by Tonya Muir
I jostle my legs, attempting to dislodge her.
"Doucement, ma biche, doucement," she chides. She then takes pity on me and leans down to kiss me.
I return the kiss hungrily, glad to have her lips against mine at last. And who is she to lecture me about patience? I mean, it wasn’t ten minutes ago she was shoving me down her body.
Wait a second.
She just spoke French.
And I thought she could only do that in her kisses.
She presses her body against mine and I decide that self-restraint isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I fold my arms around her, intent on keeping her right where she is. She feels so good, so soft. And she fits just right.
We’ll deal with that French thing later.
She’s kissing my lips, my jaw, my cheek, my throat. I tilt my head back to give her plenty of room to work. Oh yeah, right there. That’s good. More of that please.
She seems to understand my need and she continues, marking me. I don’t care. As long as she doesn’t stop. I feel her hand slide down the length of our bodies and move between us. Oh, don’t stop that either. That’s especially nice. Uh huh. Right … there.
Her lips cover mine once more and her tongue imitates her hand. We move together, slowly at first, becoming accustomed to the feel of our bodies so intertwined. Suddenly, it’s all too much. Teasing has turned to passion, which has metamorphosed to pure pleasure.
"Oh …darlin’," I exhale, as the tremors overtake me.
And then I can do nothing more than lay limply on the bed, grateful for the weight of Kelsey on me keeping me grounded. Otherwise, I would simply float away.
She nestles against me, burrowing her head under my chin, bringing the scent of rainwater to me. We hold each other gently and whisper nonsense words as sleep begins to overtake us. Kels places soft kisses on my flesh then falls asleep in my arms.
I chuckle as an old thought returns to me: Straight, my ass.
Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:
Episode Eighteen: Reality Bites
It’s morning.
I know this because the sun is streaming through the blinds and hitting me right in the eye. I burrow my face deeper into Kelsey’s hair and tighten my hold around her waist. This is nice.
She reaches down to take my hand and drags it up between her breasts, kissing my knuckles. "Go back to sleep," she whispers.
"Good morning," I whisper, kissing the base of her neck. She shivers. I caused that and I am inordinately pleased.
"You going for a run?"
I tickle the base of her throat with my fingers. "I think not. I’m gonna go downstairs and fix us breakfast before Mama and Papa come home."
She groans and blushes. I watch it travel all over her body. Damn, that’s cute. "I have to face your Mama now."
I kiss her shoulder. "Chér, it’s going to be fine. I mean, it’s not like we have to wear signs telling everyone what we did last night." I didn’t think she’d already regret it. So much for a morning after.
Kelsey rolls over in my arms and inspects me carefully. "And how will you explain this?" She gently fingers the hickey she gave me last night.
"I let the bed bugs bite?"
She laughs at my unexpected joke. "I don’t think she’ll fall for that."
"Is it really that bad, Kels?" I ask before I can censure myself. God, I don’t want another Omaha fiasco on my hands.
"Is what so bad?" she echoes. Then her eyes register understanding of what I’m asking. "No, not at all, Harper. Not at all." She kisses my chin and snuggles closer. "Last night was wonderful. You were wonderful. This is wonderful."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. In fact, I say to hell with breakfast. We can always eat on the plane. But there are certain things we can’t do in the air."
Her hands cover my breasts and I let out a little sigh. "Darlin’, haven’t you ever heard of the Mile High Club?"
Kelsey blinks innocently. "Isn’t that when you fly over Denver?"
God, I love waking up with this woman. "Uh, no. But I’ll help you complete a membership application later."
* * *
We stand awkwardly by the rental car. Kelsey and I are deliberately trying to not touch each other, which is so damn hard. All I want is to touch her, hold her, caress her.
Snap out of it, Harper! Or you’ll never make it onto the plane. Flying over Denver. That’s some sense of humor you got there, Kels.
Papa catches me thinking lascivious thoughts and winks at me.
We gotta get going. I can barely make out what my mother is saying.
"You two be sure to call us when you get back to Los Angeles so we don’t worry about you."
Kelsey manages to answer since I seem to have lost my voice. "We will, Cécile."
"You call me Mama, ma petite." I watch as Mama hugs Kelsey tightly to her and kisses both cheeks. "And you come back here soon. At least for Christmas, if not before."
I don’t hear Kelsey’s reply since my Papa chooses that moment to grab me in a headlock. His knuckles brush through my hair just like they have since I barely had hair. "Don’t you be hardheaded, Harper Lee," he whispers in my ear. "And don’t you be scared. I didn’t raise you to back down from anything."
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks for coming home for Thanksgiving, sweetheart." He lets me stand up and regain some sense of dignity. "We’re always so happy when you’re here."
"Me too, Papa." I kiss his cheek. Then turn to face Mama.
She is holding her arms open to me, a wide smile on her face. I go to her, feeling very much like the little girl who once sought shelter in those same arms, knowing they could protect me from anything and everything. "Je t'aime, mon coeur. Je suis bien fier de toi."
"I love you too, mama." For some reason, my mother being proud of me is a better achievement than any other I can imagine.
"Tu prends bien soin d'elle. And go, before I start crying."
"Yes, ma’am." I will take good care of Kelsey. And I don’t want to start crying either. I kiss her cheeks then climb into the Explorer before my heart can decide to stay here at home.
* * *
As I settle into my seat I wonder why such a wonderful trip has to be ruined by flying home. I, for one, would welcome high-speed, cross-country trains.
Harper settles in next to me and I have to wonder how she copes so damn well. I feel like a sardine in one of these things, even in first class. Thank God we’re not sitting in coach.
"You okay, Little Roo?"
"Eh, you know me and planes."
"Yeah, but I have the cure this time around." She quirks a brow at me. "You just leave everything to me."
"No problem." I try to smile, but can only flinch when I hear that door close and I know I'm now officially trapped.
* * *
"You know," I laugh a little as she grabs me around the waist from behind, "this would me a little easier if I could actually get to the answering machine."
"You," she pulls me back and begins kissing the back of my neck, "don’t need to check the machine right now."
"I have messages." I turn around in her arms.
Her answer to this statement is to kiss me soundly.
What messages?
To hell with the messages. I don’t like most of the people who leave them anyway.
Her arms tighten around me and the kiss continues. We start to lose our balance and fall back to the couch. I have to talk to her about shirts with snaps, or better yet Velcro, because the buttons are starting to piss me off.
"Oh yeah, that’s good," I moan. She finds a very sensitive spot on my neck. I don’t think anyone has ever found that spot before.
I feel her tug my shirt from my jeans. I manage to get the last button undone on her shirt and begin pushing it from her shoulders. God, I love these shoulders, I really do.
"Kels… please…" she whispers, then unsnaps my jeans.
I know what her problem is. She did a really nice job of d
istracting me on the plane (it’s amazing what she can do with a blanket, an ice cube and a swizzle stick), but now she’s all wound up and in desperate need of relief.
"Something I can do for you, Tabloid?"
"Oh yes." She nods, lifting up long enough to let me get her shirt off completely. "Teasing, however, really," she somehow manages to kick off her boots and I hear them thump to the floor, "isn’t on the menu."
"No?"
"No." She kisses me again. This isn’t a slow lingering kiss. This is a deep and demanding kiss.
As my hands travel over her torso, I feel and hear her moan into my mouth. Her hands work to rid me of my shirt and my bra, then begin caressing my skin. Oh, I like that.
That’s good.
Was that the elevator? Nah, couldn’t be.
I unsnap her jeans and work my hands into the waistband. I feel her shift so I can work them over her hips.
"Oh, that’s good," she moans. We continue to rid ourselves of the clothing.
"Oh boy!" a deep, decidedly male voice says from the entryway.
Erik’s voice is a major distraction. Oooh shit!
I manage to glance around Harper in time to watch my best friend make a hasty exit in the general direction of the kitchen, his face bright red. Harper groans when I pull away from her and reach for my shirt.
"I’m sorry," I offer with a little kiss on the throat. "I wasn’t expecting him back until next week."
"No," she swallows hard and reaches for her own shirt, "problem."
"I left a message on the machine!" Erik calls from the kitchen.
She grins ruefully. "Who knew?" she whispers, buttoning up her shirt.
"Un-huh." I smile, getting up from the couch and trying to rearrange my clothes to look at least somewhat presentable. "I’ll be right in, Erik."
"Oh, please. Take your time. I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything." I hear him laugh and the fridge door is pulled open.
"Too late, you little shit!" I call again.
He laughs again and I hear Harper mumble something about strangling him. I lean over and give her a kiss. "Oh, I’ll make him pay. I promise. I know where all his weak spots are."
"You have a mean streak, don’t you?" She pulls on her boots, then stands, wrapping her arms around me. "Don’t you?"
"You’d better believe it. Come on." I take her hand, tugging her with me into the kitchen.
Erik is leaning against the counter drinking a glass of milk. He looks like one of those ‘Got milk?’ ads. I shake my head as I let go of Harper’s hand and go to him for a hug. "Welcome back. Your timing sucks, but welcome home." I pull back and wipe his upper lip with a cloth retrieved from the counter.
He smiles first at me then at Harper. "I’m sorry, guys. I really did leave a message. We wrapped early so here I am."
"Don’t worry about it." I step back and extend my hand to Harper, not liking the sensation of being out of contact with her for to long. "Erik, you remember Harper."
He takes a deep breath, nodding. "I sure do. How are you, Ms. Kingsley?"
I can feel the tension building in the room. Oh shit. Please, Erik, be nice; please, be nice.
"I’m fine. Please, call me Harper." She extends her right hand to him.
He looks at it for a moment. Take it, Erik. Damn it, take it. He smiles and doesn’t disappoint me.
"Nice to see you again." He doesn’t hold her hand any longer than needed. "Kels, where in the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick."
"I’m sorry. I left a message for you with a production assistant. I was in New Orleans."
"New Orleans? Doing what?"
"Harper took me there for Thanksgiving. I went home with her, spent the holiday with her and her family."
His brow arches and looks to her. "Really? I’m guessing you had a good time."
"I had a great time."
"We," Harper pipes up, gripping my hand just a little tighter, "had a great time."
I’m really glad to hear that she had a good time too.
"Glad to hear it," he offers.
Jesus, Erik, lighten up a little. If it gets any chillier in here, I’ll need a jacket.
"Kels, why don’t I grab a cab, go home, get unpacked?"
"I can run you home."
"No. You two have things to catch up on and talk about. I’ll head out and when you’re ready, give me a call. We’ll do dinner, okay?" She leans in and gives me a kiss. It almost feels like a good-bye kiss and my stomach drops a little. I tighten my hold on her and try to communicate that I will call her.
"Don’t go to far from your phone, Tabloid. I intend to take you out to a very expensive dinner tonight." Leaning up, I manage to whisper in her ear. "Then bring you back here for dessert."
"You’ve got all my numbers, Little Roo." She offers with a wink. "I’ll talk to you later."
I stay in the kitchen, resisting the urge to follow her. I listen as the elevator opens and closes. I turn back to Erik. "Why didn’t you just tell her to get out?"
"What? What did I do?"
"You could have tried to be a little friendlier."
"Kels, come on. That was Harper Kingsley. The ‘bane of your existence’, remember? What in the hell is going on anyway?"
"I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure it has some to do with the fact that I’m thirty-two years old and tired of living my life by everyone else’s rules."
"So you decided to be the flavor of the week in Harper’s bed? Jesus Christ, Kels."
"No, it’s not like that," I defend her, hoping to God I’m right. "It’s different."
"Did she tell you that?"
"No." I admit quietly. I open the fridge and grab a bottle of water. Leaning against the counter next to Erik, I twist off the cap. "She hasn’t said anything to me about where this is going. I don’t think we know."
"Kels, honey." He moves closer and wraps his arm around my shoulders. "I’m your best friend and I love you. I want you to be happy and I don’t want to see you get hurt. You have to admit her track record isn’t a very good one."
"I know, but isn’t it possible that things are changing? I mean, isn’t it possible that we could build a long and wonderful relationship together?"
"Sure it is. But it’s also possible that by the time you call her to make dinner arrangements she will already be on the move. Don’t you remember what you told me after dinner that night? She left the library with one woman in the afternoon and had another with her at dinner."
"She wouldn’t do that to me."
Would she?
"I hope not, Kels, but please don’t delude yourself, and, please, please, be careful."
I nod, as I sip my water. "I will."
* * *
I drop Trouble to the floor. He meows in protest and ambles off to find his food bowl, always thinking with his stomach.
I toss my garment bag on the couch and go through my apartment. I manage to slam every door I can find. I even open up the linen closet door just so I can slam it shut.
Who the hell does he think he is? Mr. Erik "I'm a big movie star wannabe, but I'm so far in the closet it ain't funny" Collins. Locked his big, gay self in the closet and trapped Kelsey in there with him too.
Fuckin' hypocrite.
Thinks I'm not good enough for Kelsey.
What if I'm not?
Fortunately, the phone rings sparing me any self-analysis. It can't be Kelsey, it's too soon. If she even calls me at all. Somehow, I think Erik is doing his best to talk her out of whatever it is we are doing.
"Hello?"
"Bonjour, mon coeur."
"Hi, Mama. Ah, shit, I forgot to call you when we landed."
"Qui t'a dit, Harper Lee."
I groan. Gotta watch my language around Mama. Think I'd know that by now. "I'm sorry, Mama."
"What's wrong?"
How is it that mothers always know when their children are stressed? And with my mother there's no good in denying it. If I do, I'll find her on my doorstep
in the morning. "When we got home, Erik came back."
"Erik? Who is this Erik?"
I sigh. I hadn't wanted to get into this but, now that the Pandora's box has been opened, I have no choice. I tell her everything I know about Erik and Kelsey's relationship.
"So you think this man he says bad things about you?"
"I'm pretty sure about it."
"And you think Kelsey will believe him?"
Do I? I don't know anymore. I tell Mama that. "Maybe I should call her and tell her it doesn't matter."
"Espèsce de tête dure!"
Great. Now I'm being called hard-headed again. A little compassion here wouldn't hurt, Mama.
"You need to give Kelsey a bit more credit, Harper. She's a grown woman and very capable of making her own choices. Let her choose you. Don't you go and do something so stupid. And don't you dare hurt that lovely girl."
"I think you like her more than you like me," I grouse.
"Mais, non. I love you so much I will not let you hurt yourself by hurting her."
I sigh. "Okay, Mama, okay. You win."
"What will I do with you? I don't win. You win. I only win when you give me a grandbaby."
I bang the receiver against my forehead several times. "Mama!"
"I'm sorry, but it is true, Harper."
"Well, we have a slight problem here. One I hardly need educate you about."
She laughs and I smile for the first time since I left Kelsey's apartment. "I have great faith in your problem-solving capabilities, Harper. Now, I must go so your very beautiful girlfriend can call you."
I don't bother telling Mama that I have call waiting.
* * *
When the phone rings for the fourth time, my hopes for a nice dinner are beginning to fade. Maybe she’s gone out with her friends at The Rio. I certainly wouldn’t blame her if she did after the way Erik acted today.
Maybe he’ll reconsider his attitude when he finds the presents I left for him in the pockets of his favorite jacket. It’ll take him forever to get the smell out and it’ll cost him a small fortune to get it cleaned. It was very satisfying.
"Hello?"
