Prescription for Love

by Radclyffe

  “Did you?” Flann brushed a strand of hair from Abby’s throat. Her fingers lingered.

  “Yes.”

  “You think I need looking after, do you?”

  “Oh no, not you. I forgot, you don’t need anything except a little fun and companionship.” Abby meant to say it lightly, but it came out more seriously than she intended. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate and—”

  “You’re right, most of the time. You’re not right now, though.” Flann clasped her upper arms gently and drew her forward. “Right now I need something else. Something very, very specific.”

  “Flann,” Abby protested.

  “You, Abby. Right now I want you so much I can’t think.” Flann slid her palms from Abby’s shoulders and down onto her forearms, tugging her until they were a whisper apart. “You looked really good sitting at the table this morning. Like you belonged there. You fit this place, Abby, this world.”

  “Flann, I don’t—”

  “Don’t think.” Flann leaned close. “Just take, Abby. Take.”

  Impossibly, Abby couldn’t think. Somewhere a voice, her voice, cried Yes, for once, yes, take.

  Flann kissed her, the first silky caress of her mouth barely more than a whisper, gently at first, building with each teasing pass to possessive and sure.

  Abby stiffened, swamped by a hunger she’d never experienced. A little afraid, and terribly greedy for more. Flann held her firmly, unapologetically, as if Abby belonged to her. She’d never been held with so much authority, never been kissed with so much assuredness. Their bodies weren’t quite touching, but heat enveloped her. She tilted her head to get more of Flann’s mouth, slid her arms around her neck, breathed her in. Her nipples tensed and her thighs trembled. Another kiss stole through her, lightning fast, heat lightning, setting her ablaze. She pressed closer, heard herself moan softly.

  Flann groaned and swept her hand down Abby’s back, tugging her scrub shirt up and spreading her fingers over Abby’s lower back. Her touch was a claim. Mine. Mine. Abby arched into her, pressing close, closer, her heart beating against Flann’s.

  “God, you feel so good.” Abby laced her fingers through Flann’s hair, cupping the back of her neck, sealing the kiss as Flann’s lips parted and they delved deeper.

  “Abby,” Flann groaned again, leaning back on the door and dragging Abby hard against her. A dizzying swell of desire rocketed through her. Flames raced across her skin, burning her with pleasure. Abby tasted so sweet, like hot honey on fresh biscuits, rich and full. Her kisses were wild, and so, so ready. Flann swept her palms down Abby’s sides and up again, thumbs stroking the undersurfaces of her breasts. “I want my hands all over you.”

  “Your leg,” Abby gasped.

  “It’s fine,” Flann growled, kissing her again. Abby’s breasts were firm against her own, the pressure a tease that shot to the pit of her stomach. Abby’s skin was soft and Flann let her hand drift beneath the top of her scrub pants until her fingers feathered the swell of her ass. Abby fit, every curve and sensuous plane of her. Their bodies were perfectly aligned. Every tilt of her head, every sweep of her tongue and Abby was there, answering. Passion for passion, need for need.

  “Come to bed,” Flann gasped against Abby’s ear.

  Abby pressed her palms flat against Flann’s upper chest and pushed away an inch. “Flannery, we can’t. Your family’s right downstairs.”

  “They’re downstairs, we’re up here.” Flann’s eyes were dangerously dark, ravenous.

  “I’m not going to bed with you.”

  “Why not?”

  Abby shook her head. She’d lost her mind. She couldn’t be kissing Flannery Rivers. “Because I’m not. I’m not—I’m not a good-time girl, Flann. And this is a really, really bad idea.”

  Flann grinned, a ferocious smile that reminded Abby of a lethal predator about to pounce, and tightened her hold on Abby’s waist. “It’s a fucking great idea. Just kiss me again.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m sorry, I don’t have any excuse. I—”

  Flann’s eyes sparked, flame in obsidian. “What excuse, Abby? We’re both adults. You want me, I want you. What’s so complicated about that?”

  Abby jerked back. “Really? That’s all it takes? A little bit of lust and you just follow your hormones wherever they lead? Well, I don’t. I’ve got a lot more to think about than taking care of an itch.”

  “Maybe you should try scratching that itch sometime. You might find out you like it.” Flann’s voice was low but nearly a snarl.

  “When and if I decide to scratch, it’s not going to be with you.” Abby managed to extract herself from Flann’s grip. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to try to get a little sleep before I have to go back to work. I’d like you to leave.”

  Flann’s jaw clenched, and she battled down the haze of lust. What the fuck was she doing, with Abby of all people? She reached behind her, found the doorknob. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I apologize for taking advantage where I wasn’t invited.”

  Abby’s head spun. “Advantage? Hardly, I—”

  “I can assure you, it won’t happen again.” Flann yanked the door open. “I’ll let Glenn know she’ll need to ride back to the hospital with you.”

  “What? I…”

  Flann disappeared, and Abby stared at the closed door. Dammit. How had she let that happen? Flann thought she’d taken advantage? Please. She’d practically climbed up Flannery like a tree. Where had all that need come from, and how did she get rid of it? Her lips still tingled. Her belly throbbed with the demand for release. She hadn’t let it happen, she’d wanted it, almost from the first moment she’d seen Flannery Rivers in the ER. Flannery was the forbidden fruit she’d secretly been longing to taste. Well, now she’d tasted her, and she’d just have to figure out a way to stop wanting more.

  *

  Flann stared at the closed door and cursed viciously under her breath. Of all the stupid, asinine moves she’d ever made in her life, jumping on Abby Remy had to be at the top of the list. She never made a move on a woman that she hadn’t planned in advance. She always judged the field, made sure she had a good read on the signals, analyzed the defense—and the offense, for that matter—and mapped her play down to the last detail. She didn’t like complications and had learned early on to recognize when she and her date weren’t working the same game plan. When she’d first discovered girls, she thought everyone was as eager and crazy to explore sex as she was. It didn’t take too many hysterical breakups and broken hearts—fortunately short-term at that age—for her to realize otherwise. By the time Harper had hauled her down to the tree house and lectured her on the right way to go about treating a girl, especially one she wanted to have sex with, she’d pretty much figured it out for herself. She’d gotten herself into a few other snags in college and medical school, mostly from dating more than one girl at a time, and she’d finally given that up too. Now she was strictly a serial dater—usually short-term—and she made sure the game plan was clear from the beginning.

  Until tonight. She’d thrown away the playbook where Abby was concerned. She’d just walked up to the plate and started swinging away. Christ. She turned on her heel and stomped down the stairs, nearly bumping into Harper and Presley at the bottom.

  “I thought you were headed to be—” Presley began.

  “Changed my mind.” Flann swerved around them, avoided the kitchen and her mother, and escaped through the side door at the far end of the hall. Once outside she took a deep breath of morning air. A layer of ozone lingered, biting at her eyes, and her skin instantly misted with sweat. All the same, the sky was clear and promised a brilliant day. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, waiting for her heart rate to come down and her body to lose the razor edge of arousal that had stripped her control and her reason. When she had half a brain back, she strode toward the barn. She’d never be able to sleep, and even if she could, she wasn’t about to go back upstairs and stretch out on a bed with Abby a room away
. The state she was in, she’d probably end up scratching at Abby’s door like some pitiful stray, begging to be let in for crumbs.

  “Fuck.”

  “What’s the matter, Flann?” Margie said, coming around the corner of the barn.

  Flann growled. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  Blake appeared behind Margie, his arms full of kittens. Belatedly, Flann noticed Margie had one tucked under her arm.

  “I thought I told you not to go in that barn until—”

  Glenn stepped into view. “Harper and I checked it out a few minutes ago. That one corner is pretty bad. You all are lucky no one got hurt any worse.” She scratched a tiny kitten head cradled in Blake’s arms. “These guys were raising hell in the hayloft. We put a ladder up against the side to get them out through the hatch. The kids didn’t go inside.”

  Flann raked a hand through her hair. “Right. Sorry. How’s it look?”

  “It’s salvageable. The roof needs shoring up in the back, about a quarter of the slates are gone or broken and need to be replaced, and we’ll need to put on new siding.” Glenn dropped a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Luckily, we’ve got a pretty good crew. As soon as Harper says the word, we’ll get going.”

  “I’ll talk to her. Maybe next weekend we can get started.”

  “Good enough.”

  “Glenn,” Flann added with calm she didn’t feel, “I’m going to head over to my place. Can you grab a ride with Abby when she wakes up?”

  Glenn shot Flann an appraising look and nodded. “Sure. No problem.”

  Flann turned away as the trio continued to the house. Glenn and Abby—perfect match. Perfect. Duty done. Now she could forget all about Abby and the hot, hard press of Abby’s body cleaving to hers or the way Abby tilted her head to deepen the kiss, guiding Flann right where she wanted her. God, the woman was all flame and sweet temptation. And off-limits.

  The barn had taken a beating. The chicken coop they’d built just before the storm hit was miraculously still standing. Sections of roof had blown away but most of the structure remained. Glenn was right. The damage was primarily to the exterior. The barn was worth saving, and they could do it.

  “What’s the problem?” Harper said from behind her.

  Flann didn’t turn around. “No problem.”

  “Didn’t look that way when you were storming down the stairs.”

  “Leave it alone, Harp.”

  “Something happen with Abby?”

  “Nothing happened.” Flann gritted her teeth. “Why don’t you go find your perfect woman and curl up in your perfect house and have perfect sex and leave me the fuck alone?”

  Harper debated tackling her, dragging her to the ground, and pummeling her until she talked. It would be faster and probably easier for both of them. However, their mother was in the kitchen, and they’d catch hell if she found out, and she was too damn tired to wrestle anyhow. She stepped up beside Flann and stared at the mess of the barn. “What did you do?”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of being the family hero?”

  “It’s a burden, I’ll admit,” Harper said quietly, “but I’ve learned to bear it.”

  Flann barked a laugh. “You ass.”

  Harper grinned. “Since we both know I’ve made plenty of mistakes, I’ll take that comment as self-directed. What’d you do?”

  Flann gripped a handful of hair and twisted. The pain cleared her head a little but didn’t make her feel any better. “I kissed her.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised,” Harper said. “You’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

  “Now you’re a mind reader as well as a saint?”

  “You’ve been practically drooling every time you look at her.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Have it your own way. You kissed her. And?”

  “Let’s just say it wasn’t welcome, and I should’ve known that from the beginning.”

  “Did you barge in with your usual lack of finesse? Maybe you just caught her off guard.”

  “Fuck you,” Flann said for form, but she couldn’t muster up much heat. “It was a mistake, all right?”

  “Why was it a mistake?”

  “That should be obvious.”

  “Not to me,” Harper said. “You’re single, she’s single, you’ve got the hots for her, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s been sending you a few appreciative looks too.”

  “Oh, for chrissakes, Harper. It’s not about hormones.”

  Harper stared. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s not about wanting to get laid, okay? Abby’s—she’s just not somebody I want to fool around with, okay? She’s got a kid, she’s got a new job, a whole new life to get settled into. Christ, she’s actually got a life. The last thing I want, or she wants—which she made abundantly clear—is for us to get mixed up in anything.”

  “I thought you said you just kissed her. Was there a lot more you left out?”

  “No.”

  “Sounds like a lot of overreacting to me.”

  “Look,” Flann said. “It was a bad idea. I know it. She knows it. Won’t happen again.”

  “Flann,” Harper said, “if you care—”

  “I don’t, okay?” Flann turned and stalked away. “I don’t.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Abby opened her eyes in an unfamiliar room, sunlight washing over her face. The ornate tin ceiling was painted a soothing taupe. A breeze fluttered through the open window, scented sweetly with hay and clover. Had she really slept? She must have. A collage of memories bombarded her. Presley’s farm. The beautiful bedroom. The storm. The long night in the ER and the morning…Flann. Oh God, Flann. Heat stroked through her, settling unerringly in the pit of her stomach. Flann’s kisses—arrogant and unapologetic, simmering and demanding. Her kissing Flann back, just as greedy. Where had the greed, the need, come from? She’d kissed women before, felt desire before, but never such all-consuming hunger. The mindless, endless want haunted her still. Her breasts tingled with the memory of Flann’s hands just barely grazing her flesh. Her clitoris swelled and pulsed. The ache between her thighs grew heavier, an unfamiliar and ecstatic beat. How easy it would’ve been to say yes. Her body was still saying it. Her heart and mind, though, were retreating from emotions and sensations she’d never expected and wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to embrace.

  Abby pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the bed. Sometime in her sleep coma she’d shed her clothes. They lay in a heap by the bed. She brushed her hand over her breasts and down her belly, experiencing the swell and planes of flesh as if for the first time. This body, alive with sensation, felt nearly as unfamiliar as the longing that even now rose through her. She hadn’t just opened her eyes in a strange room, she’d awakened in a body transformed to a world that looked and smelled and felt different than the day before. She laughed out loud. Sleeping Beauty indeed, roused from oblivion by a kiss. And in Flann’s case, the handsome prince couldn’t have been handsomer, but Abby’s erstwhile prince had been anything but gentle and refined. More a marauder than a royal courtier, storming the castle to make her claim. Flann had urged her to take, and she had, but she’d wanted to be taken as well.

  Come to bed, Flann’s dark eyes commanded.

  And Abby’d almost said yes.

  “But I didn’t,” Abby whispered. She was no fairy-tale princess, there was no prince in the guise of a drop-dead-gorgeous surgeon coming to save her when she didn’t need saving, and the only fairy-tale ending she needed was a nice stable life with no drama and a secure future for her and her son. And if her body thought otherwise, there were logical reasons for that. She was, after all, living breathing flesh, and she knew very well where desire came from: the pulse of blood, the rush of hormones, the burst of pheromones that ignited neural pathways. All perfectly rational and explainable. No reason to attach any extreme significance to that kiss. Okay, those kisses, plural. Now that she’d had time to slow down, take a metaphorical breath, she was sim
ply aware of sensations she hadn’t had time to acknowledge before. And other than that, life went on just as it had before. Still the same responsibilities, the same obligations, the same plan to fulfill. And right now, that plan included taking care of her son and getting her butt—her naked butt—to work.

  Instantly, she saw herself naked in Flann’s arms, and after seeing Flann’s bare legs more than once, she had no trouble imagining the rest of her unclothed. The pounding between her thighs jumped into overdrive. For a millisecond she contemplated sliding back under the sheets and finishing the fantasy with her hand between her thighs.

  Wonderful. Now she’d regressed to the age of fourteen. When exactly had she lost all control of her senses?

  Resolutely, she gathered up the crumpled scrubs and prayed the bathroom was nearby. A shower would make all the difference. At this point, she’d even try a cold shower and see if the old adage was true. Spending the rest of the day in a state of unrequited arousal was not her idea of fun. She halted at the end of the bed and took in the small wicker basket someone had placed just inside the door with a neat stack of scrubs and an array of toiletries. She opened the folded note atop the pile.

  Bathroom is across the hall on your right. I thought you could use these. Talk to you later, Pres.

  “I’m going to kiss you for this.” Abby quickly pulled on the old scrubs, picked up the basket, and dashed across the hall to the bathroom. The doors up and down the hall were closed and she couldn’t help wondering if Flann slept behind one of them. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she saw Flann and Carrie wrapped up together. The image prompted a mental snarl, and she twisted the shower dial hard enough to send a blast of water splashing onto the tiles outside the enclosure. She yanked off the old scrubs, pushed them into a clothes hamper in the corner, and stepped under the spray.