by Radclyffe
Honor watched Arly execute an exceptionally flamboyant pass nearly perfectly and thought she could see some of Quinn’s movements in her daughter. The idea warmed her even as she retreated from the evidence of how deeply Quinn was already part of her life.
“I was afraid,” Honor said very softly, “that I would think of Terry when she touched me.”
Linda caught her lower lip between her teeth, stilling the trembling as a wave of sympathy washed through her. There had been times over the last six years when she had wanted nothing more than to take Honor into her arms and rock her like one of her children, to take all of her pain into her own body, because carrying the pain herself would’ve been so much easier than watching Honor break from it. But she couldn’t, of course, and Honor had not broken. She had bent, but she had refused to succumb. Perhaps if she had not had Arly, she would have. Whatever the reason, Linda was grateful for her friend’s strength. She could not have borne losing them both.
“But you didn’t?” Linda asked tenderly, barely able to imagine how difficult that first step must have been for Honor. Or how badly she must have wanted Quinn to risk taking it. “It was...good?”
Honor nodded. “I didn’t think of anything. If I did, I can’t remember.” She turned confused, uncertain eyes to her best friend. “I can’t remember anything except Quinn.”
“I think that’s exactly how it’s supposed to work.” Linda smiled at Honor’s bewilderment before remembering that Honor and Terry had been barely more than children when they’d fallen in lust and then love. Quinn Maguire was no teenager, and Honor was a woman whose passions had lain buried in grief for a very long time. “So, you’re basically okay with it?”
“I haven’t quite figured it out yet.” Honor’s voice was calm. She could think her way through this. That was what she did, that was how she approached life. She gave a small start when Quinn caught her eye from across the field and grinned, sketching a brief wave in her direction. She waved back. “But Quinn isn’t pushing for anything serious, which is good.”
It took all of Linda’s control not to gape in astonishment. Was she the only one who could see what was going on between those two? No, she had a feeling that Quinn Maguire knew exactly what was going on. And she wondered just how long Quinn would be willing to let Honor ignore it. “Uh-huh. Yes. That is good.”
Honor raised an eyebrow at Linda’s odd tone of voice. “What?”
“Nothing.” Linda smiled sweetly. “So, why don’t you and Quinn and Arly come over to the house this afternoon after the game? I’m sure that Quinn and Robin will want to rehash every play. The kids can swim.”
When Honor didn’t answer, Linda followed her gaze and discovered what had put the angry light in Honor’s eyes. Mandy, in her referee’s shirt and tight black jeans, was talking to Quinn on the opposite side of the field, and as Mandy was wont to do whenever she was near a woman between the ages of eighteen and eighty, she had her fingers wrapped around Quinn’s forearm. Linda thought she heard something resembling a growl coming from her friend. “I’m sorry? What did you say?”
“I said,” Honor hissed through her teeth, “if she doesn’t keep her hands off Quinn, one of these days I’m going to tear her arm off and beat her to death with it.”
Linda nearly choked holding back her triumphant laugh. Yep. Just a little unserious roll in the hay.
Sighing with contentment, Quinn, in shorts and a T-shirt, stretched out on a lounge chair next to Robin and cradled a bottle of beer in one hand. “This reminds me of afternoons back home. Shade trees and beer.”
“Where you from?”
“Pittsburgh, more or less.” Quinn smiled faintly, thinking how unlike her existence in Manhattan this simple life was, and how happy she was to be a part of it. “So what do you think, Coach? How’d our team do today?”
Robin sipped her beer and said with feigned seriousness, “Well, we’re not supposed to promote competition, you know.”
“Of course not,” Quinn answered just as gravely. “It’s all in the spirit of cooperation and teamwork, I always say.”
“Right—it’s not the winning that counts...”
They looked at one another and grinned.
“But it’s always nice to win,” they said nearly simultaneously.
Thinking of how much she had enjoyed Honor’s warm smile of welcome at the end of the game and Arly’s excited chatter about all the “neat” passes she’d made, “just like Quinn showed us,” Quinn sighed again. “Yeah, it’s been a very good day.”
“It doesn’t get a whole lot better.”
Nodding in agreement, Quinn idly watched Arly come down the slide head-first into the pool, skim beneath the water for another few yards, and surface like an otter, leaving barely a ripple. “Man, that kid can swim. She should go out for the swim team.”
“She ought to be good. I think Terry had her in the water before she was two months old.” Robin looked quickly at Quinn, unable to read anything in her still expression. “Uh—”
“I guess you knew her pretty well.”
“Yeah.” Acutely uncomfortable, Robin looked around the yard for her spouse, hoping for a rescue. Linda was the one who handled the emotional side of most relationships. Linda could talk to anyone about anything, and she always knew the right thing to say. That worked fine for Robin, because she wasn’t much of a talker. But Quinn was her buddy, and anyone could see the way things were for her with Honor. Plus, not only was there no point in denying what anyone would tell her, she knew Quinn would want to hear it straight. “Everybody liked Terry. She was real solid, and she was nuts about Honor.”
“I kind of got that idea. And it went both ways.” Quinn turned the bottle, damp with condensation, on the arm of the chair, watching the wet circles left by the bottom overlap and eventually blur together. In a voice pensive and low, she said, “Those are pretty big shoes to fill.”
“You’re not thinking of trying to do that, are you?”
Quinn gave her a look, her eyebrow raised in question.
Robin looked back at her steadily. “You’re not Terry, Quinn.”
“No.” Quinn thought about the happiness she felt every time Honor was near, and the longing when they were apart. She remembered the joy of waking beside her that morning. “But I’m falling for Terry’s girl.”
“Well,” Robin finished her beer and set the bottle on the ground beside her chair. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing. Linda more or less informed me on our first date that I was the one for her, and I was smart enough not to argue. Next thing I knew, we were married, and I was pregnant.”
Quinn laughed. “Somehow, I think I’ll be safe from that.”
“But,” Robin continued, smiling as well, “I think you should work on showing Honor that she’s your girl now.”
My girl. Will she ever want that? Quinn glanced up at the house as the screen door slammed and Honor and Linda came toward them carrying trays of food and fresh drinks. Honor was the only woman who had ever been able to make Quinn’s heart stand still just at the sight of her.
“Hi, gorgeous,” Linda said, leaning down and kissing Robin soundly on the mouth. “Another victory for the home team, huh?”
Robin shrugged nonchalantly. “Yep, our kids really kicked some ass today.”
“Shh!” Honor chided, nodding toward the children. “They’ll hear you.”
“Don’t worry,” Quinn assured her, trying not to laugh at the genuine concern in Honor’s eyes. “We’ll be sure not to contaminate them with our competitive vices.”
“They’ll discover competition all by themselves, and probably sooner than we think, too.” Honor, her gaze following her daughter in the pool, sat on the end of Quinn’s lounge chair, resting her hand casually on Quinn’s bare thigh. “It’ll be nice for them to be kids for a little while longer.”
“Denny and Kim are talking about karate class,” Linda announced, opening a bag of chips and passing it around. She pushed upward on the chair until she was between
Robin’s legs, nestled in the vee of her thighs, and shifted automatically so Robin could thread an arm around her waist. “I was worried they’re too young, but the school over on Germantown Avenue has four-year-olds in the class.”
“I took karate when I was a kid,” Quinn said with effort. The heat from Honor’s palm was distracting, but very pleasantly so. She wanted to be even closer. Her breasts felt heavy and full, her nipples tight, and she wanted to press against the curve of Honor’s back, to feel the pleasure of that contact the way she’d felt it when she’d awakened that morning with Honor in her arms. She shivered. “It’s good discipline and great physical training. It never hurts to be comfortable with self-defense, either, especially for girls.”
Honor sighed. “Well, if your kids do it, then Arly’s going to want to join, too.” She turned to Quinn, leaning forward and extending one arm alongside Quinn’s hip. “Is it safe?”
“With a good teacher, it is.” Quinn tried desperately not to look down at Honor’s breasts, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Honor was so close now that Quinn could smell her scent, and it was making her a little dizzy.
“Well,” Honor murmured, caught in the reflections of sunlight swirling in Quinn’s eyes, “I guess we’ll wait until they ask.” She had begun circling her hand on Quinn’s thigh without realizing it, enjoying the feel of the muscles tensing beneath her fingers. “Maybe you can help pick the school.”
“Sure.” Quinn shifted uncomfortably. She was hot. The blood pounded in her ears, and she had quickly grown hard and wet. Casually as possible, she slid her legs away from Honor and stood, certain that if she remained, she was going to have to touch her. “I’m just going to run into the house for a few minutes.”
In the kitchen, Quinn pulled another beer from the refrigerator and leaned against the door, rolling the cold surface of the bottle over her forehead. Jesus. Jesus, she’s beautiful. I want her. Jesus, I want her.
“Quinn?” Honor stepped inside and let the door close behind her. The sight of Quinn with one arm braced against the refrigerator, eyes closed and trembling faintly, sent a bolt of fear straight through her. She crossed to her quickly, putting a hand on her back. “Quinn? Are you all right?”
“No.” Turning, Quinn opened her eyes and set the bottle blindly on the counter beside her. Then, she put her hands on Honor’s waist and pulled her close. “No, I’m not all right at all.”
Ignoring the question hovering on Honor’s lips, she covered Honor’s mouth with her own. Groaning low in her chest, she kissed her, not gentle now, not patient, but hard and fierce. She pressed her chest and thighs to Honor, bending Honor back with her arms around her waist, tight and possessive. It could’ve been a minute, it might have been an hour, but she didn’t stop feasting on Honor’s mouth until she felt Honor’s hands tighten in her hair and yank her head back.
“Another second and I’ll have you right up against that refrigerator,” Honor gasped. I’ll take you where you stand, until you can’t stand. Oh God, Quinn.
Quinn found Honor’s breast through the soft cotton of her T-shirt and the thin silk of her bra beneath. She squeezed the hard nipple, her voice low and raw. “Not before I had you.”
Honor’s eyes turned liquid, swirling like rich chocolate, sensuous and sweet. “I might argue that, but why bother.” She rubbed her hand over Quinn’s chest, then down her abdomen. “It’s a win-win situation.”
“Your friends are outside,” Quinn panted, her stomach quivering beneath Honor’s fingers. “And the kids.”
“I know.” She put her mouth to Quinn’s neck and bit just shy of hard. “Are you busy later?”
“I hope so.”
Honor’s mouth curved into a slow, satisfied smile. “Count on it.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Quinn tapped gently on the back door and waited, acutely aware of the swiftly approaching dark, the still, sultry heat of the late-summer night, and the rapid beat of her own heart. Every sensation seemed magnified, momentous, all because in a few seconds, Honor would appear. And that instant of breath-catching, stomach-twisting pleasure when she first saw her was all she’d been thinking about for hours.
All afternoon and evening, Quinn had tried unsuccessfully to occupy her mind by clearing the last of the boxes from her apartment. She’d unpacked, stowed away clothes and books, and carried cardboard boxes down to the recycling bins in the alley. At one point, she’d considered going to the gym, but finally decided she didn’t want to have another conversation with Mandy. She wasn’t particularly bothered by Mandy’s not-so-subtle flirtations, but the only hands she wanted on her skin were Honor’s.
She’d taken a long shower that, instead of relaxing her, had only brought her blood to the surface and added to the arousal that cried out for a touch. Honor’s touch.
“Quinn?”
“Phyllis!” Quinn blushed, glad for the shadows because she was certain her desire must be evident. “I’m sorry. I thought Honor said 8:30. I’ll just come ba—”
“Honor’s upstairs.” Laughing, Phyllis pushed the screen door open. “She put Arly to bed, and I think she’s in the shower. Come on in.”
Vaguely uncomfortable, Quinn followed until she was just inside the door. The kitchen was dimly illuminated by only a few lights beneath the cabinets over the kitchen counter, and the air still held the lingering aroma of dinner. Arly’s Visible Woman lay amongst scattered body parts on the table. Pooch snored softly on a dog bed in the corner. Quinn was struck again by the sense of family that permeated the space, and the sharp knowledge that someone was missing. She looked across the room to Phyllis, who leaned against the sink, observing Quinn with a mixture of kindness and question.
“Would you like some coffee?” Phyllis asked. “I just made it.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” As Quinn took the offered mug a minute later, she added, “I’m sorry I missed you at soccer today. Arly was terrific.”
“I had to run as soon as the game was over. I had a date for a matinée performance of Rent downtown.” Phyllis picked up her own cup and gestured toward the porch. “Let’s go outside. It’s so beautiful this time of night.”
Side by side, they leaned against the porch railing and breathed the rich warm scent of summer. Quinn sighed, wondering what, if anything, Honor had said to Phyllis about their relationship. She didn’t want to broach the subject for fear of invading Honor’s privacy, but she didn’t deal well with secrets, either. And Phyllis was much too important to Honor and Arly for there to be unresolved issues between her and Quinn.
“Did you enjoy the drummers last night?” Phyllis asked conversationally.
“Very much. It was special.” All of it. So very special.
Phyllis turned, edged a hip against the railing, and smiled at Quinn. “This is a very unusual situation, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Rather than being uncomfortable, Quinn’s uneasiness began to dissipate. It was her nature to confront issues head-on if she could. Still, it was Phyllis who had to lead this time, even as it was Honor who had to define what Quinn and she could share. If Honor had not been wounded so deeply, Quinn would have pursued her with the same intensity and focus that she did everything else in her life. But she had only to look at Honor to see her uncertainty and sense the fine edge of pain still so near the surface. Only when they touched did she know without question how right it was between them.
“If it helps,” Quinn continued, “I think Honor is the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met and that Arly is a fantastic kid. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt either one of them, ever.” She held Phyllis’s gaze steadily. “Or you, Phyllis, if I could possibly avoid it.” But I won’t let Honor go unless she tells me to leave. Not even for you.
“If Terry were alive,” Phyllis said evenly, without the slightest hint of censure, “you wouldn’t be here. Not like this.”
“I wouldn’t want to be.” Quinn’s voice was gentle, her expression calm.
“I know that.” Phyllis smil
ed softly and patted Quinn’s shoulder gently. “And that’s exactly why I’m glad that you are.”
Quinn released a long slow breath. “Thank you. That means a lot to me, but it will mean much more to Honor.”
Phyllis tilted her head, regarding Quinn fondly. “You seem to understand her very well. Why is that, do you think?”
“I don’t know. I felt something the minute I saw her, some...connection.” She shrugged, frustrated for the first time. “I can’t put words to it, but it doesn’t seem like I need to. Not to me. It just feels...right.”
“I think you put just exactly the right words to it, Quinn.” Phyllis picked up her coffee cup. “I expect that Honor will be right down. I’m going to go home, take a long bath, and see if I can’t talk a certain gentlemen into a late-night drive.”
“Good luck,” Quinn called after her as Phyllis descended the back porch steps and disappeared around the corner toward her own half of the house. Soft laughter and what sounded like You, too floated back to her on the breeze.
Smiling, Quinn returned to the kitchen, rinsed her coffee mug, and turned it upside down on the drain board. When she turned around, Honor was watching her from the doorway into the hall.
“I came downstairs to tell Phyllis I was running late.” Honor’s voice was husky and low.
The breath flew from Quinn’s chest and her stomach dropped like an elevator cut free from its cable. Honor, her hair still wet from the shower, wore a pale green silk robe that came to midthigh, belted at the waist. She was barefoot, and faint drops of moisture had soaked through the material just beneath the swell of her breasts. Quinn could imagine the dampness anointing the smooth skin and her own burst to life, tingling with a fine sheen of perspiration. Throat suddenly dry, she gestured toward the back door. “She just left.”
“Good timing.” Honor leaned her shoulder against the door frame, enjoying the stunned expression on Quinn’s face. Quinn had changed into black jeans and a blue cotton shirt, and she looked lean and beautiful and coiled tight as a spring. Honor had an irresistible urge to make her snap. She pushed away from the door, saying, “Arly’s asleep. Once she goes down, she never wakes up.”
