by Radclyffe
“Not hardly. That’s why I donate it.” As they talked, Harper led Presley outside and around the back of the barn to another pasture. She opened the fence. “Be careful of the top line there, it’s electrified.”
Inside, she called to the goats, who bounded out of their shed and came toward her at a trot, several of them bleating in recognition. She checked their water, added more hay to the rack, and scratched their ears.
“Now it’s our turn for food.” Harper locked the pasture gate, and Presley took her hand again. They reached the house just as the sun came up.
“I can’t believe it’s morning.” Presley paused on the top step and took a deep breath. “God, the air smells good.”
“Tired?” Harper held open the screen door on the back porch. She rarely locked the house and hadn’t the day before when she’d left. The kitchen still smelled faintly of cornbread and bacon from the meal she’d cooked for Flann.
“I’m used to late hours and erratic schedules,” Presley said. “I’m more hungry than tired, and maybe a little grimy too.”
“Me too.” Harper grinned. “What would you like? Coffee or how about a shower?”
Presley stilled. The idea of a shower, one she didn’t take alone, was suddenly all she could think about. All she could see was Harper, steam rising around her, her hair plastered to her neck as water coursed over her shoulders, streaming between her breasts and down the length of her abdomen. The thought of sliding her palms where the water had just been, over the curves of Harper’s breasts and the hard, smooth plane of her abdomen, made her hands ache. Going to her knees and pressing her mouth to the heat between Harper’s thighs drove the hunger to a fever pitch.
“Coffee.”
Harper’s eyes searched hers. “That’s not what I thought you were going to say.”
“Were you reading my mind?” Presley laughed ruefully. “I certainly hope not.”
“I caught a glimpse of what you were thinking.” Harper rested both hands on Presley’s hips. “I hope I saw right.”
“What do you think you saw?”
“Us, naked, under the water, touching.”
Presley’s legs trembled and want clutched at her throat. “It’s crazy. We’d be crazy to even once—”
Harper pulled her closer. “How much crazier is it going to get if we don’t?”
Presley shivered. Heat poured from Harper’s body. “I don’t know. I’m not thinking very clearly.”
“I’m not thinking at all.” Harper kissed Presley’s throat. “You know what? That feels really good—just feeling you.” She kissed her again, palms sliding down the length of Presley’s back. “Feels right. You taste amazing.”
“Shouldn’t we talk about—”
“I don’t think we should talk about anything at all. Not right now.” Harper raised her head and her eyes were endless. “Tell me no now, if you mean it.”
“I wouldn’t,” Presley whispered.
“Then come with me.”
The next instant they were upstairs—at least Presley had no memory of anything other than suddenly being in a large stone-tiled bathroom with a glass-walled double shower, and warm water already streaming from the showerhead. Maybe she was still imagining… She blinked, but everything remained exactly the same. Only now Harper was opening her shirt. Somewhere a voice warned her she should stop, think, but the sound faded with every passing second. When the backs of Harper’s fingers brushed over the top of her breast, she heard only the steady beat of water on glass and her own heart pounding in her throat. She needed to feel her. Grasping Harper’s shirt, she tugged open the buttons and pushed the sleeves down Harper’s arms, realizing only after she did it she’d trapped Harper’s arms by her sides.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t stop there,” Harper gasped.
“No.” Presley dropped to her knees, opened Harper’s pants, and pulled down the zipper. She kissed the hollow at the base of Harper’s belly. “I can’t.”
“Presley,” Harper said, her voice so deep and husky Presley wouldn’t have recognized it under any other circumstances. “You should be very careful there. I’m very much on the edge.”
“So am I.” Presley looked up and couldn’t hide her smile. Dominating someone as strong as Harper was an aphrodisiac so exciting a single touch would make her explode. She pulled Harper’s shirt the rest of the way off. “And I want you.”
Harper’s lids flickered closed. Her fingers wove into Presley’s hair. “Then I’m all yours.”
All yours. A figure of speech, one she liked. Presley pulled Harper’s pants and underclothes down over her hips and Harper stepped out of her shoes and the rest. Presley kissed low down on her belly again and rubbed her cheek against the soft skin. Muscles twitched beneath her mouth. “Hold on to something.”
“I am.” Harper’s hand tightened on the back of her neck, drawing her mouth closer.
Presley pressed a kiss to the delta between Harper’s thighs. Harper went rigid as stone beneath her palms. She kissed her again, deeper, and Harper groaned. The sound went through her like the surgeon’s knife, swift and clean and bright. She slid her arms around Harper’s hips and held her close, held her up, as she stroked and kissed and licked and drove her up…up and up and over. Harper trembled and groaned Presley’s name, rocking against her.
Presley slid one hand to her own trousers, opened them, and pushed them down. She was ready to come but she wanted Harper’s skin against her when she did. As soon as Harper stilled she rose, dragged Harper under the water, and kissed her. The water was cool compared to the heat of Harper’s mouth, the burning invitation of Harper’s skin.
“Ah God, I’m so ready for you.” Gasping, Presley pressed her face to Harper’s neck. “Please.”
Harper backed her against the cool tiles and slid one hand between her thighs. “I’m here.”
Presley threw her head back as Harper filled her, the pressure and pleasure catapulting her to the edge. She gripped Harper’s shoulders, digging her fingers in as the spasms radiated from deep within her, ripples in a pond, spreading and spreading. “Oh God. I’m coming.”
“Yes,” Harper breathed.
Presley needed to see Harper’s face, but the pleasure was so intense, for an instant she was blind. She shuddered, and when she could focus again, Harper was there, filling her, taking her, like no one ever before.
Chapter Twenty-one
Harper didn’t know how long she’d been in the shower. The water beating against her back was beginning to cool, but her blood still burned. Every sense was saturated with Presley—her taste, her scent, the silky glide of her skin. The soft catch in her breath when she started to come. She buried her face in Presley’s neck and ran her hands over Presley’s back to her ass. Realizing she was leaning on her, she mumbled, “Am I too heavy yet?”
“No. You’re good. Better than good.” Presley rested with her head back against the tiles, her eyes half-open, one hand clenched in Harper’s hair, the other lax against the shower wall. “I can’t move anyway, and I like the way you feel against me.”
Harper liked it too. More than she’d ever imagined. “We’re going to lose the hot water in a couple of minutes.”
“I don’t care.”
Harper chuckled. “You will.”
“Uh-huh.”
With a sigh, Harper braced her arm against the wall and pushed away, severing their connection. Instantly, she wanted her again. She enjoyed sex, although she didn’t think about it much and never set out on a date with sex as a goal. This was more than sex—this need to touch Presley, to explore her, to undo her, was a craving that fascinated and, in a way, terrified her. What happened to the craving if it went unfulfilled? Did one die of hunger or go mad from yearning? She felt nearly mad now, and Presley was only a few inches away.
“What are you thinking?” Presley asked languorously.
“I’m not thinking anything.” Harper wasn’t sure even her thoughts were her own at
the moment. Her mind was an electrical storm of raw nerve endings.
“Yes, you are. Your eyes just went dark, the way they do when you’re thinking serious thoughts.”
Harper settled her hands on either side of Presley’s shoulders, keeping her caged, not wanting to let her away too quickly. “How do you know that?”
Presley’s smile was secretive and seductive. “I’ve been watching you.”
“I know. You do that a lot.”
“Do you mind?”
“Not when you’re watching me.”
Presley’s brow raised just a little bit. “Who else do you think I’ve been watching?”
“Flann.” Harper had never once in her life been jealous of her sister. Not when Flann hit better than her in Little League softball, even though she was the oldest and bigger and should’ve been stronger. Not when the girls in high school, even the seniors a year or two ahead of them, chased after Flann and never her. Not even in college when they took the same courses and once in a while Flann would beat her on a test. They were almost always evenly matched, physically and intellectually, but Flann always had an edge. Always the sharper sword, the faster wit. The pirate to her navigator. Not this time, though. This time there was no room for Flann.
“I don’t look at her like I look at you.” Presley curled her fingers through Harper’s hair and tightened her fist at the back of her neck. She kissed Harper hard on the mouth, then lightly on the jaw and lighter still on her throat. “Not once. And I never will.”
“I don’t have any right—”
“You’re right, you don’t.” Presley bit Harper’s shoulder lightly and Harper growled. “But it’s true all the same. And my choice.”
“Thank you. I already get crazy enough when I look at you.”
Presley licked the water running down Harper’s neck. “Do you?”
“You couldn’t tell?” Harper caught Presley’s chin between her fingers and kissed her, deep and long. “We have to get out of the water.”
Presley stroked Harper’s chest. “Afraid of the cold?”
“No. I want you again, in bed, under me.”
Presley’s breath hissed in and she raked her nails down Harper’s back. “Are you asking or telling?”
“Do I have to ask?”
“No. Because I want you again too.”
*
Flann pulled in to the White place a little after six thirty in the morning. She’d driven by Harper’s and seen the two cars in the driveway. Her first thought had been Go, Harper! but almost immediately a fist of unease had settled in the pit of her stomach. Presley Worth was the first woman to come along who had the ability to shred Harper’s heart. Considering all the circumstances, that possibility was likely. Flann couldn’t just stand by and watch. She left her Jeep and walked around to the back door, hoping Carrie wouldn’t take her for a prowler and call 911.
Carrie sat on the back steps with a mug in her hand and something that smelled fabulous on a plate balanced on her knees. She looked up expectantly and then her welcoming smile turned to one of concern. “Has something happened to Presley?”
“No,” Flann said quickly, “everyone’s fine. I take it you haven’t heard from her.”
“Not this morning. She left a message last night that she was at the hospital, but I haven’t heard from her since then, and she didn’t come home—” She broke off and her cheeks flushed, making her look as innocent as a teenager. “Oh. Crap. Could you forget I said that?”
“That’s okay. You’re not giving anything away. I already knew that.”
“And I suppose you know where she spent the night?” Carrie asked slowly.
“I do. That will be up to Presley to tell you, though.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “As if there were a lot of possibilities.”
“Right. We can both pretend surprise, then.” Flann pointed to the plate. “Is there more of whatever that is somewhere?”
“It’s bread. With cheese or something so delicious in it I’m in danger of eating the entire thing.”
“Can I help you dispose of it?”
“I’ll get you some. Have you been up all night?”
“No. Only most of it.”
Carrie shook her head. “You’re all crazy, you know that, right?”
“All of us who?”
“All the Rivers doctors.”
“Possibly. Probably. Bread?”
“Coffee?” Carrie rose and the rooster who’d been pecking in the yard waddled toward the stairs, his head cocked.
“You’ve got a friend.”
“Presley’s been spoiling him. Now he expects breakfast.”
“That’s what happens when you feed a vagabond.”
Carrie grinned over her shoulder. “What happens when you feed wandering doctors?”
“That’s a secret.”
Laughing, Carrie disappeared inside. Flann followed and said through the screen, “Do you want me to do anything?”
“Do you want breakfast?”
“Some of that bread with a whole lot of butter will be fine for now. And the coffee. Especially the coffee.”
“Goes without saying,” Carrie called back. “Sit down, I’ll be out in just a second.”
Flann settled on the top step with her back against the porch post. The sun was up, the sky was clear, and birds were singing. She couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be or anything else she’d rather be doing. Carrie came out and handed her a cup of coffee and a plate with a thick slab of bread that smelled fresh from the oven. Carrie sat opposite her and tossed another piece of crust to the rooster.
“I think he gets bored during the day.”
“He needs some hens,” Flann observed.
“I was thinking the same thing. How do you go about doing that?”
“Plenty of farmers around here have some. There are probably even chicks left at the local feed store.”
“Are they hard to take care of?”
“Not as soon as they get big enough to run away from predators. And you’ve got the rooster. Instinctually, he’ll protect them.”
Carrie sighed. “I’d love to get some, but I don’t think we’re going to be here long enough.”
“A quick turnaround, huh?”
Carrie grew still. “That will be up to Presley.”
“But you and Presley are a team, right?”
“Wrong,” Carrie said quietly. “Presley is my boss.”
“Just in name only, I bet.”
Carrie shook her head. “No. She really is my boss, and she’s very good at what she does.”
“And what she does is take places like the Rivers and turn them into something else.”
“Sometimes. It depends on the circumstances.” Carrie’s tone had cooled. “And I don’t have anything else to tell you.”
“Fair enough. This is jalapeño cheddar, by the way.” Flann finished the bread, which was about the best bread she’d ever tasted next to her mother’s. “My sister is not a player.”
“I know a player when I see one.” Carrie stood up abruptly. The chill in her voice had turned to ice. “And I know which of the Rivers sisters that would be.”
Flann looked up at her, grinning. “No argument from me. And I’m not trying to piss you off.”
Carrie crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s get something straight, Flannery. Presley is my boss, and she’s also my friend. What she does in her personal life is her business, and none of mine or yours. I’m sure your sister is quite capable of looking after herself.”
Flann stayed sitting, letting Carrie have the upper hand and the dominant position. She liked her fire and she liked her loyalty. “Under most circumstances, I’d agree with you on all counts. But if the two of you really are only here for a short time, that means the Rivers is probably not going to stay the way it is now. Harper will fight it, and that means trouble for your friend and my sister.”
Carrie sighed. “That’s something neither of us is going to
be able to change.”
“Maybe. Maybe you’re right.”
“And what about you? How do you feel about what’s happening?”
“Me? I go with the flow. I’ll land on my feet one way or the other.”
“If you don’t invest much, you can’t lose much, right?”
Flannery rose and dusted off the back of her jeans. She stacked the cup on the empty plate. “You’ve clearly got my number.”
“I never asked for it,” Carrie said dryly.
“Would you like it?”
“No.”
Flann grinned, automatically hiding her disappointment. She didn’t always win, and she rarely minded when she was refused. This time she did. That was reason enough to back off. “Thank you for the coffee and the food.”
“You’re welcome.” Carrie took the dishes. “Thanks for letting me know that Presley’s okay.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope.”
*
Presley straddled Harper’s hips, both hands braced on her shoulders. The window was open. Somewhere a rooster crowed. Early morning sunlight made Harper’s dark hair glint against the snow-white pillow. They were naked in the center of her big bed, and the cool air whispered over Presley’s flushed skin like a kiss. She was wet against Harper’s abdomen, the faint friction keeping her on a razor’s edge. The threads of her control were stretched tight but she held on, loving the tension strumming through her muscles. When Harper cupped her breasts and teased her nipples with her thumbs, Presley threw back her head and moaned.
“I love the way you look right now,” Harper said. “I love you moving on top of me.”
“I’m going to come on top of you any second.” Her breath came out in ragged pants. She was oh so close now. Her vision swam. Harper’s hands tightened on her breasts, the pressure on her nipples sending a jolt to her clitoris. Electricity rippled down her spine. “God. Soon.”
The room disappeared and Presley clung to Harper’s body, found her eyes and held to the solid strength of her, rocking harder, faster. Her head dropped, her hair curtained her face, the pleasure so intense she bit her lip to hold back a cry. Harper gripped her hips, pulled her back and forth, rubbing their flesh together. Higher, faster, closer. Breaking, falling, flying.
