by Nell Stark
“Somebody needs to give you lessons in how to stave off the hordes,” she said, trying to keep her voice light and casual. “A big stick is always handy.”
Quinn shrugged. “That’s never happened to me before. Thanks for rescuing me.”
“My pleasure.” Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Corrie looked out toward the harbor. But I’m not rescuing you at all, am I? Her newfound resolve dissipated as fast as it had appeared. Can I really do this? She trusts me...but I’m helping her grow, dammit. I am. Once the regatta was done and it was over between them, Quinn would be able to find a real relationship in no time. She won’t even miss me.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Quinn asked. Her voice sounded tentative.
“Sure, okay.” The crazy thing, the scary thing, was that it felt so damn good to be with Quinn that Corrie sometimes forgot she was pretending. Corrie felt the familiar panic rise into her throat. You just need to get laid. Easy cure. Go back inside and sneak off into a dark corner with someone and—
“Let’s walk along the beach.” Quinn slipped off her sandals as soon as they reached the cool sand and paused to wriggle her toes. “I love the way it feels. Between my toes, I mean.” She looked over her right shoulder at Corrie. “You should take yours off, too.”
“Okay,” Corrie said again. Her brain was insisting that she go back to the bar, but her gut was telling her to stay put. To stay with Quinn. She had no idea where all of this was leading—probably nowhere—but it wouldn’t really hurt to find out, would it?
“My parents have a house on Cape Cod,” said Quinn as Corrie removed her Tevas. “We used to stay there for most of the summer, and when I was young, I loved to build sandcastles with my brother and sister.”
Corrie grinned, momentarily disarmed by the anecdote. Cute. “Were you good at it?”
“Oh, very. We made some very elaborate ones. And when we had finished with the moat—you always do the moat last, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Then, I would dig around until I found two sand crabs. And I’d wash them off in a bucket, and then put them in the throne room. As the king and queen of the castle.”
Corrie laughed helplessly. “Is there any animal you don’t like?”
Quinn thought for a few seconds. The moon, fuller than it had been last night, illuminated her concentrated frown, especially the way her tongue slightly poked out between her teeth. “Ticks,” she said, finally. “I don’t really see the point.”
“Good call.” Corrie nodded and casually reached for Quinn’s free hand. She hadn’t objected earlier, after all. And her skin felt so good. Warm and slightly moist. “Sucking blood until you burst...something’s wrong, there.”
Quinn wrinkled her nose. “Thanks for that image.”
They walked silently for a while, their linked hands swinging between them. “What’re your brother and sister like?” Corrie asked. She suddenly wanted to know.
“They’re great. Sheila is still in college. She’s a junior. Her major changes every month.”
“Ah, of course.” Corrie let her thumb briefly caress Quinn’s knuckles. Knuckles could be surprisingly sensitive. “Does that drive your parents crazy?”
“Fortunately not. They’re very supportive and tolerant.”
“Good for them,” Corrie said, but she was starting to get distracted. The heat in her body was rapidly rising, spiraling out of control as Quinn’s hip bumped against hers and their arms brushed lightly. The wanting was strong tonight—too strong. She found herself steering them toward the largest rocks in the breakwater. They would provide some shelter from passersby. And besides, she wanted to press Quinn up against one of them, to feel the entire length of Quinn’s body melting into her own. No pushing. I just...I need... Her stomach tightened in anticipation.
“My older brother,” Quinn was saying, “is in his last year of medical residency. We’ve always joked that we should set up a dual clinic for both people and their pets. Like, go get your sinus infection diagnosed while your dog gets its rabies vaccine.”
“Good idea,” Corrie said as she maneuvered them into the shadow of a tall boulder. Within a few seconds, she had edged Quinn up against the weathered surface of the rock.
“What are you doing?” Quinn whispered. She swallowed hard.
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day.” Corrie’s voice was gritty and urgent. She rested her palms on the boulder, on either side of Quinn’s shoulders. “Do you want me to?”
Quinn swallowed again. Her gaze darted over Corrie’s face. “Yes.”
“Ask me then.” That rush of power—sweet and warm.
Quinn’s sharp intake of breath was audible, even over the crashing of the surf. “Please—”
Corrie didn’t wait to hear more. She covered Quinn’s lips with her own, parting them gently with her tongue. Her hands moved to Quinn’s waist—clutching, kneading, thumbs pressing into her bellybutton through the thin cotton tee.
Quinn made small, breathy noises as Corrie’s palms traveled gradually up as her mouth continued to move firmly but tenderly over Quinn’s. Across her ribcage, Corrie’s touch lingered in the slight grooves between the bones, up and up and up, fanning over her breasts. Corrie finally pulled her head back as Quinn gasped for air, but her fingers continued to move, tormenting Quinn’s nipples through her T-shirt
Out of control. Too far, too fast. But even her conscience was breathless. Maybe it was the moon, pulling her blood as it pulled the ocean, or maybe it was the low throb of the tide itself. Or perhaps it was Quinn—her softness, her surrender.
“I want you,” Corrie breathed, seizing the opportunity to taste Quinn’s right earlobe with her eager tongue. “I want all of you, naked, beneath me.”
Quinn groaned softly. A sweet sound.
“You want that too.” Corrie eased one thigh between Quinn’s legs and pressed up, increasing the pressure as Quinn gasped at the sensation. “I can tell. You want my hands on you—all over you. Inside you.” She lowered her mouth to Quinn’s jaw line, nibbled at it with gentle nips. “You’re so sensual, Quinn. So responsive. You have no idea what you’re capable of, and you want me to show you. I know you do.”
Corrie leaned back just enough to meet Quinn’s eyes—deep pools of want darker than the shadows. “Tell me,” Corrie demanded. Her voice was quiet but urgent. When Quinn simply blinked at her, Corrie rolled both nipples gently between each thumb and index finger. Quinn’s eyes slammed shut. A whimper. “Tell me. It’s okay. Tell me.”
“Corrie—”
Then, above the rapid pounding of her heart, Corrie heard laughter. She froze. A shouted question, a louder response. Several voices—drunk and clamoring. Getting closer.
“Fuck.” She pulled away from Quinn, who immediately sank to the ground, her back resting against the boulder. Corrie could hear her labored breaths, below the noises of the raucous group approaching them. She eased herself down to the sand, close to, but not touching, Quinn. The moment had passed.
Damn other people, always interrupting! Corrie thought, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth. She shivered as the desire raged through her muscles.
“I don’t get it,” Quinn said quietly, as the revelers staggered past them. “Why do you want me, anyway?” She looked resolutely out toward the ocean, one arm curled around both drawn-up knees. “You could have anyone. I’m not even very attractive.”
Corrie turned to look at her. She said nothing until Quinn reluctantly met her gaze. “I could make you believe that you are. I could prove it.”
Quinn’s mouth opened soundlessly. She sat very still, trapped by the intensity written in the lines and planes of Corrie’s face. Hunger. Need. Directed at her, for her. So very sexy, and yet also touching. Affirming. Quinn didn’t know how to reply. Maybe there was nothing to say.
Corrie misinterpreted her reaction. “I’ve frightened you,” she said, looking away again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go that far, just then.”
“I’m not sure that you should,” Corrie muttered, so quietly that Quinn almost didn’t hear. She did touch Corrie, then, one hand tentatively resting on a bowed shoulder.
“And why is that?” she asked softly. There was a long pause before Corrie finally began to talk.
“It feels, sometimes, like Denise opened up this...this dark place in me.” She shook her head, struggling to articulate. If I tell you, will you understand? Will you see through me? Will you get the hell away from me so I don’t hurt you? “Stupid, I know. But I hated myself for a long time after it was over. I’d look in the mirror and wonder where I’d gone wrong, what I could have done.”
Corrie reached down to scoop up the sand. It drained through her fingers before she spoke again. “After a few weeks of self-loathing, I realized just how dumb that was and started hating her—and Will—instead. There are these feelings I have, emotions I know aren’t healthy, but they won’t go away. They just won’t. And I do things...”
She lapsed into silence. Quinn sat frowning into the dark, wracking her brain for something she could say that wouldn’t sound inane, wanting so very badly to be able to fix it. But this wasn’t a minor scrape that could be patched up with a Band-Aid. No, this was an old wound. Old and deep and festering.
“I wish I could be like Jen,” Corrie said finally. “Or better yet, like you.” She glanced at Quinn, then looked away again. She barely even knew what she was saying—only that the confession was pouring out of her like the sand through her hands. “Sometimes I think about what it must be like inside your head. White and soft and clean—bright, with no dark corners—and I want to curl up in there and sleep for years and years until I forget having ever done anything I’m not proud of.”
Quinn inhaled sharply, as though Corrie’s words had knocked the breath out of her body. “Oh,” she said shakily, “I have a few dark corners.” She could feel her heart thudding against her breastbone, her hands trembling against her knees. No one had ever said anything like that to her before; no one had even come close. The shock made her skin tingle, even as she experienced an overwhelming desire to simply slide her arms around Corrie’s waist and rock her until she felt peace.
Quinn swallowed. It hurt. “You feel so much. It’s one of the things I—” The word teetered on the precipice of her lips. “It’s one of the things that draws me to you.”
Corrie’s gaze skittered over her face again. She might have smiled faintly. Quinn couldn’t tell in the patchy light. “You’re drawn to me?”
It was Quinn’s turn to look away. You know I am. “What did you mean,” she asked instead, “about the unhealthy feelings?”
“Dodging the question,” said Corrie. But when Quinn continued to stare out toward the harbor, she exhaled slowly. “Power. I started to crave it, and I guess I still do. Knowing I’m wanted, needed. Having control.” She paused. “Using people.” There. I’ve warned you. If you don’t hear it, that’s not my fault.
Quinn watched her as she spoke, the fingers of one hand curling down into the sand, a few strands of glittering blond hair fluttering against her cheek in the light breeze, the gentle bulge of her triceps as she leaned against the boulder. Strength and beauty and elegance. Not weak. You’re not weak.
“Does it make you feel better? When you seduce someone? When you’re in charge?”
Corrie’s shoulders hunched, ever so slightly. “For a while. There’s nothing quite like the power trip that comes from sex. When someone needs you like that, needs you way down deep in their body...” She trailed off. “Hell,” she said finally, her voice flat. “I’m probably disgusting you, aren’t I?”
Quinn finally did reach out then, grasping Corrie’s free hand and allowing their fingers to entwine. “You don’t disgust me,” she said firmly. “Not at all.” Her hand tightened. “Not having experience doesn’t make me a prude, you know.”
“Oh, I know, I didn’t mean to suggest that—”
When Quinn touched Corrie’s wind-chapped lips, she froze immediately. “Hush,” said Quinn. “It’s my turn to talk.” It was difficult to pull away, but Quinn was suddenly afraid that if she continued to touch Corrie, especially her lips, they would bypass conversation altogether. Her body still pulsed with the desire that Corrie had rekindled just a few minutes ago.
“I wish she hadn’t hurt you like that,” she said quietly. “I wish she’d never made you feel inadequate or unwanted, because you’re neither of those things. And I hope you can forgive her, forgive them both, someday, so you can get a little peace.”
When Corrie looked away from her, shrugging uncomfortably, Quinn hurried to continue. “But, as for the dark places, they’re part of you. Everyone fights against something inside them, and it’s that fight that makes us—” Abruptly, she lost the thread of her words. This wasn’t coming out right at all. “Your intensity, your passion,” she tried again. “The way you do everything as though it might be your last moment. People are drawn to the fire in you, Corrie. Not despite the danger, but because of it.”
As she stopped talking, she became aware of Corrie’s astonished face, of her wide, shadowed eyes and slightly parted lips. Totally and completely vulnerable, for a single instant in time. And deep inside Quinn—deeper than her muscles or sinews or bones—something happened.
The sensation reminded her of when she had gone to Alaska as a child, on vacation with her parents. They had stood in a boat near snow covered cliffs in June, watching as a huge chunk of blue-tinted ice had dropped with a crackling roar into the frothing water, and their craft had pitched alarmingly from side to side in the waves that followed. Now, on a midsummer’s night in New England, the air was warm enough to raise beads of sweat along her hairline. But she sat frozen as the wave thundered under every inch of her skin, raising goose bumps in its wake. Her teeth would have chattered had her jaw not been clenched.
So, she thought, somehow outside herself. It really does feel like falling.
“Quinn,” Corrie whispered. She leaned closer.
If she kisses me, we won’t stop this time, Quinn realized. The realization was relief. She closed her eyes—
“Your Red Sox are fucking pansies, Harris!” Jen’s raised voice floated toward them on the light breeze. “The Yanks’ll have you for breakfast this year.”
“Stop yelling about it, jeez.” Drew was harder to make out. “You’re in Rhode Island, remember? Not really all that far from Boston? You’ll get us shot!”
Quinn groaned. Corrie pulled away and buried her face in her hands. She muttered something that sounded a lot like, “I’m going to kill them,” and Quinn laughed weakly. You’re not the only one.
Corrie finally got up and dusted off the seat of her shorts. She held out her hand to Quinn who took it and scrambled to her feet. “Thanks for the talk. I guess maybe I needed that.”
Quinn’s answering smile was beautiful. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Corrie managed a lopsided grin in return before she stepped away from the sheltering rock, freeing Quinn’s hand as she moved. “Did we leave our indoor voices at the bar?” she asked Drew and Jen.
“Oh,” said Jen, waving one hand expansively in her general direction. “Fuck you.”
“Finally, after all these years?”
Jen peered at them suspiciously, as Quinn moved into the moonlight. “What were you two doing, eh?”
“Having a good talk,” Corrie said firmly. “And now, it’s clearly time to get you to bed.”
“No kidding,” said Drew. “She’s off her rocker, talking smack like that about the ’Sox.”
They walked slowly toward the pier where their J-boat was docked, Jen’s hiccups intermittently punctuating their progress. Drew pulled the boat in close enough to the dock for them to all jump on board. Jen clung fiercely to the fore
stay.
“Where’s Brad’s crew?” Corrie asked. The boat next to theirs was dark and quiet.
“Still drowning their sh—sorrows,” Jen slurred.
“Ah.” Corrie opened the hatch and gestured for Drew and Jen to precede her into the hold, where they had layered mattresses on the floor. She clambered down after them to retrieve her sleeping bag.
“C’mon, Jen, crawl in.” Drew’s cajoling voice was frustrated, but gentle. “Not like that, you idiot. The zipper goes the other way.”
Corrie stepped back out onto the deck just as Quinn appeared near the top of the short ladder. “I’m gonna sleep outside,” she answered Quinn’s questioning glance. “It’s nice out.”
“Okay.” Quinn briefly cupped her cheek before lowering herself below. “Good night.”
She wormed her way into her own sleeping bag, suddenly exhausted. And yet, when she closed her eyes, all she could feel were Corrie’s hands on her body. So certain, so possessive. What would it be like to let those hands undress her? To let them touch her everywhere, with no barriers between Corrie’s hot palms and her skin?
Jen began to snore loudly, but Quinn could only hear Corrie’s voice. “I could make you believe.”
She wasn’t, Quinn reflected, a nice hearth fire on a cold winter’s night. She was a bonfire, throwing sparks up to the heavens, crackling out of control. A supernova. A rip tide, pulling her under. Inexorable.
“I could make you believe.”
Corrie cared for her—of that she was certain. But she could not—or would not—return the most important thing.
“I could make you believe.”
She had promised herself that she would not give her body to someone she did not love. But that was not the issue.
“I could make you believe.”
Quinn buried her face into the crumpled URI sweatshirt that served as her pillow. I want her, she thought dully. I want to sleep with her. I want her to touch me, and I want to make love to her.
