Night Call

by Radclyffe

  “I didn’t come to be entertained.” Jett held out the bag. “There’s coffee in here too. You can take it and close the door. I won’t mind. I know what it’s like to need to be alone.”

  “I don’t need to be alone,” Tristan said way too fast. “What I need could be a problem, though.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jett said softly.

  “You don’t have any idea what I—”

  “Sure I do.” Jett stepped forward, forcing Tristan back inside the apartment. Jett caught the edge of the door on her way in and closed it behind her. Without taking her eyes off Tristan, she set the donuts and coffee down, then straightened and took another step. Only an inch or two separated her body from Tristan’s. “I know what you need, and it’s not a drink. It’s not talking about it. It’s not even sleep.” She slid her hand behind Tristan’s neck and gently gripped a fistful of her hair. She pulled Tristan’s head toward her until she could skim her lips over Tristan’s. It was barely a kiss but Tristan shuddered and grabbed Jett’s hips. “You need it now, but tonight or tomorrow you might think differently.”

  Tristan pressed her forehead to Jett’s shoulder. “How do you…”

  Jett didn’t ask what Tristan meant. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her tightly, caressing the back of her head and massaging her neck. With her lips brushing Tristan’s ear, she murmured, “Been there. Lots of times.”

  “I won’t regret it. I’m not that drunk.” Tristan ran her hands up and down Jett’s back, squeezing the muscles in her shoulders and along her spine. She kissed her neck. “You feel so good.”

  “So do you.” Jett wanted her. Tristan’s need was so naked, so raw, she couldn’t help but want her. Trouble was, she wanted a lot of things where Tristan was concerned, and not all of them made her happy. She wanted to soothe and protect her, but she also hungered to claim her, hard and fast. She was pretty sure Tristan would let her, right this moment.

  Maybe if she hadn’t been with Tristan in the helicopter, hadn’t seen her desperate fight, hadn’t witnessed her anguish, she might have been able to focus only on what they both wanted right now. But Tristan wasn’t some anonymous woman in a nameless bar in a soon-to-be-forgotten town. And she wasn’t the woman she had been, mindlessly seeking solace in the arms of another. She wasn’t giving in to that need again.

  Jett eased away, her hand in Tristan’s hair again, tugging Tristan’s head back. She kissed her, not fleetingly this time, but a deep, probing kiss to stamp the taste of her in her memory. To quench the thirst for just an instant, to savor later when she was alone and the need rode her hard.

  “Let’s lie down on the couch. Let me hold you,” Jett said.

  “I’m climbing out of my skin,” Tristan groaned. “Jesus, I don’t need you to hold me. I need you to fuck me.”

  “Five minutes,” Jett said. “Five minutes, and I will.”

  Tristan grabbed Jett’s hand and dragged Jett toward the couch. When Tristan’s knees hit the edge, she kept going, falling back, pulling her legs up, and Jett stretched out beside her. Jett shifted until she was almost on her back and Tristan lay half on top of her, Tristan’s head nestled on her shoulder. Jett resumed massaging Tristan’s neck and shoulders, using both hands now. Tristan shivered, drawing one leg up until her thigh rode in the vee between Jett’s legs. The sudden pressure detonated a shock wave up Jett’s spine, but she concentrated on Tristan.

  “Close your eyes.” Jett kneaded the knotted muscles at the base of Tristan’s skull.

  “I think about you,” Tristan said, her voice soft and slow. “I think about you inside—”

  “Shh,” Jett whispered. “Tell me later.”

  After a long moment of silence, Tristan said, “What if there isn’t…any later.”

  Jett remembered not being able to count on another day. When any day, every day, could be the last. How the fear became anger, and the anger need. She kissed Tristan’s forehead and continued to stroke her. She didn’t say, there will be time later, because she didn’t know if there would be another day for them. If there was nothing else between them, at least there would be truth.

  When all Jett could hear in the quiet room was the steady tick of her watch and Tristan’s soft breathing, she gently slipped away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jett let herself out of Tristan’s apartment, half hoping as she made her way down the stairs that the apartment door behind her would open and Tristan would call her back. Leaving her had been hard, but not nearly as hard as not touching her. She wasn’t exactly sure why she had held back. Tristan had made it clear what she wanted, and Jett couldn’t deny she had too. She’d been drawn to Tristan from the start, and physical attraction she understood. Every time she saw her, the attraction grew. If she went back upstairs, she wouldn’t resist again. Which was why she kept walking until she was outside. Sex with Tristan wouldn’t be what she was used to—it couldn’t be anonymous, and she wasn’t even sure it could be casual. She knew Tristan. She liked her. She felt for her, watching her struggle with sadness and pain. She cared. Hell.

  When Jett reached the street she found the air already oppressively heavy and hot despite the early hour, but the idea of returning to her apartment to toss and turn held no appeal. For a few seconds she thought about Linda’s invitation to breakfast, then dismissed the idea with a mental laugh. Linda was most likely in bed, either sleeping or making good on her earlier promise to seduce her girlfriend. Besides, Jett didn’t just drop in on people. Like she’d just dropped in on Tristan. She wondered just exactly what was happening to her, because she was behaving less and less like herself every day.

  Disturbed, aroused, she strode rapidly to her Jeep, and then simply walked past. If she got in she’d go home, and that seemed just a little bit like prison today. By the end of the block she was sweating, but she barely noticed the heat. Nothing would ever truly feel hot again after the desert, and working her body was what she needed. Usually she dispelled her mental anxiety and physical tension with aggressive sex, but the fast pace in the broiling sun was almost doing the job—almost. She couldn’t quite shake the sensation of holding Tristan. And she couldn’t forget Tristan asking her, almost begging her, to take her. The encounter had her needing sex, more than she had in a long time. Sex and something more, and the more part scared her.

  Jett’s stomach tightened at the thought of having Tristan beneath her, of making her writhe and cry out with pleasure, of letting go of everything except the sight and sound of Tristan. She couldn’t pretend it was just sex she wanted. She wanted Tristan. She picked up her pace, hardly registering the presence of anyone else until a woman called to her.

  “Hey you,” a familiar voice said. “Hungry already?”

  Jett slowed and noted exactly where she was for the first time in blocks. To her left lay the playing fields where Linda had brought her the night she’d driven her home from the hospital. And coming across the grass toward her was Mandy, a self-satisfied smile on her face. Jett wondered, as she watched Mandy’s breasts rise and fall beneath her tight white T-shirt, if she’d come here with the subconscious intention of finding what she needed. Mandy had said she’d come looking for her when she got needy, and here she was.

  “I’ve got T-ball practice in a few minutes,” Mandy said, rising on her tiptoes to kiss Jett quickly. “But after that you could definitely talk me into leaving early.”

  “Hi.” Jett stepped back a pace. “Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?”

  “Sure I would. I’d also believe you’ve got an itch that I know just how to scratch.”

  Jett laughed, because Mandy had her number—as far as Mandy knew. “Several of them, probably. But not today.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Jett shook her head.

  “You mean you actually are just in the neighborhood?”

  Jett nodded.

  “Well, all right.” Mandy traced her fingers down the center of Jett’s chest. “Since you’re
here, we should still make the most of it.” She studied Jett through narrowed eyes. “Let me guess. You haven’t had any recreation to speak of since the last time we were together.” She ran her fingernail along the edge of Jett’s jaw and Jett jerked back. Mandy chuckled. “Mmm, yeah, and you are very ready for some fun.”

  Jett wasn’t going to deny it. The lie would show. “I’m still going to pass.”

  “Why?” Mandy sounded genuinely confused. “You had a good time. I had a good time. We understand each other. That’s unusual and not something to just throw away.”

  “I know.” Jett slid her hands into her pockets and watched the children run up and down the field shouting exuberantly. She tried to remember when her life had stopped being simple and spontaneous. When she was their age, maybe, maybe younger. About the time she realized she was different, and others noticed too. “You make it sound simple. I’m not sure why it isn’t.”

  “When sex stops being about sex, it gets complicated.” Mandy tapped Jett’s chin teasingly. “I’m not interested in complicated. I didn’t think you were, either.” She leaned close but didn’t touch Jett again. “What I’m interested in is you doing what you did to me last time. More than once and in many different ways.”

  Jett thought about Tristan, about her pain and how much she’d wanted to ease it. She thought about how much she’d wanted her, and she couldn’t tell if the two were connected. Gail had been one of the few women in her life who she’d had feelings for, and when her feelings got twisted up with her desires, she’d suffered for it. Maybe mixing sex with caring just didn’t work for her. Mandy was watching her, waiting. Mandy wanted simple. That she could do.

  “You’re right,” Jett said. “I’m not interested in complicated. I’m just not as ready as you think I am right now.”

  “You’ll call me when you are.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “Maybe. I’m not making any promises.”

  Mandy smiled and kissed the tip of her finger, then pressed it to Jett’s mouth. “I wasn’t asking for any.”

  *

  Tristan sat on the edge of the couch trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. She was so used to being awakened during the night by a phone call informing her of some emergency, and needing to be instantly awake and alert, that even the alcohol she’d consumed couldn’t suppress her natural reflexes. The quiet click of her apartment door closing behind Jett had been enough to rouse her. Her first instinct had been to go after her, and then her rational mind caught up to her libido and some sanity returned. She was out of control where Jett was concerned. She needed to get a grip.

  Head still fuzzy from lack of sleep and the scotch, Tristan stumbled into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped in after leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor. She twisted the dial to cool and washed her hair and body, waking herself up and clearing the cobwebs from her mind. After briskly toweling off, brushing her teeth, and downing a glass of orange juice, she pulled on nearly threadbare jeans, deck shoes, and a light blue short-sleeved shirt. Feeling more human, if not quite herself, she stepped out onto the back porch and leaned against the railing. Finally, she let herself replay the few minutes with Jett.

  She saw herself folding into Jett, letting herself be held, letting herself be soothed when what she wanted—at least, what she’d thought she’d wanted—was a different sort of comfort. From the signals her body was still sending, despite the shower, a big part of her had definitely wanted sex. She was still vibrating from the sexual charge of Jett’s hands on her neck, in her hair, coursing over her back. She smelled Jett’s skin, tangy and rich, and recalled the long, hard planes of her body and the surprising softness of her breasts when Jett had embraced her.

  After the catastrophic night she’d had, her guard might have been down, but she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she wanted Jett to fuck her. That was exactly what she’d wanted then, and having a clearer head now didn’t change her mind. She couldn’t deny it any more than she could quite explain it.

  Until the last few weeks, Tristan had been accustomed to being in charge when she was with a woman, and that’s how she liked it. No surprises, no disappointments—for anyone. But Jett called to a completely new and different part of her, one she was only beginning to embrace. She craved Jett’s solid strength, thrilled to the hardness of her body, and hungered for that intense, dark gaze and all it promised. She wanted, perhaps had always wanted, to be the singular focus of that kind of intense passion.

  “Why not just admit it,” Tristan muttered to herself. “You want her to do to you what she was doing to Mandy.” She shook her head. She couldn’t see herself as Mandy, but she could see herself opening to Jett, taking her in, taking her deep, and the idea downright terrified her as much as it turned her on.

  One thing she was clear about. She needed to see her. Jett had come to her with the offer of friendship, and she’d been too fucked up to appreciate it, or to thank her. She needed to fix that right now.

  Tristan was halfway down the stairs before she realized she didn’t know where Jett lived. God damn it. She stopped, considering her options. The hospital might page Jett for her, but they wouldn’t give Tristan her home number. Neither would the business office. And what if Jett wasn’t wearing her beeper or had turned it off? Tristan didn’t want to wait. Couldn’t wait. She had to see her.

  Linda. Linda must know how to reach her. Tristan took the rest of the stairs two at a time and shoved through her front door. She sprinted toward the sidewalk, then slowed when she saw Jett’s Jeep parked a few houses away. At least she thought it was Jett’s.

  If Jett was still around, where was she? Who had she gone to see? Mandy lived in the neighborhood somewhere. The thought of Jett with Mandy, holding her, caressing her, made Tristan’s head ache. The idea of Jett going to Mandy for what she hadn’t found with Tristan made her half crazy. Tristan forgot all about her destination while she tortured herself with images of Jett backing Mandy up against a tree, kissing her, dominating her, taking her the way Tristan had wanted to be taken. She groaned aloud.

  “Tristan?”

  The picture of Jett and Mandy dissolved and the world snapped back into Technicolor focus. Tristan turned and Jett was there.

  “Hi,” Tristan said.

  “Hi.” Jett shot her a half grin. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?”

  “I heard you leave.”

  “Sorry.” Jett ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “I probably shouldn’t have come over. Company was probably the last thing you nee—”

  “Wrong.” Tristan kissed her, then moved back quickly before Jett could touch her. She didn’t trust herself if Jett touched her. “That’s for the coffee and doughnuts. Thanks.”

  Jett’s eyes were hungry as they swept over Tristan’s face. “Next time I’ll bring sandwiches.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Tristan said, determined not to let her get away. She didn’t want her out of her sight. “Let’s get out of here.” She pulled her keys from her pocket and gestured to her Saab, parked two cars behind Jett’s Jeep. “I’ve got a place an hour from here in the mountains. It will be at least ten degrees cooler up there.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jett said, her voice low and gravelly.

  “I’ve got to be back tomorrow for practice at two.”

  “I’m flying tomorrow night,” Jett said.

  “I’ll have you back by one at the latest.”

  “I need to shower, change clothes.”

  “No, you don’t. I woke up thinking about the way you smell. The way your skin tastes.” Tristan moved into Jett again, sliding her hand over Jett’s shoulder and down her arm. “You’re just fine the way you are.”

  Jett grabbed Tristan’s hand. “What are you do—”

  “Hey, Tristan!” Arly came racing up, nearly colliding with them as she skidded to a stop. “Quinn’s sleeping, but my mom is taking me to the park for practice. Are you coming?”

  Tri
stan eased back from Jett and smiled at Arly. “Not today, sport. I’m the Saturday coach, remember?”

  “I know,” Arly said, “but sometimes Quinn—”

  Honor caught up to Arly and put her hand on top of her head. “Honey, Tristan might have other plans for today. Hi, Tris.” She held out her hand to Jett. “I saw you at Linda’s party, but never got a chance to talk to you. I’m Honor Blake.”

  “Jett McNally.”

  “I know. Linda flies with you and can’t stop talking about how great it is.” Honor frowned. “I’d appreciate it if you stay away from the rest of the ER nurses.”

  Jett was silent for a second and then laughed when Honor’s frown turned into a warm smile. “Quinn already warned me about that. I promise the ER is officially a no-fly zone.”

  “Oh, I can see exactly why Linda left,” Honor said with a shake of her head. “You’re slick.”

  “Yeah, she’s got a way about her,” Tristan said, grinning at Jett. “How are you feeling, Honor? And how is Jack?”

  “He’s great. He’s with his grandmother right now.” Honor took Arly’s hand. “We are having a play date while Quinn sleeps in. I needed to get out for a while. If I walk slowly I don’t feel a day over eighty.”

  “Can I drop you somewhere?” Tristan asked.

  “You two look like you were headed out. And we’re doing fine,” Honor said.

  “We’re headed up to the mountains,” Tristan said, casting a sideways glance at Jett.

  “Nice. Have a great time.” Honor tugged on Arly’s hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s go to the park.”

  Arly went with her mother, walking backward a few steps, her gaze riveted to Tristan. “What about Saturday’s practice? We have that big game next week and Quinn said she might have to work that day.”