by Radclyffe
“Oh Tory,” Reese moaned. “You’re so beautiful.”
Tory couldn’t speak, she could barely breathe. She’d never come this way before, with Reese inside every cell of her body, every molecule of her consciousness. She hadn’t thought they could be any closer. but somehow they were. She pulled her hips back and then pushed down hard on Reese’s hand, and came again.
“Oh my God,” Tory gasped when she caught her breath. She laughed weakly. “What did you do?”
“Me?” Reese flung her head back, spraying sweat into the air like tears. “Me?” She slowly inched her fingers from within Tory’s body. “Jesus Christ—you said more.” She kissed Tory hard, a possessive, hungry kiss.
“True.” Tory stroked Reese’s face, then began to unbutton her shirt. “More is never enough.” She pushed the material aside and kissed Reese’s chest, then slipped her hand inside to caress her breast. “But that was damn close.”
Reese shivered.
“Cold?”
“No.”
“You didn’t come then, did you?” Tory kissed Reese’s throat and toyed with her nipple. “I can usually tell but I was so…so gone, I couldn’t tell up from down.”
“I’m okay. It was amazing.”
Tory sucked on Reese’s lip, then bit it gently. “Okay? Okay? Oh, that is just not good enough.” She pushed against Reese’s chest. “Help me stand up. I’m not sure I can walk.”
“What—”
“I want to make love to you. Inside. On a bed.”
“Oh. Well.” Reese stood and guided Tory up into her arms. She pulled a blanket from the neighboring chaise and draped it around Tory’s shoulders. “I’ll carry the wine.”
*
“Tory, Tory. stop,” Reese groaned. She tried to roll onto her side, but Tory held her firmly in place. “I’m done, baby.”
“That’s what you said the last time. And the time before that.” With a smug smile, Tory caught Reese’s clitoris between her teeth and tugged gently. When it hardened instantly, she sucked slowly.
Reese’s hips jerked and she tightened her fist in Tory’s hair, pulling her more tightly to her center. She couldn’t tell where she ended and Tory began, where her heartbeat stopped and Tory’s took over. She only knew she wanted, needed, never to leave this place. This sanctuary she had found, this bright shining focus of all that mattered in her life. “Tory,” she breathed as she slipped into orgasm, surrendering with total trust.
Tory felt the change in her breathing first, beneath her hand where it lay between Reese’s breasts. There was a subtle shift in the cadence, signaling not pleasure, but pain. She lifted her eyes to Reese’s face and gasped when she saw tears. Reese so very rarely cried.
“Sweetheart,” Tory exclaimed, crawling quickly up the bed and gathering Reese into her arms. She kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her mouth. “What is it? What is it?”
“Nothing.” Reese managed to keep her voice steady though her throat threatened to close around more tears. “Just love you. So much.”
Tory pulled a sheet over them and pillowed Reese’s head against her breast. “I love you too. With all my heart.”
Reese closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come. She wanted these moments, these impossibly perfect moments when they were as close as they could ever be, to remain untarnished by what was to come. No matter where she was, she would never be far from this moment when Tory filled her heart and her body. Filled her until there was no room for fear or sadness.
*
Tory awakened from a sound sleep with the sense that something was terribly wrong. She sat up quickly and felt for Reese beside her. The bed was empty. She threw back the covers, pulled her robe from the back of the bedroom door, and put it on as she hurried down the hallway toward the stairs. She stopped when she realized a light was burning in Reggie’s room. She pushed the door open and looked in to see Reese, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and sitting alone in the rocking chair they used to coax Reggie back to sleep in the middle of the night.
“It’s time for you to tell me what’s wrong,” Tory said gently. She wrapped her arms around herself, beneath her breasts, as if that could keep the bitter chill from stealing into her heart. She leaned against the door and watched an agony of emotion play across Reese’s handsome face. “Now. I can’t stand waiting, knowing you’re hurting so much.”
Reese looked into Tory’s eyes, hers filled with apology. “My father called tonight.”
Tory’s grip tightened on the material of her robe until her fingers were white.
“My unit has been activated. I’m sorry, baby. I have to go.”
“When?” Tory whispered.
Reese glanced at her watch. It was 4 a.m. Friday morning. She should have been on her way.
“This time tomorrow.”
Twenty-four hours. Tory blinked, fighting the dizziness that threatened to take her to her knees. “Oh my God.”
“I’m so sorry, Tor,” Reese murmured. “I—”
Tory held up her hand. “Hush. Come back to bed.”
Wordlessly Reese rose and took Tory’s hand, following her back to the bedroom. She stood by the side of the bed as Tory sat on the edge and unsnapped her jeans. She lifted her T-shirt over her head while Tory skimmed her pants down to the floor. When she was naked, she slid beneath the sheets and opened her arms to Tory. She held Tory, and Tory held her, arms and legs entwined.
“Thank you for tonight,” Tory whispered. “For loving me that way. Thank you for knowing I’d need it.”
“I needed it too.”
Tory kissed Reese’s throat, then the corner of her mouth, then her lips. Tenderly, with infinite care. “I know. But somehow, when you need, you give. I’ve never known anyone so unselfish.”
Reese laughed bitterly. “I’m leaving you and the baby. And you can still say that?”
Tory leaned away, her eyes dark with sorrow as she searched Reese’s face. “There are so many things I love about you. Your honesty, your bravery. Your tenderness. Maybe most of all, I love that I can always trust you to keep your promises.” She pressed her fingers to Reese’s mouth when Reese would have protested. Gently. Every touch was precious and she wanted each one to stay in her memory forever. “We’ve talked about this before, and we both knew what you would do if this happened. You made promises a long time ago, before you made them to us.”
“If I’d known—”
“Maybe it would have been different. Maybe.” Tory drew a shaky breath. It felt like she was breathing crushed glass. Everything inside of her was ripping apart. “But you made a pledge, gave your word. I knew who you were when I fell in love with you.”
“You didn’t bargain on this,” Reese pointed out. She’d do anything in her power to keep Tory and Reggie from being hurt. Do anything, give anything, including her life. And now she was causing Tory pain, and knowing that was torture.
“Reese, my darling,” Tory said quietly, cleaving to Reese along every inch of their bodies, “every day when you leave this house to go to work, I know the risk. I know what I might lose. I knew that when I watched you put yourself between that man trapped out on the jetty and hundreds of pounds of rock. And when you were shot saving a fellow officer—God, when you almost died saving me. I knew and I chose loving you because nothing in my life has ever been as good as being with you.”
“I love you so much, Tor.” Reese framed Tory’s face and kissed her, first softly, just a hint of heat skirting over her lips, then a stroke of her tongue, then the weight of her mouth, claiming her. Tory’s arms came around her, and they reached inside one another until they were breathless. Reese rolled onto her back and drew Tory against her chest. She stroked Tory’s hair, listened to Tory’s soft breathing, and felt their hearts beating close together. “I was going to tell you in the morning.”
“I know.” Tory smoothed her hand over Reese’s chest and down her abdomen, drawing one leg up over Reese’s thighs to keep them connected. “You didn’t want me to be sa
d when we were making love.”
“No.”
“Were you?”
“Just a little. Once or twice.” Reese stroked Tory’s back, circling her fingers along her spine and into the hollow above her hips. Her body was warm, soft and pliant, with strength and resiliency below the surface. Just like Tory herself. “When I’m making love with you there’s nothing in my mind except you. Tonight…I just needed to have you, all of you…” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed. “To take with me.”
Tory pushed up on her elbow and looked into Reese’s eyes. “You are never going anywhere without me.” She kissed Reese’s chest where a pulse beat steadily. “Here. In your heart. No matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, I’ll be here. Right here. Because I will love you through anything, no matter what.”
“I’m counting on it,” Reese said hoarsely.
“Good,” Tory said. “You can.” She kissed her again, then settled back against Reese’s shoulder, one arm around her chest. She held her close. “Now close your eyes. You need some sleep.”
Reese was certain she couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to spend a moment unaware when she could be with Tory or Reggie. But as the heat of Tory’s body, and the soft caress of her hands, and the gentle cadence of her breathing permeated her consciousness, she drifted off.
Tory felt Reese slip into sleep. She wouldn’t cry, not just for fear of waking her, but for fear of hurting her. She would keep her own anger and sorrow and terror buried, and she would let Reese go believing that she was not dying inside. That would be her gift.
Chapter Six
Carter lay awake, eyes tightly closed against the brilliant sunshine that insisted on brightening her bedroom, and tried to place the unfamiliar sounds. After a second she sorted it out—seagulls and the distant low of the foghorn off Long Point. She’d slept with the windows open and the air was chilly, but she didn’t mind. The brisk breeze might help chase away the cobwebs left over from one too many beers the night before. She rarely drank more than two these days, but somehow the number had morphed to four when she hadn’t been looking.
She opened her eyes, wondering just what caused the gritty sandpapery sensation when she blinked. Which she did, several times, as her mind drifted back to the previous night. She could blame the beer on not enough to do. Inactivity always made her edgy. She’d taken to undercover work immediately because the adrenaline rush that came from the danger of living or dying by her wits kept her mind occupied and her body satisfied, just like good sex. She grimaced, aware that if she wasn’t in the field, involved in some action, she didn’t have much else in her life except sex. And she was running on empty there.
But this time, the case was preying on her mind, and that was odd. It wasn’t the potential danger that concerned her—she’d been in situations before where, if her true identity had become known, she’d have been a target for extermination. No, it wasn’t the case itself, it was the subject. The woman. Reluctantly she admitted that her brief and unplanned encounter with Rica had been unsettling. In those few moments when Rica hadn’t known she was being observed, she had revealed a hint of weariness and vulnerability that was never obvious in her public persona. Quite unexpectedly, Carter had seen a woman, not a mobster’s daughter, and the image lingered even weeks later.
“So what?” Carter muttered, throwing off the sheet and rising rapidly despite the protest pounding in her head. “She’s still the target. Just the target.”
After a shower dispelled the last of her fuzziness, she dug an old pair of gray chinos out of her suitcase, pulled on a washed-out Red Sox T-shirt, and headed out into the disgustingly gorgeous spring morning. At 7:30 a.m., the streets were still fairly empty. A rollerblader passed her heading west down Commercial Street at literally breakneck speed, the usual bevy of workmen in pickup trucks were clustered around the Coffee Pot Café on MacMillan Wharf, and a few preseason tourists ambled along, peering into the still-closed shop windows.
Carter turned east on Commercial without any conscious plan, until, fifteen minutes later, she was leaning against the corner of a building opposite Rica’s new art gallery. To her surprise, she detected shadowy movement through the large plate glass window. She checked the cars parked up the street and saw Rica’s Lexus.
“You’re working early,” Carter mused, grateful there weren’t many people around to see her talking to herself. She hadn’t yet worked out exactly how she was going to reintroduce herself to her target after the premature meeting at Alfonse Pareto’s birthday celebration. No matter how she devised it, Rica was likely to be suspicious. “Well, there’s no time like the present.”
Not one to dwell on a decision made, Carter retraced her steps until she reached the Wired Puppy, one of the specialty coffeehouses in town. She ordered two double espressos and scones. Five minutes later, she tapped on the door of Beaux Arts. At first, she thought her knock would go unanswered, but thirty seconds later Rica came into view. The don’s daughter stopped just on the opposite side of the closed door and frowned at Carter through the glass. Then she shook her head and tapped her watch, as if suggesting that Carter come back later.
Carter held the cardboard carrier containing the coffee and pastries aloft and mouthed the words, “Breakfast.”
“You just happened to be in the neighborhood?” Rica said when she opened the door, holding it ajar with her arm and blocking the entrance to the main gallery.
“Actually, yes. Are you ready for your second espresso?”
“What makes you think I’ve had a first?”
“The sign on your door says the gallery opens at eleven, but it’s not even eight o’clock.” Carter shrugged. “So you’re working at the crack of dawn, and who does that without coffee?”
Rica narrowed her eyes, taking in Carter’s casual clothes and just-showered look. Obviously, she was staying in town. And just as obviously, she hadn’t stumbled on Rica by accident. “Well, I suppose you’re a better choice than Johnny T.”
Carter, through years of practice, hid her surprise despite the spurt of adrenaline that coursed through her. Johnny T. was one of Alfonse Pareto’s musclemen. The fact that Rica referred to him so casually in Carter’s presence was a first step toward trusting her. She made a decision. In her undercover persona as a friend of the “family,” she would be expected to know Johnny T.
“I’m glad you think so. Johnny’s a nice guy, but he lacks for a bit of polish.”
“I don’t need you here. I told my father that.”
Carter tried to decode that information while hoping she looked as if she knew what Rica was talking about. Obviously Rica was not pleased to see her and assumed that she was performing some duty for Rica’s father. She couldn’t imagine— Oh, Christ. She thinks I’ve been sent here to check up on her. A female version of Johnny T. That’s not likely to get me into her good graces.
There were times when the truth was the best approach.
“I’m not working for your father.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that you would tell me if you were?”
“Look, Ms. Pareto—”
“Grechi. It’s Grechi here.”
“Ms. Grechi,” Carter said, extending the package in her hands. “Can we talk about this inside over coffee and scones?”
Rica wanted to say no. She hated being manipulated by her father, and the fact that he had sent an attractive woman when she had turned down his offer of Johnny T. infuriated her. As if a woman bodyguard, or spy, or whatever function Carter might be performing would be more acceptable just because Rica might find her attractive. Her father steadfastly refused to acknowledge her lesbianism, until it suited him. Then, when he thought it might get him what he wanted, he tried to use it to his advantage. So what if Carter Wayne was a charming, gorgeous woman—that was supposed to make her accept being spied on?
“I’m sorry. I really am quite busy. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Rica swung the door closed.
Carter could have bl
ocked the door with her knee or shoulder, but she knew that would only prove to Rica exactly what she already suspected—that Carter was there to strong-arm her into doing something she didn’t want. So instead, she said quickly as the door closed in her face, “He didn’t send me. I swear.”
Through the glass, Rica studied Carter’s face. Her eyes were intense, unwavering. Surprisingly, they were completely unguarded, and Rica almost believed she saw truth in them. Even though she knew better, she found herself opening the door. “My first cup of coffee wasn’t espresso, and it was three hours ago. Come inside.”
“Thanks.”
Carter followed Rica through the surprisingly spacious and impressively well-stocked main gallery to a small office in the rear. That room opened through a set of sliding glass doors onto a ground deck that sat right on the beach. Rica guided her to a small, round gray granite-topped table and matching sling back chairs.
“Whoa,” Carter exclaimed as she sat down. “How did you manage to score this place?”
Rica removed the top from her espresso and sipped it appreciatively. “Good timing.”
Carter handed her a scone. “I thought I got lucky getting a single on Bradford.”
“You bought a house?” Rica said with surprise.
“Office-apartment combination,” Carter replied. She bit into the scone and brushed crumbs from her pants. “Nothing to compare to this, though.”
Carter was serious. Fifty feet away the water shimmered, a perfect mirror for the perfect clouds in the perfect blue sky. The vista was so beautiful it hurt to look at it, and she was finally awake enough to appreciate it. What made the picture memorable, though, was the sunlight glinting on the loose, midnight black waves framing Rica’s face. When the wind caught them and whipped them about her cheeks and neck, Carter had the sudden image of Rica in the throes of passion, her head flung back—