember it? It consumed her every waking thought and most of her dreams. “Ah…yes.”

  “If you recall, we got interrupted…” Emie said, trailing off.

  A burning arrow of desire pierced Gia’s heart spiraling down to pool, hot and heavy, low in her body. “Yes, we did.”

  “Well…” Emie nestled closer. Trusting. Loving. She ran her finger from the hollow of Gia’s throat, between her breasts, all the way down the front of her, then hooked it in her waistband. “That was a mistake. Don’t you think?”

  “An unfortunate mistake.”

  “An unfortunate mistake that I think we should correct,” Emie whispered. “Right now.” With a not-so-subtle movement against Gia’s body, Emie made it abundantly clear what she wanted.

  “Are you sure?” The words came out husky.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Iris always says the true test of a silk cocktail dress is how beautifully it floats to the floor.”

  Gia bent down and swept Emie into her arms, smiling as she carried her to the bed. She deposited this woman she loved so much onto the comforter and came down gently on top of her, intending to make love to her all night long if Emie allo
wed it. Hell, all week long. She ran her tongue into the sweet warm valley between Emie’s breasts, one of many valleys on her beautiful landscape that Gia planned to explore with her tongue, her hands, every part of her body.

  A tentative kiss grew almost instantly more urgent, and soon Emie was pulling at the buttons on Gia’s shirt, tugging at the zipper of her jeans.

  Gia closed her hand gently over Emie’s. “Slow down, love.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted you for so long, slowing down isn’t an option.”

  Gia paused, huffed out a short laugh. “We’re idiots. You know that?”

  “Yeah. Isn’t it great?”

  They laughed, as garment by garment, their clothing dropped to the floor next to the bed. Before long, their naked bodies were pressed together, skin on heated skin, and then they did slow down. Their gazes tangled, so intimately. Gia wanted to soak it all in, not rush things. Then again, her body screamed otherwise.

  “What are you waiting for?” Emie asked.

  “I…don’t know. I’m trying to make sure this is real.”

  Emie threaded her fingers into Gia’s hair and leaned up to kiss her deeply. When they broke apart, panting, Emie said, “It’s real. I am naked in your bed, for God’s sake, woman. Don’t make me wait much longer or I’m going to flip you over and take charge.”

  The very thought sent a thrill through Gia. Her body throbbed, and she moved against Emie, edging one leg between those firm, silky thighs, only to find her hot and oh so wet. “What do you want?”

  “You. All of you. Touching me. Tasting me. Inside me. And then I’m going to repay the favor, big-time.”

  Gia groaned, raining kisses on Emie’s neck, her chest, before finally taking one hardened nipple into her mouth, tugging and nibbling. With her other hand, she cupped the soft, firm perfection of Emie’s other breast.

  She felt Emie’s whimper of pleasure rumble in her mouth, which only urged her on.

  Emie’s hips raised, pressed into Gia’s thigh. Crazed with desire, Gia wound one arm around Emie’s back and pulled her harder against her leg, moving with primal desire as she released one breast to lavish attention on the other.

  Their breathing grew more urgent, their movements more intense. Emie’s legs began to shake, and Gia kissed her way down that beautiful body until she captured Emie’s moist heat with her mouth.

  Emie gasped and pressed against Gia’s tongue, urging her on, spreading her legs wider. Gia found Emie’s sweet spot and sucked, reaching down to ease two fingers, then three, into her slick, tight center.

  “Yes,” Emie whispered. “Harder.”

  Gia willingly complied, pulling Emie toward her, making love to her like she’d dreamed of for so long. When Emie’s body contracted around her fingers, Gia curled up the tips to tickle Emie’s G-spot, and within moments, Emie arched her back as a gush of hot wetness tantalized Gia’s tongue. God, Emie tasted like heaven and felt like home. Gia didn’t want to stop. She continued pushing into Emie’s sweet body, deeper…deeper, until Emie reached down and grabbed hold of her wrist, chuckling.

  “Stop. I can’t take it.”

  Gia stilled her movements but remained inside Emie, enjoying the feel of her quivering aftershocks. She smoothed the wetness from her cheeks on the inside of Emie’s thighs, then kissed her way up until she captured Emie’s mouth with her own. The kiss lingered, until Gia couldn’t discern the sweet taste of Emie’s mouth from the erotic taste of her body.

  Eventually, their breathing slowed, and she gently slid her fingers from inside Emie, only to be met with a disappointed groan that made Gia grin. “There’s more where that came from, Em. This is only the beginning.”

  Their gazes met, tangled, connected.

  Emie’s eyes moistened, and she sighed. “G?”

  “Yes, baby girl?”

  “We’re not done here.”

  “Thank God for that,” Gia said, yearning to be vulnerable with a woman for the first time in a very long time.

  Emie gently rolled Gia on her back and stilled. As her hand moved down Gia’s body, her words came out wobbly, passionate, so filled with a promise Gia had waited a lifetime to hear. “I love you, Gia. So very much. Do you know that?”

  “I do know, querida,” Gia whispered, lifting trembling lips toward Emie’s again as she opened herself up for the woman she’d waited a lifetime to find. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  About the Author

  Lea Santos has been concocting tall tales since she was a child, according to her mother. Usually these had to do with where she was, who she was with, and whether or not she’d finished her math homework (which she hadn’t). When it came time to pick a career, Lea waffled, then dabbled in everything from guiding tours in Europe, to police work, to bookkeeping for an exotic bird and reptile company—probably not the best choice, since (1) she never did finish that math, and (2) the Komodo dragons freaked her out. (A lot.) She eventually decided to go with her strengths and continue spinning wild stories, except this time, she’d turn them into whole books and call it a career. She rarely lies anymore about where she’s been or who she was with…

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