by Radclyffe
“Oh, Quinn,” Honor breathed, touched and grateful. “I know this afternoon has been difficult, but I hope you consider me a friend.”
“I do.” Even as Quinn said it, meaning it, she also knew that her feelings for Honor were already much more than that. “But—”
“No,” Honor said quickly, assaulted by so many conflicting emotions that she felt almost dizzy. “Let’s just let that be enough. Please.”
Quinn heard the tremor in Honor’s voice, and even as disappointment settled like a stone in her depths, she nodded. “Of course.”
“Phyllis and Arly will be delighted with your company.” Honor squeezed Quinn’s hand and gently withdrew her fingers. Then she took a deep breath and smiled tremulously. “So will I.”
Quinn followed Honor through the back door into the cozy kitchen and stopped just over the threshold, feeling suddenly awkward. Arly perched on a stool by the kitchen table, deftly manipulating a Game Boy, a glass of milk by her side. Phyllis was in the midst of making a salad, and the counter next to the sink where she stood was covered with vegetables in various stages of preparation. The scene harkened back to a time that Quinn had long forgotten, a time of lazy summer afternoons and family dinners. The last twelve years of her life had been a nonstop climb to professional accomplishment, with almost no time for anything personal. She hadn’t even been aware that anything was missing until everything had come to a screeching halt a few months before, and when she had looked around, she’d realized that she was alone in a life that was empty except for her work. If it hadn’t been for Sax and Jude’s friendship, she wasn’t sure she would have made it. I don’t belong here, in Honor’s home, in Honor’s life. What was I thinking?
“Quinn!” Arly hopped down and came running, stopping an inch away to stare wide-eyed at Quinn’s shoulder and the blue sling with its Velcro straps and buckles. “Wow. What is that? Does it hurt? How long do you have to wear it? Does this mean you won’t be able to coach soccer?”
Laughing, Quinn felt her discomfort dissipate a little. “It’s called an immobilizer, and I only need it for a couple of days. No, it doesn’t hurt much, and it sure isn’t going to keep me from coaching.”
“That’s good!” Arly turned to Honor. “How did you fix Quinn’s shoulder, Mom?”
“Find me your Color Anatomy! book, and I’ll show you.”
“Oh, cool. I’ll be right back,” Arly called to the room in general and ran off.
“Is that her normal speed?” Quinn chuckled.
“She has two speeds,” Honor explained affectionately. “Fast and faster.”
Phyllis regarded Quinn intently. Her color was ashen, and there were shadows beneath her eyes that hadn’t been there only hours before. “How are you feeling, Quinn?”
“Just a little sore,” Quinn assured her.
“Uh-huh.” Phyllis pointed to a chair. “Sit down. You’re staying for dinner, I hope?”
“Actually,” Honor interjected, “Quinn is staying with us for a day or so.”
A day or so? Quinn’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
Honor continued smoothly, “That shoulder immobilizer makes it a little hard for her to manage things alone, and I thought it would be easier for her here.”
“That’s sensible,” Phyllis agreed, aware of something unspoken passing between the two younger women, yet accepting the explanation at face value for the moment. Clearly Quinn did need some help; she looked like she was about to fall down. “Dinner won’t be for at least an hour or so. Quinn, maybe you’d like to lie down for awhile?”
“I’m not really worth much with just one arm,” Quinn said, “but I could still probably help you get dinner ready.”
Phyllis laughed. “Thank you, but I enjoy doing it. It makes me feel useful.”
Honor gave her a quick hug. “Useful doesn’t even come close. You know we couldn’t manage without you.”
“Take Quinn upstairs, Honor,” Phyllis directed. “Something tells me that shoulder is hurting a little bit more than she wants to let on.”
Quinn blushed. “I can see that I have no secrets from you.”
“I’ve had some practice over the years with bumps and bruises and tough girls who pretend they don’t hurt,” Phyllis said, regarding Honor affectionately.
At that moment, Arly skidded back into the kitchen, extending the coloring book with its anatomic images. “Here it is. Show me what you did to Quinn.”
“I will, honey, in just a minute. I’m going to take Quinn upstairs first so she can have a nap.”
“Maybe she can come up with us and bring the book along?” Quinn asked carefully, mindful of Honor’s authority. “I want to see this, too.”
“You win.” Laughing, Honor threw up her hands. “Let’s go, you two.”
A minute later, Honor opened the door to the guest room on the second floor and motioned Quinn in. “The bathroom is just down the hall to your right. I’ll put some fresh towels and sundries out for you. The phone is by the bed over there, in case you want to make a call.”
Quinn looked around the warm, comfortably furnished room, feeling instantly at home. It had the kind of personal touches that her apartment lacked—small area rugs on the hardwood floors, bright curtains adorning the windows, and walls and furnishings in soothing earth tones. She was tired and sore and the double bed with the patterned comforter looked enormously appealing. “This is wonderful.” She looked at Honor, wishing she could tell her how much it meant to her to be there. Huskily, she said, “Thank you.”
“No need,” Honor replied, her throat tight. Quinn’s eyes were smudged with pain, and Honor had the sudden urge to take Quinn by the hand, lead her to the bed, and lie down with her. She wanted to cradle Quinn close and hold her while she slept. The desire was so powerful, she ached. “Why don’t you stretch out for a while, and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
“I think I will, in a minute.” Quinn sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her. “Come on, Arly. Sit here. Then Mom can show us what she did.”
Honor sat down, too, with Arly between them. She reached for the coloring book, found a drawing of the human skeleton, and, while Arly watched with rapt attention, pointed out the various structures around the shoulder. Then, in simple terms, she explained what had happened when Quinn had fallen. “So, in order to fix it, you have to move the bones so they fit back together again.”
Arly looked up at Quinn with a serious expression. “Did it hurt?”
“It hurt when I dislocated it,” Quinn explained. “But it felt much better as soon as your mom put everything back where it belonged.”
“So you’ll be all right now, right?”
Quinn nodded. “In a few days, I’ll be back to normal.” She looked at Honor over Arly’s head, smiling ruefully. “Just like nothing happened.”
Honor, her eyes tinged with sadness, held Quinn’s gaze. Never had she wanted to ease someone’s hurt as much as in that moment. Knowing that she had contributed to Quinn’s unhappiness made it all the worse. She cleared her throat and said softly, “We should let Quinn rest now, honey. Maybe you can go see if Grandmom needs some help with dinner.”
“Can I stay here with Quinn? I could read to her like you do when I’m sick.”
“Maybe later,” Honor said gently. “Now scoot.”
“Okay.” Arly looked hopefully at Quinn. “I’ll see you later, right?”
“You bet.”
Quinn smiled as Arly jumped down and hurried away. “She’s something.”
“Yes.” Honor laughed fondly. “You’re very good with her.”
“I’m winging it,” Quinn admitted with a grin. “Not much practice with kids.”
“Like I said earlier, you have very good instincts.”
Quinn met Honor’s eyes. “You think?”
“I do.” You are such a wonderful combination of everything I admire. Fearful that Quinn could somehow read her thoughts, Honor reached down and lifted Quinn’s right foot,
pulling off her sneaker. “You’re about to cave, Quinn. Let’s get you under the covers.”
“I can manage.”
Honor shook her head and picked up the other foot. “Undoubtedly, but it will be easier if I help. You should take your jeans off, too. You’ll be able to sleep more comfortably.”
“Those I can get,” Quinn stated adamantly.
“Of course.” Honor blushed. God, what am I thinking? I can’t undress her. Not when I want to touch her, just...touch her.
“Do you maybe have some aspirin?” Quinn asked quietly, getting to her feet. All I need is for you to put your hands on me. I’ll come apart if you do.
“I’ll get you another pain pill.” Honor averted her gaze as she realized that Quinn was waiting to unzip her jeans and headed hastily for the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
When Honor returned, a glass of water in one hand and a Tylenol with codeine tablet in the other, Quinn was in bed with the covers drawn up to her waist, fast asleep. She had kept her polo shirt on, since it was impossible for her to remove it alone with the shoulder immobilizer in place. With her vibrant blue eyes closed, she seemed defenseless and young. For one fleeting second, Honor envisioned the mechanical device lodged in Quinn’s chest, a silent testament to her vulnerability. Honor hurt, thinking of all that Quinn had lost.
Quietly, she crossed the room and placed the pill and the water on the bedside table. For a long moment, she stood still, watching the slow rise and fall of Quinn’s chest and the restless flutter of her eyelids in sleep. Ever so carefully, she rested her fingertips against Quinn’s cheek. She touched her out of tenderness and caring, but the subtle heat from Quinn’s skin stirred an answering fire that caught her unawares. She had forgotten the wonder of the quick flare of passion when it was least expected. She had never thought to experience that excitement again, and the unmistakable thrum of desire that swelled within her was both exulting and terrifying.
Oh, Quinn. What have you done to me?
Chapter Thirteen
When Quinn awoke, the room was dark. For a moment, she had no idea where she was, and the quick surge of anxiety produced a flutter in her chest. It was the kind of feeling that ordinarily went unnoticed to most, but that for her—even as she recognized Honor’s house and her pulse settled—caused a clenching in the stomach and a ripple of fear. She’d gotten used to the heightened awareness of the beat of her own heart in the weeks since her illness, and for hours at a time, she rarely thought about the defibrillator beneath her skin and the electrical wires implanted in her heart. Were it not for the resurgence of professional problems resulting from Honor learning of her condition, she probably wouldn’t be thinking of it now.
Waiting for the shock that didn’t come, Quinn wondered if there would ever come a time when she would be able to forget that her life was dependent upon a mechanical device. She didn’t even dare imagine a time when the defibrillator might be removed, although in her distant reaches, she hoped.
Needing the defibrillator isn’t so much different than what we all live with every day—depending for our survival upon fragile cells and vulnerable organs that can be damaged or destroyed by accident or disease. It just seems unnatural.
That’s what she told herself, and that’s what she wanted to believe.
She also reminded herself of what her cardiologist and Sax had told her—that there was no reason she couldn’t lead a normal life. But it was difficult to accept that when her chosen career had been derailed and the alternative one was about to be. And now, lying in bed in Honor’s house, she wondered if she could even have a normal relationship. Would it be fair to anyone, but most especially to a woman like Honor who had already lost one lover, to encourage intimacy and attachment when Quinn’s medical condition made her existence so tenuous?
And there was no doubt in her mind that that was what she wanted—a relationship with Honor that went beyond friendship. She’d felt the connection to Honor from the instant they’d met, and every moment they’d been together thereafter had strengthened it. She was drawn to Honor’s strength and certainty as well as to her tender compassion. And there was no denying the desire that simmered whenever she thought of her, and that burst upon her like an inferno in Honor’s presence. The sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the curve of her smile—everything excited Quinn.
Sighing, frustrated by events she could not control and plagued by a physical urgency she could not quench, Quinn thrashed restlessly beneath the sheets. She heard no sound in the house and had lost her usual intrinsic sense of the time, probably as a result of the earlier pain medication. Although she presumed that everyone had gone to bed, Quinn found herself wide awake. And not just wide awake—thinking about Honor had stirred more than her loneliness. She was aroused in a way that she had not been even before her recent illness had overshadowed her sexual urges. In the past, sex had been a pleasant form of recreation and a satisfying outlet for stress. The physical hunger she felt now was an ache that reached to her very soul, and she knew in a place beyond reason that only Honor could assuage the need.
Quinn pushed the sheets aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The immobilizer kept her arm strapped across her midsection, hampering her movements and promising to make undressing a challenge. Nevertheless, at the moment, she desperately needed a shower to divert her from the insistent unrest that beat between her thighs. She could, she supposed, attempt to quiet her physical turmoil by her own hand, but that option held no appeal. Relief that sated her body but not her soul would be empty of pleasure.
She pushed herself upright, searched until she found her jeans folded over a nearby chair, and, with her pants over her free arm, padded barefoot to the door. The hallway beyond, lit dimly by a single sconce at the top of the far stairway, was deserted, and she headed in the direction of the bathroom Honor had pointed out earlier. She’d almost reached it when Honor stepped out of the room directly across the hall.
Silently, they regarded one another in the deep stillness of the sleeping household.
“I thought I heard you,” Honor said quietly. In truth, she’d been lying awake for hours, thinking about Quinn in the room down the hall. Remembering the way she’d looked asleep, and how it had felt to touch her. Knowing that she wanted to touch her again—everywhere. Admitting that she wanted to be touched in return. She hadn’t wanted that since Terry.
“Sorry,” Quinn whispered, trying desperately to read what she saw in Honor’s eyes. Their dark depths were hazy, liquid and warm. She recognized desire, and although her mind might question the rightness of it, her body did not. Her belly fluttered. Distantly, it occurred to her that she was naked except for a shirt and briefs. As if in apology, she lifted the jeans in her hand. “I was going to take a shower.”
Honor’s eyes flickered down Quinn’s body. The bare legs were smooth and strong. The navy shirt stopped just at Quinn’s hips, and a triangle of white nestled between her thighs. Honor wrenched her gaze upward before she could reach out and rest her palm over that soft pale swelling. Her heart thundered madly in her chest, and her legs trembled. Her desire was a wild thing, not rational, not reasoned, but sharp and clear as summer lightning. Scorching and hot and impossible to hold.
“You’ll need some help with that shoulder,” Honor said hoarsely.
“Yes.”
“I could call Phyllis...or I could help you.”
“You.” Quinn couldn’t take her eyes from Honor’s. She doubted that Honor had any idea that her eyes spoke of arid plains long thirsting for rain and the promise of blossoms opening to the kiss of moisture upon their petals.
If I touch her, she won’t tell me to stop. If I touch her, I won’t be able to stop. And if I touch her now, it will be too soon. Because she doesn’t know what’s in her eyes. Her body might welcome me, but not her heart.
Honor’s legs trembled and her hands shook. She didn’t recognize herself; she didn’t recognize what she was feeling. Or she di
d, and was stunned by it. How can I desire her this way? How can I feel that if I don’t have her hands on me, I’ll die from the wanting?
Quinn backed up a step, knowing that if she remained within touching distance, no amount of rationalization would keep her from reaching out and tracing her fingers along the delicate edge of collarbone laid bare by the soft cotton robe that came to Honor’s midthigh.
“If you give me a hand with the buckles and straps, I can handle the rest of it.”
Throat dry, Honor nodded. “Okay. I’ll find you some sweats and leave them on the counter. Then, when you’re ready to get dressed...I’ll give you a hand.”
“Good. That sounds good.” Quinn found the handle behind her, opened the bathroom door, and slipped inside. Honor followed, and now they were even closer within the confines of the small room.
“How do you feel?” Honor asked as she opened the first strap holding Quinn’s arm confined to her chest. Her fingers brushed against the curve of Quinn’s breast under the cotton shirt as she carefully lifted the sling.
Quinn bit her lip, unsuccessfully willing her nipple not to tighten. Apparently, the autonomic nervous system does not respond to mental commands. In another minute, Honor had released the last buckle and Quinn cradled her injured left arm with her right while Honor worked the strap over her neck and eased the supporting material down her shoulder.
“All right?” Honor’s touch was gentle.
“Not bad,” Quinn informed her. She suddenly felt exposed in only her polo shirt and underwear.
Honor looked up, catching Quinn’s eyes on her and liking the quick rush of pleasure at the appreciation she saw in those blue depths. “Your shirt.”
Quinn nodded. “At least we’ve had some practice with that.”
“Mmm. Remind me to bring you something with buttons.” Once again, Honor carefully and efficiently worked the shirt off until Quinn stood naked except for her briefs. Honor didn’t mean to, or maybe she did—she wasn’t certain anymore of what she intended—but her gaze dropped to Quinn’s breasts. They were beautiful—high and firm and rose tipped, the hard nipples blushed dark with desire. Slowly she lifted a hand, her fingers trembling. Oh God, this is a mistake. But she’s so, so lovely.
