“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry” burst out of Spencer, as she dropped her bag to the floor.
They stood for a moment, as if freeze-framed, staring at each other, smoothie all over Spencer’s neck and chest and running down her right leg. She noticed immediately that Rebecca had one drop on her cheek and that was it.
Of course.
Before Spencer could say anything else, apologize again, or come up with a rarely used curse to toss back at her, Rebecca sighed loudly and grasped Spencer’s wrist. “Come with me.”
As she was tugged unceremoniously down the hall, Rebecca called in to the room on the left as they passed, “Bobby, can you clean up the smoothie spill in the hall?”
“You got it,” came the reply, and Spencer saw him leap to his feet. “I’ll do a great job.”
Spencer allowed herself to be pulled along like a badly behaved toddler until they entered a locker room she’d never seen before. Rebecca led her past the lockers and into a bathroom that was a bit nicer than the one the members used, less generic with more personal-looking décor. She was just reaching the conclusion that it was the staff locker room when Rebecca stopped them at a sink, turned Spencer so her back was against it, and grabbed a towel off the shelf.
Rebecca wet part of the towel and stepped close, into Spencer’s personal space, and began wiping the smoothie off. Something in Spencer’s head clicked and her anger began to simmer. She pushed at Rebecca’s hands.
“Stop it.”
Rebecca ignored her.
“I can do it myself,” Spencer said, her ire growing. “I’m not a child.”
Rebecca didn’t look at her, just kept on with her attempts to wipe the remnants of smoothie away, moving the towel along Spencer’s neck, her throat, switching from a gentle touch to a rougher one then back so quickly, Spencer had trouble figuring out which it was, and that made her a little crazy. When Rebecca moved the towel to Spencer’s collarbone and dangerously close to her breasts, that was it.
Spencer snapped.
“What is wrong with you?” She slapped at Rebecca’s hands, her voice filled with frustration. “Why are you all over the place with me? What have I ever done to you?” Again, her eyes welled up and again, she was supremely irritated by the fact.
Rebecca’s hands stopped moving, but she didn’t step back, and her gaze stayed just below Spencer’s eyes, for a long stretch, and Spencer tried not to think about the fact that Rebecca was looking at her mouth. When she finally did look up, make eye contact, her expression caused Spencer to go completely still. Rebecca’s eyes were filled with so much. So, so much. Confusion. Anger. Sadness.
Desire.
That last one was just registering in Spencer’s mind. Her lips parted in realization and she inhaled a quick breath—which was all she had time to do before Rebecca moved. Not away, but closer and then she dropped the towel, grabbed Spencer’s head with both hands, and crushed their mouths together.
Suddenly, they were kissing. No, they weren’t kissing. They were full-on making out, and it wasn’t gentle. There was nothing tentative about it. Rebecca pushed closer to Spencer with her entire body, pinning her against the counter. Spencer felt every single inch of them that touched. Breasts, hips, pelvises, thighs. She felt Rebecca’s fingers slide into her hair, clutch the back of her head, felt Rebecca’s tongue press into her mouth, and God help her, Spencer moaned and kissed her back. With abandon.
Reckless abandon.
The rest of the world fell away. There was no other sound but their kissing and the occasional soft hums or breaths. There were no other smells but Rebecca’s usual scent of brown sugar and something uniquely her. Spencer felt nothing else but Rebecca’s hands, in her hair, on her back, Rebecca’s mouth taking her, owning her in the most delicious of ways, and Rebecca’s body under her own hands. Her slim waist, her firm shoulders, muscles flexing, bunching.
Time didn’t exist. Spencer had no idea how much had passed, nor did she care. She’d never been kissed like this before. Not with this much passion, this much heat. She’d never in her life felt this wanted. She didn’t want it to end; it was like an instant addiction. It had never been this difficult for her to not begin undressing the person before her. As if they had minds of their own, Spencer’s hands slipped under the back of Rebecca’s shirt, and the smooth warmth of the skin there sent a surge of her own wetness to her center, her body already preparing for more.
A sudden, sharp knock on the door shocked them so thoroughly, the two of them literally jumped apart, like young teens caught by their parents.
“Rebecca?” It was Bobby, his cheerful voice seeming entirely out of place, given what they’d just done. “Hall’s all clean and I left that blond lady’s bag out here.”
Rebecca tried to speak, croaked instead, and cleared her throat, her eyes never leaving Spencer’s. “Thanks, Bob.”
Spencer couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t find words. She could barely find thoughts. She brought her fingertips to her swollen lips and felt her eyes widen with the realization of what she’d just done. They stood that way for what felt like hours, neither saying a word. She wondered what Rebecca was thinking, almost asked, but decided it was probably better if she didn’t know. It took massive effort on her part, but Spencer finally managed to pull her gaze away from Rebecca’s, to untangle herself from that eye contact she’d craved for so long and now wanted—needed—to be free of.
With a hard swallow, she turned the knob and opened the door. Bobby was gone, thank God, but her bag was right there on the floor, just as he’d said.
Without looking back, she scooped it up and left the room, bound for her car on unexpectedly wobbly legs, moving as quickly as she dared, the only thing on her mind being escape. Because if she stayed around Rebecca, she knew exactly what would happen.
Chapter Thirteen
Rebecca barely slept Friday night, and by five thirty Saturday morning, she was so aggravated by her own tossing and turning that she muttered a “screw it” and hauled herself out of bed.
In fact, everything was aggravating to her at the moment. Her coffee seemed bitter and a bit too strong. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that she was on her fourth cup. The Law & Order reruns she’d been staring at from the couch for the past four hours were from the only season she didn’t like. The brilliant September sunshine was far too cheerful and happy, and Rebecca wished she had a switch so she could dim it just a bit.
None of it really mattered, if she was being honest, because truthfully, that stuff was only taking up part of her thought process. The rest was taken up by one single subject.
Spencer Thompson.
Okay, maybe not one single subject because she was also thinking about Spencer’s eyes. And Spencer’s hips. And God, Spencer’s mouth. That soft, warm mouth and—
“Oh, my God, stop it, McCall. You’re going to drive yourself crazy.” She said it aloud, and it seemed to ricochet around her empty living room before returning to settle right back on her chest.
Another half hour went by before she managed to drag her body into the shower, making the water as hot as she could stand it and letting it beat down on her shoulders. She stood there, eyes squeezed shut, trying to see anything but Spencer’s eyes in her mind.
She was only mildly successful.
Maybe a walk would do her good. Early September was gorgeous, Rebecca’s favorite time of year besides the Christmas season, and she put on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. Deciding to let her hair air-dry, she was just reaching for her Nikes when her doorbell rang. She left them in the closet as she glanced at the clock, then padded barefoot to the door. At ten thirty on a Saturday morning, she expected to see Jehovah’s Witnesses. Or possibly a politician stumping early for the upcoming campaign season.
What she didn’t expect to see was Spencer.
They stood for a beat, just looking at each other, apparently neither one of them knowing what to say. Spencer looked unsurprisingly beautiful i
n denim capris and a white button-up camp shirt. Sandals were on her feet, and Rebecca noticed her purple toenails. Oddly, it occurred to her that she’d never seen Spencer’s feet, that she was always in sneakers when they were together. Eyes roaming back up, Rebecca took in the golden waves of Spencer’s hair, held back over her ears by the sunglasses perched atop her head.
“Spencer,” Rebecca finally managed to say, her voice slightly hoarse. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Spencer said, her eyes darting from Rebecca’s face to somewhere behind her to her feet and back again. “Listen, can I talk to you for a second? I promise it won’t take long.”
Rebecca cleared her throat and stepped back, held out an arm toward the interior of her house. “Sure. Come in.”
Spencer stepped into the small foyer but didn’t enter further. Rebecca shut the door and they stood there. Silent. Spencer’s sandals must have had a slight heel, and with Rebecca barefoot, they were exactly the same height.
“Your hair’s wet,” Spencer said softly.
Rebecca blinked at her, then reached up, grasped some with her fingers. “Yeah. I just…got out of the shower.”
Spencer nodded, stared for a moment before seeming to force her eyes away. She looked around the room, like she was taking it all in. After a beat, she cleared her throat. “Look. Rebecca. I just needed to address what happened last night.”
Rebecca nodded. She’d hoped they could just go on about their lives and never have to discuss it, but Spencer apparently didn’t agree. “Okay.”
“It can’t happen again.”
A beat. “Okay.”
“I mean it. I’m engaged. I have a…you shouldn’t have…I mean, I shouldn’t have…” Spencer inhaled sharply and glanced off to her right as if frustrated with her stuttering and looking for a way to collect herself.
When she returned her focus to Rebecca, her eyes had that same gleam from last night and Rebecca felt her entire body straighten to rigidity, brace itself, because somewhere, somehow, deep down, she knew what was coming.
With a soft whimper, Spencer repeated, “Your hair’s wet.” Her shoulders sagged with what seemed to be defeat. As the breath seeped out of her, she said very softly, “Goddamn it.”
And the next thing Rebecca knew, Spencer was in her arms, grabbing her face, kissing her. Just like last night, there was nothing gentle. Spencer moaned loudly as Rebecca wrapped her arms around her tightly, pulled her close, kissed her back with all she had.
Rebecca backed Spencer up against the door, a soft “oof” pushing from her lungs. Rebecca pulled the sunglasses from Spencer’s head and set them on a small table nearby, then dug the fingers of both hands into Spencer’s glorious hair, the waves seeming to immediately wrap around them as if celebrating the lack of her usual ponytail. Spencer’s hands trailed down Rebecca’s back and she felt them cup her ass, squeeze it. Rebecca grinned against Spencer’s mouth.
Seriously, had she ever kissed anybody like this before? Rebecca had wondered the same thing last night. What was it about Spencer? Why was kissing her so astonishingly arousing? Rebecca had kissed her share of women in her thirty-five years, but not one of them had made her feel like this. Desperate. Needy. Uncontrolled. Not one.
Freeing a hand from Spencer’s tresses, Rebecca moved it down and slowly unbuttoned Spencer’s shirt until it hung completely open, exposing bra-clad breasts and a bare stomach to her feasting eyes.
Rebecca moved her mouth from Spencer’s and slid her tongue down the side of her neck to that sweet spot where it met her shoulder. She closed her mouth over the skin there, savored the softness, the sweet taste of it. Her other hand still in Spencer’s hair, she tugged gently just like last night, forcing Spencer’s head back, allowing Rebecca free access to the long column of her throat. With lips and tongue, Rebecca bathed it even as her free hand slipped slowly up Spencer’s stomach and cupped one very full breast through her bra.
Spencer gasped and the sound yanked Rebecca back to her senses long enough for her to glance up and see the desire, the naked arousal on Spencer’s face.
“Rebecca…” Spencer whispered, and it cut straight through Rebecca, down to her center, made her throb uncomfortably. “I can’t…”
Rebecca dropped her head, took a small step back. “You came to me,” she said quietly.
“I know.” Spencer grasped the sides of her unbuttoned shirt as if to button it back up. “I know.”
It started to simmer a bit, low in Rebecca’s stomach, the confusion seasoned with a pinch of irritation. “What do you want, Spencer?” she asked, then wiped her fingers across her own swollen lips. “I can’t figure you out.”
“Join the club,” Spencer muttered.
Her eyes welled up, and just like that, Rebecca’s irritation vanished. She wanted to wrap Spencer up in her arms, protect her from the world. That was something she hadn’t felt in a very long time, and she didn’t know what to do with it.
They stood there, each seeming to absorb the presence of the other, when Spencer’s expression changed. In an instant. It was like her resistance simply left her, and she gave in. Rebecca actually saw it happen, saw the moment it fell away. And then Spencer’s hands were reaching for her.
Rebecca locked her eyes to Spencer’s, searched them for permission, found it. She moved in closer, returned her hand to where it had been, kneaded Spencer’s breast through the bra, then dipped in and pulled it out, freed it for her eyes, her mouth to feast on.
Spencer’s hand in her hair tightened, clenching, guiding, small whispers of “my God” and “yes, please” reaching Rebecca’s ears as she ran her tongue over an erect nipple. She was lost in sensation, in the feel, the scents, the sounds of Spencer and her body, and she did her very best to ignore the tiny voice in the back of her head that kept promising her this was a terrible idea, that it would end badly.
I don’t care.
It was the truth. She couldn’t have stopped now if she wanted to…and she didn’t want to. Rebecca had never wanted anything, anyone, so much in her life. And Spencer wanted it, too. That much was startlingly clear. Spencer’s hesitation had completely vanished. Her hands were everywhere, tugging at Rebecca’s clothes, as she kissed her with authority.
With need.
Wrenching their mouths apart, Rebecca said through heaving breaths, “We’re not doing this here. Our first time isn’t going to be in my living room.” She grasped Spencer’s hand and led her to the bedroom, barely recalling the trip, and they didn’t miss a beat once they were there. Standing next to Rebecca’s bed, they undressed each other in record time, as if they couldn’t wait. And they couldn’t. Rebecca looked into Spencer’s eyes and saw her own want reflected back at her. It spurred her on, made her fumbling fingers move faster. Spencer was down to only her underwear—a simple white pair that matched her bra—in a matter of seconds, and Rebecca wasn’t far behind. By unspoken agreement, they climbed onto the bed.
The eye contact was unexpected. Rebecca had to admit that. What they were doing, it wasn’t a good thing. She had to concede that, but still. No, she didn’t care in the moment. All she wanted was to feel Spencer underneath her, her warm skin, her wet heat. And if Spencer showed any hesitation, any signs of second-guessing this, Rebecca vowed to back off immediately. This bargaining had gone on in her head without her even realizing it, but when she met Spencer’s gaze, saw the certainty there, the unwavering desire, and when Spencer reached for her, Rebecca threw caution to the wind. She had no choice.
The bed she’d made barely an hour ago was suddenly unmade. They slid between the sheets, mouths fused together, legs entwined, bare skin sliding deliciously against bare skin. Rebecca wasted no time running her hands over every inch of Spencer she could reach. Her shoulders with the light dusting of freckles, her arms that had become so much stronger, the stomach she was so self-conscious about, down the curve of her hip to the new solidity of muscle in her thighs.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Rebecca whispered as she pul
led her mouth away from Spencer’s. She saw the blush as it happened, starting at her throat and sliding its way up over her chin, her cheeks blooming splashes of pink. Rebecca ran her fingertips across Spencer’s swollen lips. “I mean it.”
“Thank you,” Spencer said, just as quietly. “I love that you think so.”
“Oh, I do.”
“I feel the same way about you. I have since the first day I laid eyes on you.”
That was news to Rebecca. News that made her feel warm from the inside. Warm and a little mushy. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm. Even though you didn’t like me.”
It was Rebecca’s turn to blush. “I didn’t. You’re right. Which wasn’t to say I didn’t find you hot. ’Cause I totally did.”
Spencer’s chuckle rumbled up from her abdomen. Rebecca could feel it where their stomachs touched. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Rebecca. “We’re going to revisit the fact that you hated me on sight.” Then those eyes darkened, went all sultry, and her voice got low. “But later. After.”
Rebecca arched a brow playfully. “After what?”
“After I have my way with you.”
And just like that, Rebecca found herself on her back, staring at her own ceiling while a gorgeous blond woman used her mouth to do erotic things to her breasts. Rebecca’s breathing became ragged, her fingers closing and opening in Spencer’s hair, trailing down her bare back. Sounds came from her own throat that she didn’t recognize, as Spencer worked her way down, sliding Rebecca’s underwear along her legs and off, baring her completely.
Never a fan of being exposed—to anybody—Rebecca was shocked by her own comfort. Spencer spread her legs wide, settled herself between them, and looked up Rebecca’s naked body. Met her eyes. Held them. Rebecca had never felt such a connection. Ever in her life.
And then Spencer took her. Dove in with abandon. Lips, fingers, tongue. She took Rebecca. Owned her. Owned her in a way Rebecca had never experienced, had never known she wanted to experience, and frankly, had no idea Spencer was capable of. She tried to keep track of what was where, when it was a hand or a tongue or a finger, when it was touching her thigh, her folds, sliding in, but everything blended into one giant wave of sensation, until there was nothing but joyous pleasure. Rebecca let her head fall back onto the pillow, the sheet gripped in her fingers, and gave up trying to concentrate, allowed herself to simply feel.
The Shape of You Page 14