Running With the Wind

by Nell Stark

  Part of Quinn wanted to reach out, to take Corrie’s hand and pull her in for a long embrace. To tell her that her confession didn’t matter. That it didn’t change the facts. That her love was unconditional. But at the same time, she needed to know. And perhaps more importantly, she sensed that Corrie needed to tell her.

  “Let’s go inside.”

  Frog skittered across the floor as Quinn stepped into the house, his paws clicking loudly against the wood. But he didn’t wag his tail. Instead, he whined low in his throat and pushed his nose into the palm of Quinn’s hand.

  There was a long pause, during which Corrie swallowed audibly. “We should go sit down.” The suggestion was more of a ploy for time than anything else, but when Quinn perched on the edge of the couch, so very nervous yet also clearly determined, Corrie knew that she had to deliver what she’d promised. I have to tell her—to tell her everything. The guilty anticipation was a sucker punch, and it left her breathing shallowly.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said, looking down at the floor. “I...I used you. When Will accused me of not being able to keep a relationship going, I decided I’d prove him wrong, and went after you.” She smiled bitterly. “It worked even better than I could have hoped, except for the fact that my entire reason for wanting to show him up never existed in the first place.”

  She gripped the armrests of her chair and leaned forward, watching the hurt ripple across Quinn’s expressive face. “So now you know. Now you know exactly just how messed up I am—enough to lie to you and manipulate you. All for nothing.”

  Quinn’s hands trembled as she clutched at her knees, the newly developed muscles in her arms leaping into sharp relief. “What gives you the right?” she finally said. Corrie could hear the snarl of tears that blocked her voice. “I never did anything to you. I wasn’t a part of this until you made me—”

  She cut herself off and surged up out of her seat. Corrie sat back in surprise. “What gives you the right?” she asked again, her voice louder and stronger. She moved forward until she was standing only a foot from Corrie’s chair, her eyes so bright they burned.

  “Dammit, Corrie, you have a responsibility. You’re beautiful, you’re fun, you’re so charismatic it’s scary.” Two tears freed themselves and cascaded down her red cheeks, only to cling to the corners of her mouth. “You have power over other people—over how they feel about themselves—and you’re selfish with it.”

  Her tongue flicked out to catch each tear, absorbing them back into her body. “Go ahead and ruin your own life, if you want to. Go ahead and make yourself miserable. But leave other people out of it. Please.”

  Quinn’s agonized words pressed in on Corrie, forcing her shoulders to bow. “I know what I did to you. I know it was wrong. I just...I’d take it back if I could, okay?” She gulped noisily and ducked her head. “I want you to know that I would.”

  Quinn began to pace. Corrie could feel the energy flowing opposite its usual course—from her, and into Quinn. Taking back what I stole from her. Reclaiming herself. It would have been a beautiful sight, had she not felt so guilty.

  “Just tell me this much.” Quinn paused near the window. “Just tell me one thing, and then I’ll leave and you can move on to your next victim.” Corrie winced and looked down at the hem of her shorts. One of the threads was coming loose. She’d have to cut it; if she pulled, it would unravel completely.

  “Did you really pretend all of it?” Quinn’s voice, insistent but somehow softer, forced her to look up. “Was it all just a...a game? Or was there ever...” Her voice trailed off again.

  Corrie looked down at her strong, tan hands. When I touch you like this, you are mine. There had been something so special about that night. Something unique. Something powerful. But what she felt for Quinn went far beyond the purely physical. Memories of the past two months collided with the hollow sensation in the pit of her gut, sparking and merging. Quinn had made her feel strong, capable, secure. Loved.

  It was the moment of deepest truth, the ultimate confession. Corrie took a long, shuddering breath and finally let go. Her heart unfurled, a becalmed sail waiting desperately for just a puff of wind.

  “No,” she said. “It wasn’t just a game.” And then her breath hitched and her shoulders began to shake as first one, then several tears dripped hotly onto her knees, scarred and bruised from so many years of sailing. She refused to look anywhere but down, certain that within a few seconds, the front door would slam shut, and that would be the end. The end of the only real relationship you’ve ever managed. And that was the irony, wasn’t it? What she had begun cynically had somehow become genuine. Authentic. True.

  But the door did not slam. Instead, two moist palms covered her knees, and warm breath cascaded against the skin of her forehead and for some unknown reason, Quinn was kissing her—her lips moving gently as she traced Corrie’s hairline.

  “I’m glad,” she said. Callused fingers massaged her head, gently raising it until Quinn could press her lips chastely against Corrie’s. “So very glad.”

  “Don’t,” Corrie whispered, her eyes closed. “Don’t forgive me. Not for this.”

  But Quinn kissed her again, and then again—over and over, her lips sliding softly against Corrie’s until Corrie couldn’t help but respond. Quinn pulled back then and waited for Corrie’s hazy eyes to focus on her face.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

  A shaky smile curved Corrie’s lips, but quickly faded. “You knew that I might hurt you,” she said. “And I did.” Her voice trembled. “Why did you let me? Why did you risk it?”

  Quinn knelt down on the floor at Corrie’s feet. “People do that—hurt each other,” she said finally, meeting Corrie’s tortured gaze. “We can’t help it, unless we go off and live in cave or something. And even then, we’d be leaving someone behind.” She sat back on her heels and restlessly smoothed the fabric of her shorts. “It’s happened to you. It happens to everyone. The most important thing is not to do it on purpose.”

  Corrie swallowed loudly. “I...god, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean anything, but—” She sniffled and tried to breathe in deeply. “I tried to convince myself that I was just going through the motions. But I wasn’t. I guess maybe I was afraid.” She blinked her swollen eyes. “Hell, I’m still afraid.”

  “Why?” Ever so slowly, Quinn slid one her hand between them. When she laced her fingers with Corrie’s and rested it on her knee, Corrie’s breath hitched.

  “Afraid that once you’ve thought about all this you’ll realize I’m not nearly good enough for you—not by a long shot. Like Denise did.”

  Quinn raised their joined hands so that she could press gentle kisses to the tan skin below Corrie’s knuckles. “You heard what she said. She didn’t leave you because you weren’t good enough. She left because she wasn’t. She couldn’t find the courage to live her own life.”

  Corrie had closed her eyes at the first gentle touch of Quinn’s lips to her skin. When she opened them, she saw Quinn in a different light. You really are older than me, she realized.

  She exhaled slowly. Something loosened in her chest, like a chunk of ice trying to break free from its berg and melt away into the ocean. It left her feeling a little empty, and scared. “But...how can you still want me?” she asked, almost childlike. “After what I did? After I lied? How?” Why would you ever give me another chance, Quinn? Help me understand.

  Quinn looked away, considering. “I think we have to say yes to the good things that find us,” she said, finally. “Even if bad things have already happened, or might happen later. Even if saying yes hurts—better that than to never have anything at all.” She met Corrie’s eyes, then looked away again. “And that’s ridiculously simplistic.” She shook her head and released Corrie’s hand. “Should I...do you want me to go? You’re exhausted, I can tell.”

  But as she began to stand up, Corrie recaptured that hand. She squeezed gently. “No. Please don’t.
” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I don’t want you to.”

  “No?” Quinn’s eyes were dark and hopeful and sad. Corrie hated herself for causing that sadness, even as she understood that she was the only one who could make it disappear.

  She licked dry lips. “I want to say yes to you.” I need you, Quinn. I do. And you need me to finally admit it.

  Quinn’s smile was slow and radiant and new. It was perfect. She rose smoothly to her feet and pulled Corrie up beside her. “Then follow me.”

  At the top of the stairs, Quinn turned and kissed her. Her mouth trailed down from Corrie’s lips to trace her jaw line. “Do you trust me?” she asked against her skin.

  “Yes.”

  “Then close your eyes.”

  Quinn led her into the bedroom, then stepped into the circle of her arms. She walked Corrie backward until her hamstrings pressed against the edge of the bed. “Sit down,” she said gently. She cupped Corrie’s face, smoothing her freckled cheeks with both thumbs. So beautiful, so beloved. I can’t resist you. I don’t even want to try.

  “Now open your eyes,” she said, “and tell me what you need.”

  Corrie’s expression was as hazy as the late afternoon air had been. She blinked up at Quinn, tired and wanting and so very vulnerable. “I know, I know I don’t deserve you. But I need...” She stopped and breathed deeply. “Could you hold me? For a little while?”

  Quinn’s earnest face—such a good face—was serious as she settled onto the bed. “I’ll do anything for you, you know,” she said, blinking back sudden tears. “I love you. I didn’t mean to, and part of me still doesn’t want to, but I love you.”

  A slow shiver ran through Corrie’s body at the words. Quinn felt it. She knew a kind of power, then—a sweet, gentle power that buoyed her up and helped her understand what to do next. Flashing a lopsided smile, she turned to grasp Corrie’s shoulders, pushing her back onto the covers with gentle pressure.

  “Turn,” she said, maneuvering Corrie onto her side and curling around her. She tucked her hand beneath Corrie’s breasts and sighed contentedly against the nape of her neck.

  Corrie pressed back into her and pulled her arms into a tighter embrace, shivering a little and then falling quiet. “You feel so good.” Quinn tangled her legs with Corrie’s, entwining their feet and ankles together.

  They lay quietly for a long time, long enough for their breathing to synchronize, for their bodies to melt into each other and their warmth to mingle. Long enough for Quinn to feel the wanting awaken in her blood—sharp and sweet and urgent. Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around Corrie’s breast, and her lips brushed the back of her neck.

  “Corrie,” she murmured reverently. “I want you. To claim you.”

  Corrie moaned and her hips rolled involuntarily at Quinn’s hesitant touch. “Quinn, yes...”

  Quinn teased the tip of Corrie’s breast through her shirt. Corrie tensed in her arms and let out a soft cry. Slowly, Quinn shifted her grasp to the hem and began to work it loose—to slide the shirt slowly, tantalizingly, up and over Corrie’s head.

  After a few seconds, Quinn tugged gently at Corrie’s waist, urging her to lie on her back as she slipped her loose shorts down over her hips. As Corrie’s body was bared, Quinn caught her breath in wonder. The small areas just around Corrie’s nipples were the most beautiful shade of dark pink—like the high, wispy clouds during a hazy sunset. She watched the skin pucker under her gaze, watched the nipples harden and grow darker. When she met Corrie’s eyes, they were wide and pleading, but also nervous in a way she had never known them to be.

  Quinn cupped her cheek briefly before drawing converging spirals around Corrie’s breast. She traced the dusky circle around her nipple with soft fingers, and Corrie whimpered helplessly.

  “I love your body.” The words were shy and quiet, but when Corrie groaned, Quinn’s confidence grew. “I love how soft you are, here.” And then her palm moved into the dip between Corrie’s breasts before tracking down, down across the tawny plain of her stomach. “And how firm you are, here.” She let her touch skitter lightly across Corrie’s ribcage and felt her body tighten immediately. Corrie gasped. “And I love that you’re ticklish.” Corrie laughed shakily.

  Quinn reigned in her mischievous fingertips and concentrated on the slight dips between Corrie’s abdomen and thighs. Muscles rippled beneath her touch. She looked up to meet Corrie’s wide-eyed gaze.

  “I love that you’re lying still, letting me feel you.” Quinn narrowed her touch to the tips of two fingers, sliding down so slowly until they brushed the golden brown curls between Corrie’s legs. “I love that you trust me.”

  “Yes,” Corrie surrendered, her back arching, her legs opening. “God, Quinn...need you, so much.”

  Quinn smiled brilliantly as she slipped her hand into Corrie’s warm folds, squeezing gently as she explored. She gasped as wetness coated her fingertips. And then she leaned forward to kiss Corrie, to tangle their tongues together as she massaged her, rubbing in light circles around, then over the tiny hard place nestled in the midst of such exquisite softness.

  Corrie’s body trembled, and she made tiny pleading sounds against Quinn’s mouth. Her hips lifted and Quinn switched to long, firm strokes—up and back, up and back, first with one finger, then with two. Corrie tore her lips away from Quinn’s, her breaths coming short and shallow. Quinn felt the muscles in Corrie’s stomach contract and knew she was close.

  “Look at me,” she said quietly.

  Corrie’s green eyes—nearly black, now—snapped open. Trying desperately to focus through Quinn’s tender, relentless touch, she stared into her eyes.

  “I love you,” Quinn said.

  Corrie tipped over the edge into the longest, gentlest climax she’d ever experienced, anchored through it all by Quinn’s eyes.

  Hours—it had to be hours later—she registered that Quinn was looking down at her—calm, peaceful, content. Corrie felt the last shreds of fear melt away in the warmth of that smile. “I love you,” she whispered back. Nothing had ever been more right, more certain.

  When Quinn’s eyes filled with sudden tears, terror stuck in the back of Corrie’s throat. She pulled Quinn close, cradling her face in the crook of her shoulder, feeling the warm drops cascade into the dip of her collarbone. “Oh,” she said anxiously. What is it? What’s wrong? What if she’s changed her mind?

  “I’m s-sorry,” said Quinn, her mouth warm against Corrie’s skin. “I just...I never thought I’d hear you s-say that.”

  Corrie relaxed and kissed Quinn’s forehead. I swear you’ll always know, she vowed silently. From now on. “I love you,” she said, stroking her back with gentle, soothing hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I’m sorry, so sorry that I hurt you. I love you, Quinn.”

  The sensation of Corrie wrapped around her finally banished Quinn’s tears. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “So glad.” She pulled back slightly, needing to see Corrie’s face. “I don’t say those words lightly, you know. I want...well, I mean...”

  When Quinn faltered, Corrie took up the slack. “I know the wind is finicky,” she said, holding Quinn’s gaze with her own. “But I really like the direction it’s blowing in right now. I say we run with it.” She leaned in for a kiss, the light strokes of her hands along Quinn’s sides a sensual promise. “What do you think?”

  Quinn arched into Corrie’s loving touch as desire sparked beneath her skin. “Full speed ahead, Skipper,” she whispered. They were the last coherent words she spoke for a long time.

  Clear Ahead

  Will’s perpetually tousled head poked out from behind the doorway leading into the living room. “Glad you could make it, sis!” he called. “See ya!”

  Corrie grinned over her shoulder and waved at him, then turned back to follow Denise down the hall toward the front door. Quinn was still at large. She had protested that she needed to say goodbye to someone, but Corrie suspected that the excuse had been a
front to ensure that she and Denise had some brief alone time. Quinn could be devious like that, she was learning.

  “Thank you for coming,” Denise said as she turned to open the door. Her voice was heartfelt. Relieved, even.

  Corrie lounged against the doorframe, essence of cool. “We appreciated the invitation. Congrats again.”

  “It was good to get to talk to Quinn some more,” Denise persisted. “I like her.”

  Corrie’s eyebrows arched. Denise had been overcompensating all evening, and Corrie couldn’t help but feel a small rush of satisfaction. Denise hadn’t brought up the uncomfortable conversation they’d shared a few weeks ago, but then again, maybe going out of her way to make them feel welcome was her version of “I really am sorry.” Not as if it matters, anyway. Not really. Not anymore.

  “Good,” she said. “I like her, too.”

  “Like who?” Quinn asked as she turned the corner and walked briskly toward them.

  “You.” Corrie leaned forward to kiss her. She meant it to be a light peck, but Quinn leaned forward to prolong it.

  When she finally broke away, Quinn turned back to Denise and smiled calmly. “It was fun to meet your friends and family, Denise. Thank you.”

  They shook hands, and Corrie nodded at Denise. “Have a good night.” She eased her arm around Quinn’s waist as the door closed behind them.

  “So?” Quinn asked, as she unlocked the car. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better after that kiss.” When Quinn flushed slightly, Corrie nudged her with one elbow. “So you were trying to make her jealous?”

  “Maybe just a little.” Quinn squinted diligently out the windshield as she pulled away from Denise’s family home.

  Corrie rested one hand on Quinn’s thigh and squeezed lightly. “You’re sweet. Thank you.” She closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders, mentally testing out her mood. “I feel okay, actually. Which is a miracle, considering that only a few weeks ago, I would have actively sought out opportunities to strangle her.”