Dedication

by Aisling Weaver

  Elizabeth smelled of jasmine and ginger, of my scent and hers and Connor’s. I could smell us on her and surrendered to the desire to taste the cocktail we made, the three of us. In increments I revealed her flesh to the night air, my mouth tasting each square inch of pale, near luminescent skin. Her flesh seemed to gather starlight and reflect it back to me; she glowed, pale and glorious against the dark field of stars, against the dark shadow of our blanket. When I knelt back to shed my clothes, my breath caught in my throat.

  “You look like an angel,” I whispered, my voice a match to the soft rush of the waves on the sandy beach at the foot of the bluff.

  Elizabeth laughed, soft and husky, and pulled me back down to her. “There’s no halo here, my Gwen.” Her skin slid against mine, velvety soft and smooth, warm curves that fit me like puzzle pieces. I couldn’t do anything but answer the siren call of her desire.

  Chapter 11

  Reclamation

  “….No, no, you were right to call, really, stop apologizing.”

  Emma’s voice reached me as I closed the front door. I could smell our lunch, the rich aroma of stew filling the house, and followed it and her voice into the kitchen. Her eyes sought mine and she held her hand out to me in silent entreaty.

  “….I know how you feel about him, honey, you’ve alot of history there.”

  My brow crinkled in confusion as I slid my hand into hers and let her curl against me, her head against my shoulder, phone to her ear, as the conversation continued. She plucked at the heavy cabling of my sweater as she listened and I slid my hand up and down her back soothingly.

  “….Okay, okay, just put me on hold, dear, I’ll hang on a bit.” Emma waited a moment before tucking the handset against her chest and looking up into my eyes. Her expression perplexed me and her lips quirked in a slight smile.

  “What’s wrong, Em?” I whispered, leaning down to press my lips to hers. She chuckled, leaning into the kiss for a moment, making my heart trip, before withdrawing; she smiled wryly.

  “I never thought I’d be doing this.” She untangled our limbs and gave me a soft shove. “Go pack.” She held up the phone. “It’s Beth and she needs you. She hasn’t said as much, but she’s just gotten home from two nights spent with Ian.”

  My heart dropped and I know my face hardened when Emma brushed her fingers against my cheek. “Yes. So, go, my love, and pack. I’ll get a bowl of stew ready for you before you go.”

  It took me all of five minutes to pack an overnight bag. I tried not to worry.

  Ian. The lover from Elizabeth’s past, the man she had danced a long, drawn-out courtship with years and years ago. Ian; who wasn’t Connor, who was an interloper, who tried to consume Elizabeth whenever their orbits tangled.

  With a simmering sense of unease, I made my way back to the kitchen and caught a far off look in Emma’s eyes, the phone resting on the counter.

  “Em?”

  My wife blinked and smiled at me. “She’s going to call back. Come eat, darling.” She had two bowls of stew and slices of crusty bread waiting for us; it reassured me that she was eating, too. Her appetite was far from regular anymore, and I would have hesitated leaving if she wasn’t eating. I still was hesitant to leave, starkly, painfully, away of the purple smudges beneath her eyes and her pale skin.

  “Are you sure, Emma?” I asked, my voice quiet.

  Her dark eyes met mine and she smiled, gaze warm with affection. She pulled me to sit next to her and I scooted my chair close enough that she could settle in the curve of my arm.

  “I’m sure, sweetheart.” She lifted my spoon with a teasing grin and I opened for it. “How’d I do?” I closed my eyes as the perfect flavors of the stew filled my senses. “I’m thinking that’s good, hmm?” I cracked an eye at her and nodded, reaching to retrieve my utensil.

  Knowing she’d resist discussion until the meal was finished, I tucked into my lunch, taking my time and relishing it. Leaving right away or leaving after lunch would still deliver me at the same time and save me the hassle of sitting in rush hour traffic.

  Forty-five minutes later I nuzzled my lips against Emma’s temple, earning a soft purr in response. “Time to go,” I whispered, a pained smile curving my lips as her grip on me tightened. We lay in a lazy tangle on the couch; regret and frustration twisted strangely inside me.

  “I know,” she replied, lifting herself up to meet my eyes. Her dark gaze held mine for a breath; my lungs seized when she brought her lips to mine in a crushing, sharp kiss. For an endless moment I forgot everything but the taste of her mouth, the slide of her skin under my fingers and the feel of her slender body. Emma raked her nails down my ribs, searing lines that made me groan and we drew apart, both gasping for air. Desire sheered at my control; I wanted to carry her upstairs, remind her what we once were, what we once shared.

  The ringing phone pulled us back into reality. “I imagine that’s Beth,” she whispered, sounding as frustrated as I felt. Reaching for the handset she untangled our bodies. “Hello?…Hi Beth…yes, no, it’s not a problem….”

  Our eyes met as Emma reached to slide her hand along my cheek. I swallowed around the sudden lump in my throat and pressed my lips to her palm. “Go,” she mouthed, eyes still tinged with lust now tight with frustration. The spell was broken.

  * * * *

  The drive to Elizabeth’s was excruciating. My thoughts tore between the two women, stomach tied into knots over Elizabeth, heart aching for Emma. Until my phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Stop.” Emma’s voice tripped my heartbeat.

  “Em?”

  “Stop beating yourself up, Gwen, okay?”

  I swallowed hard, my vision blurring at the edges. “Em,” I sighed, looking for a place to pull off the road.

  “We’ll talk when you get home.”

  I aimed my car down a narrow lane and parked under a copse of trees. “Emma.” Her name came out as something of a prayer and I heard her breath catch. In that moment I hated myself. Hated that I was driving to someone else instead of home, rediscovering the passion we once shared. So much time had passed since she’d felt desire for me…

  “Sweetheart,” she whispered and I leaned forward, pressing my head against the steering wheel. “Just…come home to me.” I didn’t answer, let the silence stretch, uncertain what action I could take that wouldn’t leave the copper taste of regret on my tongue. “Go take care of Beth, then…” My eyes opened, staring unseeingly at the dash display. “then come home to me.” Her voice dipped into a timber I hadn’t heard in more months than I wanted to recall. My body responded, heart thumping against my ribcage as I remembered once again how desperately I loved her.

  “I will,” I answered, and I knew my own voice betrayed my desire and more. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  The phone went dead as she hung up and I stared at it, feeling the sands of our relationship shifting beneath my feet.

  * * * *

  It was strange to pull into Elizabeth’s driveway. This time it was empty, no other cars awaited. Connor was on his way, would arrive shortly thanks to a hastily placed phonecall after I spoke to Emma.

  I still wasn’t sure that I was in the right place; I was trusting Emma. Gravel crunched before I made it to the door; I turned, watching Elizabeth’s car pull down the lane. My mind spun, searching for a reason for coming early, seeking the words that would explain my presence. For the first time I wasn’t there in the safe confines of our well-defined relationship. I leaned against her doorframe as she made her way up the walk, her eyes on my face, inscrutable expression on hers. She stopped an arm’s length from me and cocked her head.

  “She sent you.”

  I held her piercing gaze and nodded, hearing the distinct squeal of a car taking the bend down the road far too quickly. “Yes, she did,” I replied, erasing the space between us, reaching to sink my fingers into her hair. A sob hitched her shoulders and she resisted the tug of my hands.

/>   “I don’t understand you two,” she whispered, eyes suddenly shimmering. I let out a wry chuckle and leaned in to press my lips to hers.

  “Neither do we, anymore.” Elizabeth’s body jerked again and I folded her into my arms, feeling her stranglehold on her emotions begin to fail. Then Connor’s low-slung sedan swung into the drive, barely slowing until he ground to a stop beside our cars.

  “Oh my god.” Elizabeth twisted in my arms and we both watched Connor stride up the walk, his footsteps almost jerky with agitation. I knew what state he was in; knew he was furious, at himself and at Ian. The two men had a history where Elizabeth was concerned of which she was unaware. His eyes flicked from hers to mine and I reached back to unlock the door.

  “Let’s get inside, honey.”

  * * * *

  Connor’s agitation was palpable. His body hummed with tension beside me, like a bow fired empty, all of the energy left to reverberate within him instead of expelled at a target. “He knew I was away,” he growled, the statement barely audible above Elizabeth’s fussing over tea in the kitchen. I reached to touch the back of his hand and his tortured eyes met mine. “He knew, Gwen.”

  I nodded and leaned into him, felt some of his furious energy ease. “Are you angry with her?” The muscles in his arm twitched and I tilted my head, holding his gaze.

  “No. I’m angry with myself.”

  The rattle of cups and footsteps announced Elizabeth’s return. Connor’s expression tightened for a moment then settled into something akin to resolution. I watched as he stood, took the tray from her and set it on a nearby table. His demeanor silenced her.

  Connor caught her face in his hands and he closed his eyes, fighting for control. “Why him?” he asked, his voice a rough, raw exhale. His lashes lay against his cheeks; his jaw flexed beneath the shadow of a day-old beard. My fingers curled into the cushion and every muscle in my body tensed.

  “I went dancing,” Elizabeth answered, her hands rising to press to his. “He showed up after one too many glasses of wine. It was like old times…”

  “And the second night?” Her eyes flickered to mine, something akin to anger flaring, turning them into a pair of deep blue flames. I met them without remorse.

  Connor held her in his hands, holding her still and close but preventing an embrace, eyes still closed.

  “The second night was a mistake,” she whispered, “more so than the first.” She returned her gaze to him, reaching to press her hands to his face in mirror image of him. His eyes opened and flickered to me. My stomach twisted and I answered the pull of his gaze, rising to step behind Elizabeth.

  “I’m going to resist finding him and making him regret taking advantage of you,” he growled as I fit myself against her back, sliding my arms around her waist, feeling her breath catch at his words and my touch. “He knew I was away, Liz. I know Ian. We have…history.”

  History indeed. His fury when I called had left my ears ringing. Connor had put Elizabeth back together more than once after Ian left her shattered. And she always forgave him. The man knew how to sugarcoat words.

  “Tell me, Liz,” he continued, a fragment of composure threading through his voice, revealing how little he was holding himself together, “how would you feel if you discovered Gwen were with someone other than you and I, or Emma?” Her body jerked, my gut twisted and I wished I could see her expression. “Or if I revealed I’d taken a lover on one of my long trips?” Another lurch of her body and Connor slid his fingers to the back of her neck, threading into her hair.

  His eyes were the color of clouds when tornadoes threaten, an odd green, dangerous. “Tell me, Liz, yes or no, for once, no other words to complicate and obfuscate. Are you mine?”

  Chapter 12

  Absolution

  “Yes.”

  Elizabeth exhaled her reply, little more than air shaped into an answer all three of us knew for truth but had never been acknowledged. Tension flowed from her body, a change of state from solid to liquid, and she melted against him as Connor captured her lips in a kiss so deep and claiming I felt its echoes climb my spine.

  This was not the first time I’d felt a sense of spirituality when the three of us converged; I felt certain it wouldn’t be the last.

  I would have withdrawn, would have slipped back and let this moment belong only to them. My emotions still swirled in a riotous mess over relationships here and home. But Connor slid his hand from the back of Elizabeth’s neck to mine, gripping me in a way that made me feel little more than a cub in a tiger’s mouth, a silent but irrefutable command to stay. I tensed, torn between breaking his hold and flowing into the tangle they made, and he rubbed his thumb in a circle against the side of my neck. He still held her captive with his mouth; I could feel, even scent, her growing desire.

  And yet still the torment of my own heart held me back. Nothing barred me from applying my own lips to her neck, sliding my hands under her blouse, grinding into the back of her. But, as much as I wanted to be here, to surrender to the intensity that never failed to overtake me in their embrace, I couldn’t help but feel that this moment was theirs and mine waited four hours away.

  Connor withdrew from Elizabeth’s lips, drawing a low sigh from her as his lips softened from devouring to the tenderest of touches. When his eyes met mine, I knew he understood, knew he could feel the torment inside me.

  “I’ve got her.” He leaned over her shoulder, pinning our lover between us and kissed me with such gentleness my knees threatened to give way and my eyes prickled with tears. When he pulled back, Elizabeth turned in his arms and brought her hands up to capture my face between them, eyes piercing, searching.

  “Give Emma my love and gratitude,” she said after searching my gaze for an eternal moment. “And call us.”

  My eyes lifted to Connor’s and he nodded, our strange understanding stretching to include this moment. “I will,” I whispered, turning my lips into her palm before stepping out of their embrace. A shudder wracked my body, one of regret and desire and everything these two meant to me twisted up with a nervous, urgent need to leave.

  * * * *

  Night held the world tight in its grasp when I pulled into our driveway at last. My tongue was a swollen moisture starved thing in my mouth and my heart pounded, staccato and syncopated against my ribs. Our bedroom window revealed Emma’s location to me, a golden, beckoning beacon I hoped to answer. With quiet care I made my way into the house, locking the door, leaving my bag in the hall and climbed the stairs. Each step creaked slightly in admonishment.

  ‘How could you leave her?’

  ‘Why did you have to need something else?’

  ‘Do you think she’ll forgive you? Hmm? Leaving her frustrated and wanting?’

  That vicious inner voice tore at me until my chest tightened up like a fist around a sob. And then there was the door to our bedroom, a sliver of light landing at my feet, offering up a path to follow.

  Emma looked up at the sigh of the hinges, eyes widening in the instant before she saw me.

  “Em?” I licked my dry lips, struggling for enough saliva to get my tongue to work. I could only imagine what my face looked like.

  “Gwen.” She slipped from bed and swayed, reaching for the bedpost. The reminder of her weakness shocked me into action and I caught her against me. Her arms curled around my neck; the feel of her body pressing against mine rekindled the desire worry had gnawed away at on the long drive. “What happened?” she asked, fingers slipping into my hair, palm sliding along my jaw.

  The smolder in her eyes was unmistakable and chased my inner undermining demon back into hiding. “I needed to be here,” I answered, leaning down to brush my lips to hers.

  I teased her, played with her lips, her tongue, until her fingers tightened in my hair and she slanted her lips to mine in a kiss somehow rough and adoring at the same time. Each plunge of tongue unearthed another layer of desire, another treasure of want and need. She whimpered when I wrapped my arms around her waist
and lifted; her legs twining around my waist.

  Emma tugged at my shirt, pulling it over my head and pitching it aside; a rush of hot goosebumps raced down my spine. Suddenly I wanted to taste every inch of her as if I’d never done so before, to rediscover her landscape, remap the path to her passion’s completion. I sought out her pulse, sucking at it softly, tasting the jump of it against my tongue.

  “Please, Gwen.” A pleading edge sheered at her voice, her need climbing my spinal cord to fracture across my mind like so many shards of glass. Her hands pulled my lips back to hers and she kissed me with a sharp intensity we’d never shared before. “Please,” she whispered again, lips brushing mine as she stared into my eyes, her brown gaze so dark I couldn’t tell iris from pupil. “I’m not glass,” she rasped, her hips rocking against my stomach, her nightshirt sliding up to let her bareness slide against my flesh. I growled and she nipped at my lip. “I’m not going to break.”

  Her nails raked down my nape and across my spine, shredding the last vestiges of my control. The day had been too long, too fraught with emotion and frustration. I tipped her back onto the bed, climbing after her, between her thighs, yanking her top up and capturing her nipple between my teeth roughly. Emma hissed and arched, twisting as she yanked the fabric over her head and threw it away.

  My fingers slipped between us to delve into the slick heat of her. For the first time I didn’t take it slow, didn’t worship her, make love to her. I fucked into her, using my hips to press my own fingers deep as she twined her legs around me once more, her hands fisted in my hair as I tortured first one nipple then the other.

  Emma gasped and writhed under me, grinding up into my thrusts. We abandoned ourselves to raw need, words surrendered for feral noises of pleasure. Each thrust tightened her muscles around me until I barely moved, my thumb pressed to her clit and fingers rolling against that spot deep inside that made her mewl and keen.