London

by Patricia Evans Jordan

  “Well,” Jaq said, raising her arms and putting them behind her head, “I know what the hell I’m doing now, for starters.”

  “What, you were just guessing back then?”

  “I knew I wanted you like I’d never wanted anything in my life,” Jaq said, “But no, I had no idea what I was doing.”

  “Well,” Bronwyn said, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Then you’re a good guesser.”

  “Now look who’s easily impressed.” Jaq smiled, catching Bronwyn’s hand and holding it when she started tracing the button on Jaq’s jeans with her finger.

  Bronwyn looked at Jaq’s hand covering hers and arched an eyebrow.

  “I can only take so much, Bella,” Jaq said, her eyes intense as she brought Bronwyn’s hand to her mouth, her breath warm against her palm, “And it’s getting harder not to touch you.”

  ****

  Later, the seagulls soared overhead as they sat on the edge of the pier at the very end, each holding a portion of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, complete with a tiny wooden fork. The water shimmered with the last of the afternoon sun, and the waves crashing beneath them drowned out everyone’s voices but theirs.

  “Can I ask you something?” Bronwyn squinted into the sun and pulled her jacket tighter around her. The wind was sweeping into shore over the water, and even with the golden autumn sun, it had a bite to it.

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve always wondered this, “ Bronwyn said, “But now that you’re here and I can ask you, I’m not sure I want to know the answer.”

  “So what is it?” Jaq said, looking over at her. Bronwyn watched the wind running its fingers through Jaq’s hair, standing it on end. Jaq’s eyes were intense, dark, and locked onto hers.

  Bronwyn crumpled up her newspaper cone and set it beside her on the pier. “Why did you never write me back after Mum took me out of school? I wrote you every day until the term ended, but you never responded.” Her eyes started to burn with ancient tears, and she paused. “Did you even open them?”

  “What? I wrote you every day too.” Jaq just looked at her for a moment, confused. “I never got one letter from you, I swear.”

  Bronwyn looked up and Jaq wiped a tear from her cheek with her thumb.

  “That’s why I never came to find you after school. I thought maybe your mother had finally convinced you I wasn’t good enough for you.”

  Bronwyn stood and tried to put the pieces together so they made sense. “How is that possible? I wrote you every single night and posted it the next day.”

  Jaq stood too, tossing her paper cone into the trash. “I swear I never got them. Not one.”

  “Wait,” Bronwyn said slowly, “Wasn’t the girl’s dean the one who always passed out the mail in the dorm?”

  Jaq nodded, the pieces beginning to come together. “And all the outgoing post was dropped off with her secretary at the front desk.”

  They looked at each other for a moment before Bronwyn spoke. “Either it was her idea or my mum convinced her to do it, but someone intercepted our mail.”

  The wind picked up suddenly and blew Bronwyn’s hair around them like a curtain. Jaq held her face gently and kissed her, pulling every inch of Bronwyn’s body against hers. She kissed her like love, like forever, like she’d thought about doing every day since she’d forced herself to walk away.

  Chapter Five

  Bronwyn,” Jaq said, still kissing her, hands slipping under Bronwyn’s jacket, then under her shirt to the warm, bare skin of her waist, “We’ve got to get off this pier before we get arrested.”

  Bronwyn laughed, the wind whipping around them, and nodded. “That might be a good idea.”

  Jaq led her back down the pier. The lights of Blackpool were beginning to sparkle, and seagulls glided above, chattering and swooping above the crowds. The Promenade, the busy main street that separated the sea from the town, was already packed with bank holiday visitors, and bar and pub patrons spilled out of doors to sit at tiny bistro tables set up outside. As they started up the winding hill to where they were staying, Jaq stopped at the shop on the corner to buy a bottle of wine. As she stood at the counter, she watched Bronwyn standing just outside, the last of the evening sun reflecting off the Irish Sea. She ran her fingers through the dark layers of her hair, the light filtering through them like a flash of gold under water.

  “That’s twenty-nine pounds, seventeen pence, please, sir.”

  The shopkeeper’s voice broke the spell, and Jaq pulled out her wallet.

  “Of course, thank you,” she said, handing the woman her card and turning once more to look at Bronwyn.

  ****

  After they’d gotten inside the church, Bronwyn opened the wine and poured them each a glass, then she took it over to the hearth where Jaq was trying to sweet talk the fire. She was staring at the rapidly dying flames she’d managed to coax briefly into existence, only to see them disappear into ash right in front of her.

  “I don’t know why, but I’ve never been able to build a decent fire.” She sighed and balled up several pages of the London Times beside her on the hearth to start again. “You should definitely avoid being lost in some massive English forest with me at any point in the future because we’d be shit out of luck.”

  Bronwyn smiled and handed her a wineglass. Jaq looked up at her as she settled in on the couch. “Listen, I know this is all sudden; you’re with someone else now.” Jaq broke kindling into smaller pieces and stacked it in a haphazard grid across the iron fireplace grate. “I know it can’t go past the weekend.”

  Bronwyn took a sip of her wine, wrapping the glass in her hands and tilting it, so the light filtering through the stained glass windows sifted silently through the garnet layers.

  “I think I started dating him because I couldn’t take having my heart broken again.”

  She took a sip of the wine and set it on the coffee table, pulling her legs up underneath her on the couch. Since the fire was unsurprisingly oblivious to her charms, Jaq gave up and sat on the hearth, listening.

  “I just told myself I was better off avoiding the whole love issue and just settling down. He grew on me, I guess.”

  “And now?”

  Suddenly the reluctant tinder caught fire and quickly took over the logs, engulfing them in blue heat and flashes of gold.

  Bronwyn smiled, raising her eyebrow in the direction of the flames. “Now it’s complicated.”

  Jaq walked over to the couch and sat, as Bronwyn laid back and rested her head on her leg.

  “So what about you?” she said. “Breaking any hearts at Scotland Yard?”

  “Well, after that thing I had this summer with Victoria…”

  “What?” Bronwyn propped herself up on one elbow and looked at Jaq. “I’m going to assume you’re joking. She’s got a face like a smacked ass.”

  “Easy now,” Jaq said, laughing. “I’ve dated, but I’ve been so busy since I came back I haven’t even thought about asking anyone out.”

  “I have a hard time believing that you can walk around looking like you do and not turn any heads at Scotland Yard,” Bronwyn said, settling her eyes on Jaq’s mouth. “I’d be willing to bet there are more than a few lesbians at London headquarters.”

  “True,” Jaq said, slipping her hand under Bronwyn’s sweater and across the soft skin of her stomach. “But I think you’re more their type than I am, to say the least.”

  She glanced up at Jaq. “So what is your type?”

  Jaq studied her face for a moment. “Girls with eyes like the forest and a bit of an edge to them.” Jaq smiled, her eyes settled on Bronwyn’s mouth. “You’ve always been braver than people give you credit for.”

  “I have to admit,” Bronwyn said, “Before this weekend, I would have assumed you’d be more likely to go for a perfect Essex blonde in a tight skirt and stockings.”

  “God, no,” Jaq said. “I like a smart girl in glasses who can pull off a suit with nothing underneath it.”

  Jaq
tilted the last of the wine in her glass and looked into the fire. The wind rushed around the outside corners of the church and scraped against the windows. The rain that had started as they were walking back from the beach pelted the roof with a dense, staccato urgency. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, as if she was holding the memory in her hand, slowly studying the shape of it.

  “When you stepped up to me last night and unbuttoned your jacket,” she paused, her eyes still on the fire, “It was the most turned on I’ve been in my entire life.”

  Bronwyn paused for a moment, then moved onto Jaq’s lap, facing her. Jaq leaned her forehead into her chest, breathing her in before she lifted her sweater over her head, letting it fall onto the couch, Bronwyn’s thighs tensing against hers. She ran her hands under the silk camisole she’d found under the sweater, letting it slip through her fingers like water as she dropped it to the floor too, leaving Bronwyn bare to the waist. The raw denim of her jeans was a rough contrast to her skin, and Jaq drank her in, then slid her hands from Bronwyn’s hips to her ass, pulling her close.

  Bronwyn’s body had always been lean and sculpted, but there was a soft fullness to her breasts now, her nipples a caramel pink that Jaq longed to watch flush and harden, then tremble as an orgasm swept through her body. She traced the outside curve of Bronwyn’s breast with her tongue, feeling her breath catch and hold as she got nearer to the center. She stopped and laid her hand over Bronwyn’s heart, the warmth of her palm soft over the center of her chest.

  “Take a breath, baby,” she whispered.

  Bronwyn closed her eyes and breathed, her heart racing under Jaq’s hand. Jaq looked into her eyes when she finally opened them, her words soft. “We don’t have to do this.”

  Bronwyn shook her head, her hair falling over her shoulder and around her face. “I want it. It’s just surreal.”

  Jaq slid her hand gently across the back of Bronwyn’s neck and pulled her close until she felt the warmth of her breath. Jaq bit her bottom lip softly then tipped her chin up, keeping it there with her thumb while she ran her tongue down her neck and between her breasts. She paused over Bronwyn’s nipple, her breath warm and still on her skin. She circled it with her tongue, stopping just short of pulling it into her mouth. She knew how sensitive her nipples were; she’d watched Bronwyn have her first orgasm in her bed the night she’d touched them the first time.

  “Jaq,” Bronwyn whispered, “please.”

  Jaq held her hand against the small of Bronwyn’s back to steady her, then just touched her mouth to Bronwyn’s nipple, so lightly it was more breath than skin. She held Bronwyn’s eyes as she drew it into her mouth, stroking it with her tongue. Bronwyn took a sharp breath, tightening her hands on Jaq’s shoulders. Her breath deepened, and she raked her fingers through her hair. Jaq leaned back and ran the back of her hands over both of her nipples, the texture a rough contrast to the slick warmth of her mouth, using just enough pressure to catch and turn them slightly as she moved her hands across them.

  “Oh my God,” Bronwyn said, the words soft and lost in breath.

  Jaq turned one hand over and worked that nipple with her fingers, then pulled the other hard into the heat of her mouth. Bronwyn shuddered, her breathing quick and shallow, her hips moving against Jaq’s. Her fingers tangled hard into Jaq’s hair as Jaq worked Bronwyn’s nipple with her tongue, creating almost enough intensity to push her over the edge. Almost.

  Finally, she stood, Bronwyn’s legs around her waist, and walked over to lay her down on the bed. Dusk had turned to dark, the fire the only light in the room, close enough to paint shadows onto Bronwyn’s skin. Jaq leaned down to kiss her, standing as she trailed a fingertip down to the button of Bronwyn’s jeans.

  “Don’t move.”

  Jaq pulled a zippo out of her pocket while she walked away and lit the ivory candles dotted around the room, then placed each on the windowsill under the tall stained glass panes; the flames cast shapeshifting shadows onto the rough stone walls beside them as Bronwyn watched from the bed. Jaq looked thoughtful, unbuttoning her shirt as she walked, then laid it on the back of the sofa before she picked up their wine glasses. There was something rough about Jaq if you didn’t know her: the definition in her arms and broad shoulders, her husky voice like the scrape of gravel and her steadfast tendency toward silence. But Bronwyn did know her. Knew the way her eyes fell when she thought, and the gentleness of her hands as she touched her, as if she was made of the thinnest sheets of glass, fingertips moving like seawater over her skin.

  She handed Bronwyn her wineglass and sat back against the headboard, made from the inner panel of an old confessional. Both of them wore only jeans, the angles and softness of their bodies more contrast than reflection. The wine shimmered with the undulating light of the candles on every side of them, and Jaq ran her hand through her hair, leaning back, her eyes moving slowly over Bronwyn’s body. The storm blue of them had deepened, like pools of dark water on a cobblestone alley.

  Bronwyn moved toward her and Jaq’s hands wrapped strong around her back as she laid her down on the bed underneath her. Bronwyn felt her breath, then the barest scrape of her teeth across her shoulder as Jaq brought both of her hands above her head and held them with one of hers. She lowered her mouth to the curve of her breast, just brushing it with her lips, then moved down to the sensitive skin just above the button of her jeans. Her touch was warm and insistent, and she held Bronwyn’s eyes as she unfastened each button, then followed her fingertips with her tongue. After the last button, she paused, then sat back and watched Bronwyn slide the jeans down her hips and push them off the edge of the bed.

  Bronwyn closed her eyes as she raised her hips to let Jaq slip her panties off, then listened to her take off her own clothes and drop them to the floor. After what felt like forever, Jaq’s hands moved slowly down the inside of her thighs, but she stopped after just a few seconds. Bronwyn didn’t realize she was trembling until Jaq already had her arms around her, leaning back into the headboard and pulling Bronwyn close.

  She whispered into her ear, her hand stroking Bronwyn’s hair. “I don’t want this unless you do.”

  Bronwyn shook her head. “I do,” she said, her cheek warm against Jaq’s bare chest. “It’s just…intense.” Bronwyn paused, unsure of how to describe it. “You were the last girl I was ever with. I missed you so much I made myself forget how it feels.”

  “I know,” Jaq said, her thumb tracing the outline of Bronwyn’s lip. Bronwyn felt the rise and fall of her breath several times before she answered.

  “I did the same thing with my heart.”

  Jaq turned Bronwyn’s face toward hers and looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, then held her face as she kissed her, sinking down onto the length of her body and pulling Bronwyn’s knee up beside her. She ran her tongue over the base of her neck and across Bronwyn’s shoulders, stopping every few seconds to return to her mouth, as if it was the only way she could draw a breath. Bronwyn closed her eyes, soft moans replacing words, her fingers tightening on Jaq’s shoulders. Jaq’s hand moved down between their bodies as she slid her mouth down to bite the soft skin between Bronwyn’s breasts, circling her nipples, then drawing them deep into her mouth, feeling them tighten against her tongue. Bronwyn’s hips pressed harder against Jaq, her breath raw.

  She found Jaq’s wrist and pulled it close, then held her breath as she felt Jaq’s fingertips slide across her clit. Then time stopped as Jaq’s fingers slid slowly into the liquid heat of her body. Bronwyn arched, her breath deep and quick. Jaq’s knee held Bronwyn’s thighs open as she moved her fingers inside her while sliding the slick heel of her hand gently over the tight bud of her clit.

  “You’re so wet,” Jaq whispered, bringing her fingers to her mouth. Bronwyn watched as she drew them into her mouth, then slid them slowly back inside her.

  Bronwyn arched as Jaq slowly stroked both inside her and across her clit. Just as her orgasm threatened to spill over the edge, Jaq pause
d, holding her eyes as she slid deeper inside. Bronwyn’s walls tightened around her fingers. Jaq’s other hand held Bronwyn lightly against the bed at the base of her neck as her eyes swept across Bronwyn’s body; an uneven flush had bloomed across her chest, and her breath was sharp and ragged, as if she’d been underwater too long and just broken the surface. She closed her eyes, begging with her breath, desperate to feel more of Jaq inside her.

  As her climax started, she fell silent, then arched her back harder and moaned deep, hands tangled in her hair, her hips meeting every thrust of Jaq’s hand. Each wave of her orgasm was stronger than the last until she tightened her thighs around Jaq’s wrist, breathless and hoarse.

  “Jaq, I can’t,” she said, “I can’t take any more.”

  Jaq stilled her hand until Bronwyn started to relax, then moved up her body and pulled her into her arms.

  “Bella,” she said, her voice a rough whisper, hands smoothing her hair away from her damp forehead. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

  “God no,” Bronwyn said, finally catching her breath somewhat and looking up at Jaq. “I just forgot. I forgot how you make me feel.”

  Jaq brought the duvet around their bodies and held Bronwyn in her arms, her face soft against Jaq’s chest, her breathing slow and deep as she fell into a dark sleep. Someday she’d tell her that for the first time in her entire life, she knew what it felt like to be home.

  Chapter Six

  When Bronwyn woke the next morning, vivid images of the night before washed over her. Jaq Bailey undressing her, watching her mouth slide down the inside of her thigh, feeling her deep inside as she came so hard she forgot to breathe. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but as the sun streamed in through the stained glass windows, Jaq was already gone, her side of the bed cold to the touch.

  The enormity of it all started to settle like an anchor onto her chest, and she pulled the sheet back up around her as she stared at the belfry above the bed. Ian would be livid by now. She’d stopped answering her phone before the wedding, so the fact he hadn’t been able to reach her since then would have driven him insane by now. Being so at ease with Jaq, not having to watch every word that came out of her mouth, feeling safe in her arms…everything reminded her of how tense things had gotten with Ian since the engagement. She couldn’t imagine kissing him, telling him some massive lie about where she’d been since the wedding, then going back to her wedding plans as if nothing in her life had changed. But she would. She had to. The last few days with Jaq already felt like a dream, but she wasn’t a kid anymore. Real life was complicated, and she’d already made her choices.