Turn Back Time

by Radclyffe

  She hadn’t even realized she’d cursed aloud until Tammy laughed. Wynter smiled wryly and said, “Nothing lasts forever—even pain.”

  “It just feels like it does,” Tammy said with a sigh. “If you hear from her, tell her I…we miss her.”

  “Sure.” Wynter wondered why Tammy thought she would be the one to hear, but she nodded. Tell her I miss her. She was too tired to be jealous. Almost too tired to miss Pearce. Almost.

  By six o’clock in the morning she was functioning on autopilot. She’d never gotten to bed, never closed her eyes again after the few minutes in the lounge with Tammy. It was just one of those nights where the emergency cases and traumas never stopped coming, and all she could do was forget that anything else in the world existed except the next crisis. The hospital was the universe, the operating room her only reality. When her beeper went off just as she reached the coffee in the cafeteria line, she contemplated tossing it into the trash. She glanced at the readout and saw that it was the page operator, which usually meant an outside call. Heart racing, thinking that Mina was calling about a problem with Ronnie, she left her tray on the track in front of the commercial coffee urns and hurried to the nearest phone.

  “Dr. Thompson,” she said briskly when the operator answered.

  “I’ve got an outside call for you, Doctor. Hold please.”

  Wynter heard a series of clicks. Then her heart leapt again at the sound of the rich, slightly husky voice.

  “Wynter?”

  “Pearce?”

  “I thought I’d try to catch you before the OR.”

  Wynter turned her back to the cafeteria and leaned against the wall, much more awake than she had been just a few minutes before. “How are you doing?”

  “Just finished the night from hell.”

  “You too? Was it a full moon?”

  Pearce chuckled. “Must’ve been.”

  “How’s it going out there?”

  “Not bad. Standard community hospital stuff. Busy.”

  “That’s good.”

  Silence stretched until Wynter feared the connection had been broken. “Pearce?”

  “You’re on call again Saturday, right?”

  “Yes,” Wynter replied, confused. “But I—”

  “I want to see you. Friday night?”

  Despite the tightening in her stomach and the rapid flurry in her chest, Wynter tried to be rational. “Aren’t you on call Saturday too?”

  “Not until eight o’clock in the morning.”

  “It’s too far for you to drive back here after work Friday and then get back there in the morning.” Wynter closed her eyes, remembering Pearce as she’d last seen her, dressed in black, her eyes even darker. She’d wanted to kiss her but she hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted that final proof of their parting when Pearce said goodbye with the kiss still lingering on her lips. “I’m so glad you called.”

  “I miss you.”

  “Oh, I miss you too.”

  “So I’ll see you Friday.”

  “Pearce,” Wynter murmured. “I want to see you. I do. But I already told Mina and Ken I’d watch the kids—”

  “I should be out of here by six, so I’ll see you about eight. I’ll help.”

  Wynter laughed, ridiculously happy. “Help what?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever it is you do with them. The kids.”

  “Janie’s got a sleepover with her friends. The little ones will be in bed. Probably asleep.”

  Pearce’s voice dropped even lower. “All the better. See you, Doc.”

  “See you,” Wynter whispered. When she hung up, she wasn’t tired any longer. She also realized that the dull ache she’d carried in the center of her chest for two days was gone.

  *

  “Have a good time,” Wynter said as she stood in the front foyer watching Ken and Mina bundle into their coats. Despite the fact that Mina was heavily pregnant, she was determined to attend her sister Chloe’s tenth wedding anniversary party, arguing that she could just as easily sit on Chloe’s couch as her own.

  “I should be saying the same to you,” Mina whispered as she passed. “If you don’t want me waking you up in the morning, just leave a T-shirt hanging on your doorknob. In case you have overnight company.”

  Wynter blushed. “Don’t be silly. I’m sure Pearce will be so tired by the time she gets here we’ll fall asleep watching a movie. Just wake us up if you find us drooling somewhere.”

  “Uh-huh. We’ll be quiet when we come in just the same.” Mina glanced toward the street as a car pulled to the curb. “Looks like your date is here.”

  Ken glanced at Wynter, then craned his neck toward the street. He gave a small grunt of surprise when Pearce slid out from the driver’s side. “I guess I missed something.”

  “That’s because you’re always a few weeks behind on the news.” Mina put her arm around his waist and steered him onto the porch and toward the stairs. “Never mind, handsome. Let’s go to the party.”

  “Night, Wynter,” Ken called over his shoulder as Mina tugged him along. He nodded to Pearce as she passed.

  Wynter heard Pearce mutter hello as she took the stairs two at a time and crossed the porch with long strides. She was in jeans, her leather jacket, and a scrub shirt. Even in the dim porch light, Wynter could make out the smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes. When Pearce stopped just at the threshold, searching Wynter’s face with a question in her eyes, Wynter wrapped both arms around Pearce’s shoulders and pressed her mouth to Pearce’s.

  Pearce gave a shuddering groan and gathered her close.

  The kiss echoed with longing as much as desire, and Wynter sensed sadness and uncertainty in the way Pearce’s hands moved over her back. It was as if Pearce wasn’t sure she was real.

  “It’s all right.”

  “Is it?” Pearce’s voice was harsh, gritty with fatigue and confusion. She rested her forehead against Wynter’s and closed her eyes. “I don’t know anymore.”

  “Then come inside and let’s find out.”

  Wynter took Pearce’s gloveless hand, finding it cold and stiff, and folded her warm fingers around it. “Have you eaten?”

  “Breakfast.”

  “How does soup and a sandwich sound?”

  “I’m not really hungry. Where are the kids?”

  “They’re already in bed. And you need to eat.” Wynter closed the door behind them and then grasped the front of Pearce’s jacket. She was concerned that Pearce seemed disoriented, and then she recognized what others often saw in her. Deadly fatigue. “Take this off.”

  Pearce shrugged out of the heavy leather and rolled her shoulders. The house was warm, welcoming, and for the first time all week, the tension in her neck and back eased. She grasped Wynter’s hand again, needing the contact, fearing that she might disappear between one breath and the next. The week had been endless. She still didn’t understand how she had come to find herself in a strange town, in a strange hospital, surrounded by strangers. She hadn’t been able to sleep in a strange bed. She missed Wynter. Her only recourse had been to lose herself in the things that she knew best, and she’d prowled the emergency room until late into the night, every night, looking for something to occupy her mind and take away her loneliness.

  “I’ll only be a minute,” Wynter said as she led Pearce to the sofa, watching her carefully. She looked so drawn, so defeated, that all Wynter wanted was to hold her. “Okay? I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay. Sure.” Pearce shook her head and smiled as she settled into the corner of the sofa. “You sure I can’t help?”

  Wynter laughed. “Not much skill required.” She leaned down and kissed Pearce again. “God, it’s good to see you.”

  Before Wynter could straighten, Pearce caught her around the waist and pulled her down into her lap. Wynter ended up with her legs pulled up onto the sofa and her arms around Pearce’s neck. Pearce pressed her face into the curve of Wynter’s shoulder, her mouth open and questing against Wynter’s throat.

&nb
sp; “Oh, baby, what?” Wynter whispered, stroking the back of Pearce’s neck. She kissed her forehead. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t think I can take it anymore.” Pearce lifted her head, her eyes dark with misery. “I’m so fucked up. I don’t want to go back.”

  Wynter caught her breath. She stroked Pearce’s cheek. “You’re tired. Did you sleep at all this week?”

  “Some. A little. I don’t know.”

  “Have you talked with your father?”

  Pearce laughed, the bitter sound of hopelessness. “What can I say? That I can’t take it? That I can’t cut it?” She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Wynter’s shoulder. “You know what he always told me, since I was a kid?”

  “What, baby?”

  “God hates a coward.”

  Wynter was familiar with the phrase. It was another surgical mantra, another phrase designed to create confidence and conviction in the face of uncertainty. It worked for adults in the midst of a crisis, but for a child it would be an unbearable burden. “You are one of the bravest people I’ve ever known.”

  “No. That’s what you are. You stood up to him.”

  “Pearce—”

  “You did.” Pearce tilted her head back and opened her eyes. She brushed her fingers over Wynter’s mouth. “You know what I thought about all week?”

  “What?” Wynter’s voice was low and rough, the blood heavy in her veins as arousal coursed through her.

  “The way you taste.” Slowly, Pearce ran her tongue along the edge of Wynter’s jaw and down her neck.

  Wynter gasped.

  “The way you feel.” Pearce caught the delicate skin just above Wynter’s collarbone in her teeth and sucked.

  Wynter made a small keening sound.

  “The way you tremble when you come.” Pearce teased the back of Wynter’s blouse from her jeans and slid her hand beneath it. She walked her fingers up Wynter’s spine and fanned her fingers between her shoulder blades, holding her captive as she kissed her. Gently at first, then deeper, harder, unable to get far enough inside her to fill her own empty places. She froze when she heard Wynter cry out and jerked away, groaning. “God. Did I hurt you?”

  “No. No, baby, no.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “I do,” Wynter whispered. “I’m falling in love with you.” She stood, her legs trembling but her face calm and strong. She took Pearce’s hand. “Come upstairs.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Wynter draped a T-shirt she grabbed from a nearby chair over the doorknob, gently closed the bedroom door, and led Pearce to the bed.

  “Where are the kids?” Pearce whispered as Wynter switched on a soft night-light.

  “They’re down the hall. They won’t wake up. Don’t worry.” Wynter kissed her softly. “And if they do, we’ll hear them.”

  “What about Mina and Ken?”

  “This is my old room—the guest room. Theirs is at the other end, on the far side of the kids. We’re alone—more or less.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “Very.” Wynter smiled and tugged Pearce’s scrub shirt from her jeans. “Raise your arms.” When Pearce did, she pulled the shirt off over her head along with the white cotton tank top she wore beneath. Looking down, she faltered, a fist of need tightening in the pit of her stomach. She contented herself with brushing her fingers across Pearce’s chest, when what she wanted was to lower her mouth to her breasts. She forced her fingers to open the top button on Pearce’s jeans.

  Pearce followed Wynter’s movements, her breath hitching unevenly. The briefest glance of Wynter’s fingers against her bare stomach made her muscles tighten, and she was instantly wet. “Should I worry that you’re undressing me like you do Ronnie?”

  “Trust me,” Wynter said, her voice as thick as warm honey, “there is no similarity.” She hooked her fingers around the denim and sat on the edge of the bed as she pulled the jeans down. “Boots.”

  Thighs suddenly trembling, Pearce steadied herself with a hand on Wynter’s shoulder and kicked off the boots and her jeans along with them. When Wynter leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against Pearce’s lower abdomen, Pearce shivered.

  “Cold?” Wynter murmured, kissing Pearce’s stomach before gliding her tongue just inside the small, tight circle of her navel.

  “No,” Pearce said hoarsely. She threaded her fingers into Wynter’s hair and locked her knees to keep from falling.

  “Your skin is always so hot.” Wynter played her hands up and down Pearce’s back before cradling her hips in her palms. She dipped her head and traced her tongue along the trough where lean thigh joined taut abdomen, then skimmed her lips over the silky triangle between Pearce’s thighs to trace the other juncture as well. “I could get drunk on the scent of you.” She kissed lower, tasting the first hint of desire on the very tip of her tongue.

  “Christ,” Pearce moaned, tilting her hips forward as her fists tightened in Wynter’s hair. “I need your mouth.”

  “Do you?” Wynter’s question was filled with wonder and supreme satisfaction. She teased her way along the hard core of Pearce’s clitoris for an instant, and then stopped. “Hmm?” She glanced up quickly, not wanting to stop, but not wanting it to end. She loved feeling Pearce grow rigid beneath her hands, hard against her lips. She loved knowing that she was the cause of Pearce’s pleasure. The last time, Pearce had led and she had followed. She reached up and fanned her fingers over Pearce’s breast. “Tell me what you need.”

  Pearce nearly sobbed as she looked down, her face tight with need. “I want to be with you. I need…to be with you.”

  It wasn’t what Wynter had expected, and her insides twisted with how much she wanted to take away the pain she heard in Pearce’s voice. She brushed her fingers up the inner slope of Pearce’s thigh, then gently parted her. “I’m here.” She played her tongue over swollen tissues and heard Pearce hiss in a breath. “Right here.” She sucked her carefully, aware of the distant sound of labored breathing and low, guttural moans. She kept her strokes light and slow, not wanting her to come. It was too perfect. Too unbelievably special for it to be over too quickly.

  “Wynter,” Pearce gasped. “Let me come.”

  “I will,” Wynter whispered, kissing her one last time. Then she stood and kissed Pearce’s mouth. “Let’s go to bed and I’ll put you to sleep.”

  “You make me want you so bad.”

  “Good.” Wynter unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall. She kissed Pearce again. “I want to make you come. I want you to want me everywhere. All the time.” She unbuttoned her slacks. “I want to make you mine.”

  Pearce swayed, fatigue replaced by a desperate urge to lose herself in Wynter’s arms. “What you said before…about loving me?”

  Wynter halted in the midst of hurriedly shedding her clothes and met Pearce’s gaze. “Yes.”

  “Does that make you happy?”

  “Oh yes.” Wynter caressed Pearce’s cheek. “Oh yes.” She pulled back the covers, slid under, and held out her hand. “Come.”

  Pearce followed, settling on her back with a sigh. “I missed you so much.”

  “Last weekend, I was afraid I’d lost you,” Wynter murmured, moving over Pearce. She straddled her thigh, pressing her leg high up between Pearce’s. “You’re so wet. I love to do that to you.”

  “I love what you do to me.” Pearce skimmed her mouth over Wynter’s. “I need you inside me. Please, Wynter.”

  Wynter grew dizzy as Pearce’s words shot through her like lightning streaking across a hot summer sky. She pushed up on one arm as she slipped her palm between Pearce’s thighs, her fingers gliding through shimmering heat and into even hotter depths. She watched Pearce’s face as she filled her, saw her eyes glaze as she pushed deeper, watched her jaws tighten down on a groan. She put her mouth lightly against Pearce’s ear. “I’m going to make you come now.”

  “Please.” Pearce closed her eyes and arched her back as the first link i
n the chain of her desire snapped. “Oh yeah.”

  “You like?” Wynter gasped, rocking along the length of Pearce’s thigh as she thrust in time between her legs. “Tell me. Tell me how you feel.”

  “I…” Pearce gripped Wynter’s arm tightly and pressed her lips to the soft skin. “I feel safe.” She groaned and threw her head back, searching Wynter’s face for understanding. “I feel…oh I’m gonna come…”

  “I can tell,” Wynter breathed wonderingly, so focused on Pearce’s pleasure she forgot her own. “I love you.”

  I love you. Pearce’s mind succumbed as fire erupted in the pit of her stomach and blazed through her, burning away the loneliness and the fear. When she stopped shaking, she slowly became aware of Wynter’s arms around her, holding her close, rocking her. Whispering something. “What?” she croaked.

  “Sleep now, baby. Go to sleep.”

  “I don’t want to,” Pearce muttered, but she could barely move. “Want to be with you.”

  “You are.” Wynter kissed her forehead. “I’m not letting you go.”

  Pearce sighed. “Oh yeah?”

  “Oh yes.” Wynter laughed shakily and brushed the damp hair off Pearce’s cheek. “Count on it.”

  “’Kay.” Pearce finally let go and slept.

  Wide awake, Wynter held her, content for the moment just to have her near. In the morning, Pearce would be gone. It might be a week, it might be a month, before they were together again. This time, however, she would allow herself to believe there would be a next time. Because she wanted it, wanted her, more than she could ever remember wanting anything, even her career. And this time, she would not allow time or distance to keep them apart. Absently, she rubbed her cheek against Pearce’s hair, luxuriating in her scent. Part sweetness, part dark secrets.

  Pearce stirred, and half awake, mumbled, “Sleep.”

  Wynter smiled. “I will.”

  Then quite clearly, Pearce said, “I love you.”