by Heidi Lowe
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"I don't care."
"You won't accept my apology?" This seemed to shock her.
"Why should I?"
"Because...because it comes from the heart. Because I mean it." She stood up so that we were face to face, like she wanted me to see the sincerity in her eyes. I saw it but it didn't change anything.
"You know what I think? I think you feel it, too. Right here." I pressed my palm to her chest, over her heart. But instead of removing it immediately, I left it there, half cupping her breast. "And this whole show of remorse, your sudden need to apologize, that's your way of saying you want me to turn around and take it again. Right? You want me with my cheek pressed to a wall while you screw me from behind, without looking at me, because looking at me would bring on the guilt."
She shook her head, held my gaze. "I don't want to screw you again...I want to make love to you, the way I should have the first night."
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words sprang forth. By making that distinction between the two acts, she'd inadvertently bared her heart to me. She didn't just want rough, throwaway sex, she wanted to make love.
My intention had been to never give this woman another thought, another chance. But this changed everything. Didn't it? I had to believe that.
She kissed me first, and I pulled away quickly, startled. Not for long, however. Tasting her kiss, as sweet as the first one we had, I needed more – everything she had to offer.
I practically tore the clothes from her body in my rush to get her naked. She extended the same treatment to me, and took the lead by shoving me to the bed and climbing on top of me.
Her body seemed new and exciting, even though I had the same parts. She let my hands rove and roam across her body, get better acquainted with the terrain. It took me a moment to realize that I was trembling. Buck naked, straddled by a beautiful woman, whose eyes promised to rock my world, I was justified in finding the whole thing intimidating.
She kissed me slowly, more passionately than I'd ever experienced, and with that kiss settled my nerves.
Her first stop on her descent of my body was my breasts, which she took hungrily into her mouth, one by one. They both received equal attention, and by the time she released them and moved on, my nipples were sore and red, but a little discomfort for a whole lot of pleasure was a good trade off.
Each kiss she laid on her way farther south filled me with trepidation. She looked up at me and I peered down at her as she made her descent into my nether region. Still holding my gaze, she parted my legs then dived in mouth first.
There wasn't a region of my vagina her tongue didn't explore that night. Every corner, places I didn't know existed. She drank me up, swallowed me down, and then spent the rest of her time down there working on my bean. At which point my writhing and bucking grew more aggressive. I prayed the walls were thick enough to keep my beastly moans and cries contained. Thank God her mother's suite wasn't next door.
"God, that feels amazing," I murmured, pulling at my hair while her tongue did gymnastics on my bean.
She spent forever down there, always bringing me close but never close enough to expire completely. And when she'd filled herself with my sap, she came up to meet me and kiss me, neglecting to wipe me off her lips. I didn't care. We kissed and kissed, and she entered me with her fingers while her tongue wrestled with mine. Kissing and pounding, she caught my cries in her mouth.
My final cry as I climaxed was swallowed up by her, too. When I opened my eyes, eyes I didn't realize were closed, she was smiling down at me.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," I breathed, exhausted and feeling the shocks of my orgasm still sparking my body.
She rewarded me with a long, sensual kiss that I never wanted to end.
"That's how I wanted you," I said. "Just like that."
There was a melancholy in her eyes, behind her smile. Did she already regret it – me?
"You regret it, don't you?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Then why do you look so upset?"
"Because I wasn't prepared for how right you would feel. I never thought anyone could feel this perfect."
I knew exactly what she meant. Compatibility, except it went much deeper than that. Was this the feeling that you got when you met your soul mate? Could we really have found that in each other? I'd come to England to be with my boyfriend, and in doing so had found my kindred spirit in his sister. It sounded too bizarre to believe.
She became tearful once again, and all I could do was hold her while she wept. Wept because, despite her best efforts, she'd fallen for her brother's girlfriend.
When I stirred awake later that night, I found Scarlett sitting on the edge of the bed. We'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, and I'd prayed we would wake up that way, too.
I crawled across the king-size bed to her, kissed her naked back, kissed the queen of diamonds tattoo. Our clothes lay in piles on the floor by her feet.
When she didn't move or respond, my heart sank. I was afraid this would happen, that she would reject me once she'd come to her senses.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, kissed her neck, my fear of rejection making my body tremble. Not now, not after our beautiful night of love-making. The joining of souls; a night of passion so raw and real that nothing else had mattered to either of us in that moment: not my perceived straightness, nor betraying her brother.
Then she pressed her hands over mine and twisted her head to kiss me. I breathed the biggest sigh of relief when I felt her lips against mine. She wanted to be here with me, in spite of everything.
"I thought I'd lost you there for a minute," I said when we crawled back into bed. I lay in her arms, the little spoon to her bigger one. "I thought you regretted it."
"I don't. Maybe I should, but I don't. That makes me a terrible person."
If she was, that made me one, too. As horrible as it felt to hurt Marcus, being with her, sharing the deepest, most primal connection, a connection I had never before experienced with anyone, was more important.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
"Anything."
"Susan wasn't your first, was she?" I knew the answer before she said it. The way she made love to me, the skill and precision and intensity she'd displayed, that had been years in the making. She had to have been honing those skills for ages.
"Not even close."
"Are you gay?"
Her long, loud sigh was telling. "Yes." This was a truth she'd obviously been battling with for some time. Maybe she'd never admitted it to herself until now.
"And what about the men? Patrick? Eric?" Inside, my heart jumped for joy. The suave, handsome, accomplished Dr. Patrick with the golden locks and perfect jawline had never been a threat. Whatever they were to each other couldn't compare to what she and I now were. The child in me wanted to stick my tongue out at him and tell him that he'd lost.
"The men allow me to pretend, albeit temporarily, that I don't love women."
I turned to face her, confused by this revelation. Granted, I didn't know much about sexuality outside of what I thought I was, but wasn't the whole idea in being a lesbian that you didn't sleep with men?
"How do you feel about sleeping with men?"
She gave a little laugh. "Well, I've never actually slept with one, not in the literal sense. It never got that far. I could never bring myself to."
It was only when she said, "Why do you find that amusing?" that I realized I was grinning.
"So you and Patrick...and Eric, they didn't...?"
She shook her head. "We did other things, but not that. Okay, now you really have to tell me why you're smiling like that."
Elated, overcome with joy, I climbed on top of her and kissed her like never before, making her giggle like a kid.
"No reason," I said, not able to put into words why it pleased me to hear all of this.
"I think," she said, pushing my hair behind my ears, "
that you were jealous. Perhaps not of Eric, but I certainly noticed it when Patrick was around."
"I was jealous," I said simply, unashamed. "Of both of them, even before I knew..."
She kissed me so I wouldn't have to say it; so she wouldn't have to hear it. Neither of us was ready to exchange those words, to admit it out loud, even though we both knew that was what we felt.
Her eyes had that melancholy glow to them again, and I just wanted to kiss away all her worries. But my kisses were what had gotten us into this mess in the first place.
"We go back home in the morning..." she said.
"I know. Where do we go from there?"
She sighed. "I don't know."
Neither did I. But one thing was for sure: everything had changed, and there was no going back to the way things were.
THIRTEEN
A sense of dread came over me as Scarlett pulled into the driveway of the Rutherford-Manning house and Marcus's beaming face came into view. He'd gotten something of a haircut, or more like a hair trim. His black beanie and waistcoat combo gave him that good boy trying to be a rebel look, which only served to make him seem younger than he was.
"Boy have I missed you," he said, not giving me time to step fully out of the backseat of the car. He practically yanked me out, and crushed me in a hug that had me fighting for breath.
"Whoa, easy," I said, laughing and trying to pry myself free – free from his embrace, and from the kiss. He wouldn't let up until he'd secured one of each.
The car doors behind me slammed shut, reminding us that we weren't alone. As if I could have forgotten. Fiona fixed her shawl around her shoulders, gave us both the warmest, most encouraging smile, then headed toward the house. It was Scarlett's reaction that worried me, however.
"Hey, sis, did you look after my girlfriend for me like I asked you to?" he said, arm draped around my waist – territorially. I wanted to die in that moment, as Scarlett eyed us with the most curious expression. Only a few hours earlier we'd lain in each other's arms, after having perhaps the best, most intense sex of my life. And now here I was, in the arms of her brother once more. A reminder to us all that I was his, officially, and no matter which way we looked at it, how in love we thought we were, there was no way of doing this without hurting him.
She smiled. It seemed genuine, too. How did she do that? "I did. We had a good time, didn't we, Jenna?"
I gulped, then said quietly, looking down at the floor, because I couldn't look at either of them, "Yeah, we did."
"Well, you've had her long enough. I'll take it from here." He took my hand in his then led me away. I risked a glance back at her, but her face was neutral as she watched us leave. My only hope was that she hadn't changed her mind about me; about us.
I wiped the water from my mouth after brushing my teeth for the night. In the mirror, I could see Marcus in his boxers and nothing else, lounging on the bed, flicking through a magazine. Panic set in. Would he expect me to perform my girlfriend duties and put out like a good girlfriend should? The thought of being with him like that again sickened me. Not only because the memory of his sister was still so fresh in my mind, but because...well, I knew whatever he had to offer wouldn't satisfy me. Not after I'd tasted the forbidden fruit. A fruit that I hadn't known I wanted until Scarlett came on the scene. Now it was all I could think about. There were probably a million different things we could do together, and I wanted to explore them all. I didn't want what was waiting for me in the next room. I didn't want him.
"What do you think about catamarans? I was thinking of getting one." He dabbed his finger at a picture of a boat in his magazine when I slipped into bed. "Norman says I can get one for my twenty-third birthday."
I nodded, not paying much attention to it, or him, though paying particular attention to the rapidly depleting space between us in the bed.
He looked at me. "Do you like it?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. It just looks like a boat to me."
He laughed. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing. Tired." I lay down and pulled the covers over myself, stealthily inching away from him so that there was no skin to skin contact.
He tossed the magazine away, then turned his attentions on me, drifting closer and kissing my neck. "Did I tell you how much I missed you?" His voice was a whisper that sent a shiver down my spine, and not in a good way. My initial reaction was to flinch a little upon his touch. He didn't seem to notice, because he continued kissing the back of my neck, and rubbing my shoulder until the strap of my nightgown slipped down. Why did his touch feel so fumbling and immature? Why did he all of a sudden make my skin crawl? Was it that it felt like I was being unfaithful to Scarlett?
"Marcus, not tonight, all right? I just want to sleep."
That didn't stop him. My aggressive shove did, however.
"What's your problem?" He glowered at me like a wounded animal.
"I said I want to sleep. What bit of that don't you understand?"
With one final glare, he twisted away, turned his back to me, then switched off his lamp. I listened to his furious breathing until it smoothed out and fell into the steady, less angry rhythm of sleep. And then I lay there, still, annoyed with myself for having gotten into this predicament. My thoughts drifted to Scarlett, all alone in that annexe apartment. Would she expect me to come and see her, or would she already hate me for driving her to hurt her brother? I didn't want to risk finding out, so stayed there that night and ignored the urge telling me to go to her.
We didn't see each other for three days. She didn't come to breakfast or dinner, and Marcus filled our days with activities so that we were out of the house during the day. That told me everything I needed to know about what she thought of me now: I was a pariah, something to be avoided.
When he left me alone for five minutes, I cried in the nearest bathroom. Silent sobs drowned out by the running tap. This was what heartbreak felt like, and it stung like a bitch! I'd fallen so hard, so fast, and now I was paying the price. The person I wanted was avoiding me, and the one I didn't want, well, he had grown clingy. Like a rash that you simply couldn't get rid of. Funny how apparent all of his flaws were now.
Having resigned myself to the fact that Scarlett wanted nothing more to do with me, I tried to make the most of my holiday and enjoy whatever trips Marcus planned for us. For three days I managed to do that, though inside I bawled the whole time.
And then she walked into the dining room one morning, curly hair bouncing, the brightest smile plastered on her face. My heart melted to nothing. She was so effortlessly beautiful it hurt to look at her. And it hurt even more when she failed to even give me the slightest bit of recognition.
"Good morning, all," she said, and took a seat beside her father.
"We were beginning to think you'd forgotten about us, love," Norman said, receiving a kiss on the cheek from his only daughter. His face always lit up like a tomato whenever she kissed him. I knew exactly what it felt like to have such a kiss bestowed upon me.
"I've been busy drafting a contract for a friend. You know what I'm like when I start something – I never find time to eat or sleep. But it's all finished now. I can return to some semblance of a normal life, whatever that means."
"Normal for you, Scarlett, is finding more work to bury your head in," Marcus said, chuckling in that pompous way he did. "Or do you have plans with Patrick?"
Hearing the name made my blood boil, and I quickly looked at her to gauge her reaction.
"None of your business," she teased, remaining coy as she spread strawberry jelly (or as they liked to call it here, jam) on her toast. "I'm going to spend some time with my horses. They get antsy when they're not being ridden. Jenna, what do you think? Are you ready to get back on a horse? You're more than welcome to join me this afternoon."
Her question made me choke on my coffee. It was the casual way she presented it, as though I was anyone, and we hadn't boned a few days prior. But more than that was her acknowledgment of me
.
Marcus patted me on the back, finding my reaction hilarious. "Are you all right there?"
"I'm fine," I mumbled. Scarlett watched me with fascination, and bit into her toast seductively. How she made eating toast look sexy was beyond my comprehension. How I wanted to be that piece of toast...
"Are you sure it's a good idea, I mean, after what happened last time?" Marcus asked.
"Well, that's what people do, son, dust themselves off and try all over again," Norman offered.
"I agree," Scarlett said. Placing a hand on her heart, she added, "I promise to take better care of her this time." Her eyes glistened with relish, teasing me. The warm, throbbing feeling between my legs came as no surprise upon seeing that look. She was toying with me.
"If you don't have a problem with it, then I don't," I said, aiming for nonchalance.
The rest of my breakfast didn't go down without me wanting to throw it all back up. Nerves had taken over. I was certain she planned to tell me that we could never see each other again, and that I was the biggest mistake of her life. I braced myself for it.
The scuffle of my shoes on the stable ground made her turn around and see me standing at the entrance. She was putting on her helmet, already dressed in her riding gear. I'd seen this woman naked, very naked, and yet even fully clothed she looked more sexy than ever. A tight ass packed into the most clinging green jodhpurs. She must have known how hot she looked, how mind-bogglingly irresistible she was to all around her.
"Get changed," was all she said, and I went to find some spare clothes in the store room. I didn't change in front of her, though felt pretty stupid for not doing so. She, too, had seen me at my most bare, warts and all. If I concentrated hard enough, I could probably feel her inside me, too – at least the memory of her.
"Scarlett," I said, once I emerged from the store room. She was already leading the two horses out of the stable.
"Pairing you with Paddington again isn't wise, so you can ride Tabitha today."
