Secrets in the Stone

by Radclyffe

  “Please, oh please make me come,” Becky keened, thrusting herself up and down on Melinda’s hand.

  Melinda angled her wrist to massage Becky’s clitoris, desperate for Becky to orgasm. She needed Becky’s pleasure to free her from the need tearing at the fiber of her being. “Come for me, my beautiful one. Come.”

  “I’m coming. More. Please. More.” Becky’s head thrashed and her eyes rolled back.

  Yes. Bringing her face close to Becky’s, Melinda inhaled her moans of ecstasy. She took Becky’s mouth, delving deep inside, devouring her arousal until her orgasm sliced through her like silver shards of glass. Even as she reveled in Becky’s energy filling her, empowering her, the body that undulated beneath hers became Adrian’s. Adrian surrendering to her, Adrian immolating her with pure and powerful desire. The woman in her arms convulsed with another orgasm and Melinda came again, wildly, violently. Adrian’s face blazed in her mind. Exquisite. Rapturous. Adrian!

  *

  Adrian whimpered and twisted beneath the tangled sheets, damp with perspiration and desire. Moonlight bathed the room. The air was heavy and still. Slipping her hands over the sleekly muscled back to the hard, tense buttocks, she bowed up to meet the body bearing down into her. She wrapped her legs around the thrusting hips, kneading her turgid sex into the answering heat. Flames danced on the moonbeams, licking up her thighs, teasing over her clitoris like a silken tongue. Need writhed in her depths, too powerful to keep chained inside.

  “Oh yess,” Adrian cried. Her hips bucked and she surged toward orgasm, her eyes flying open at the instant she climaxed. She clutched desperately for her invisible lover, finding only emptiness. Shuddering, gasping, she crushed her palm to her violently pulsing center. Stop, please stop.

  *

  Rooke jerked upright, staring around the unfamiliar room. She lurched to her feet and only then recognized her living room. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Heart pounding, she listened intently, searching for some sign of what had awakened her. The silence was total. Even the usual ping of the radiators was absent. She rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, her skin tingling as if from an interrupted caress.

  Uneasy, every sense warning her of some danger, she crossed to the window and stared outside. She saw nothing through the curtain of snow in the moonlit yard except her grandfather’s truck, nearly buried under a drift. The surface of the driveway was unbroken. Not even the deer had ventured out. She was alone.

  With a sigh, she made her way downstairs to her shop. When she ran her hand over the woman emerging from the stone, her unrest eased. When all that remained in her consciousness was the spirit of the stone, she started to carve.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’m too early, aren’t I?” Rooke said when Adrian opened the door shortly after seven. She’d worked until the uneasy feeling that had awakened her returned and broke her concentration. Finally, she gave in to the pressure in her head that kept warning her that something wasn’t right. All she could think was that Adrian was somehow in danger. Now that she stood on the porch with the sun barely up, she felt foolish. Adrian would really think she was crazy now. “I’ll come back.”

  “No!” Adrian grabbed Rooke’s arm as she started to turn away and then just as quickly let go when Rooke stared, her brows drawing down.

  “What’s wrong?” Rooke asked.

  Rooke’s face took on the fierce expression she’d had when Adrian had nearly fainted from the unexpected surge of energy after touching Rooke the day before, and Adrian took irrational comfort in it. Never in her life, even when her life had been in danger, had she turned to anyone for protection, and she wasn’t going to now. Just the same, the nausea that had plagued her since the shattering and completely unwelcome orgasm relented for the first time in hours. “Nothing. I was just about to make breakfast. Are you hungry?”

  “Oh man,” Rooke said.

  “What?”

  “I’m supposed to make breakfast this morning.”

  Adrian smiled, confused. “You lost me.”

  “It’s my turn to make breakfast. My grandfather expects sausage and eggs.”

  “Oh,” Adrian said, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well then, you’d better get to it.”

  Rooke surveyed the dark circles under Adrian’s eyes. They were deeper than yesterday, almost bruised, and despite her bright smile, she looked upset. Something was wrong, but Rooke didn’t know how to ask. She had no idea what to say, so she followed her instincts. “Come with me.”

  “What?” Adrian laughed, completely taken aback.

  “Come with me. I think we have tea.”

  “Tea.”

  Rooke nodded.

  Adrian quickly turned away, appalled to feel tears flood her eyes. She was going to cry just because Rooke remembered she drank tea? What was wrong with her? She heard Rooke move, felt a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to lean into Rooke’s touch with every fiber of her being, to feel that strength and warmth surround her. And because she wanted it and didn’t understand why, she pulled away.

  “I’ll go,” Rooke said quietly from behind her.

  “Wait.” Adrian spun back, unable to bear for Rooke to think she didn’t want her comfort. She could let herself have that much couldn’t she? “I would love to come to breakfast.”

  “You would?”

  Rooke’s face lit up and Adrian’s heart gave a little stutter. God, she was beautiful.

  “I would.” Adrian held up a finger. “Come inside and give me five minutes to change my clothes.”

  “Why?” Rooke stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind her. “You look great.”

  Adrian eyed her shapeless green sweater and faded jeans. She would have taken the statement as meaningless flattery coming from someone other than Rooke, but she’d never met anyone who seemed less capable of artificiality than Rooke. The simple compliment threatened to bring tears again, and she backed away. She needed to pull herself together, and she wasn’t going to be able to do that until Rooke stopped looking at her with that consuming intensity in her gorgeous dark eyes. “Five minutes. Don’t go.”

  “I won’t,” Rooke said.

  As foolish as it might be, Adrian believed her.

  *

  “I’ll get that tree taken care of tomorrow,” Rooke said as she and Adrian made their way around the fallen oak to Rooke’s truck. “I see you got the Jeep out.”

  “I was lucky. All this wind turned out to be helpful in one way, at least. The snow drifted away from the front of the barn and I managed to get down the driveway and around the tree in four-wheel drive.”

  “If you need anything—groceries or supplies—you can call me. It would save you from driving on these roads.”

  Adrian climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re driving on them.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  Any other morning, Adrian would have argued, or at least have pointed out that she was completely as capable as Rooke Tyler at managing a vehicle in the snow, but she was exhausted and shaken and she didn’t have the energy for verbal combat. More than that, Rooke’s concern warmed her. Rooke turned onto River Road heading away from the direction Adrian took into town, and she rubbed condensation from the window and looked out, almost too weary to keep her eyes open. The snow had tapered off to occasional flurries, but the sun remained hidden behind sheets of slate gray clouds that portended more snow before long. The river was only yards away and completely frozen, huge chunks of ice stacked like dominoes or giant, jagged teeth across the surface. For just an instant, the image of a vehicle half submerged beneath the frozen floes flashed through her mind and she shuddered.

  Adrian turned her back to the river, finding it much more soothing to watch Rooke instead. She drove with both hands lightly clasping the wheel, relaxed in the seat, her blue jean–clad legs slightly spread. Her face was intent, but not strained. She looked comfortable and confident. Solid. Strong.

  Rooke glanced over and caught Adrian staring. �
�Is the house too cold?”

  “What?”

  “You look really tired. I thought maybe that was why.”

  Adrian laughed self-consciously. “Hasn’t anyone ever warned you never to tell a woman she doesn’t look good?”

  Rooke colored. She had no idea how to talk to a woman. Or how not to. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know much about that.”

  “Rooke,” Adrian said softly, instantly sorry for her remark. She’d meant it to cover her own embarrassment and could see that she had embarrassed Rooke instead. On impulse, she leaned across the seat and grasped Rooke’s forearm. “I was teasing.”

  “Oh.”

  Adrian had the insane urge to slide all the way over until her body rested against Rooke’s. She wanted to tell her how good it felt to be with her. She contented herself with skimming her fingers over the top of Rooke’s hand. The brief contact made her feel more centered than she had since she’d gone to bed in physical and emotional turmoil the night before. “Can I ask you something personal?”

  “Yes,” Rooke said, bracing herself for something she feared she wouldn’t be able to answer. Or if she did, Adrian would be done with her.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  Rooke jerked in surprise and answered automatically. “No.” Then she remembered Emma. She wanted to be honest. “I’ve never…” She took a breath and started again. “I have a friend I care about. She cares about me too. But we’re not…like that.”

  “Okay. I think I understand.” Adrian concluded Rooke was either in a relationship that wasn’t sexual or was in a sexual relationship that wasn’t serious. She wasn’t sure which she preferred, but she was glad Rooke seemed to have no significant ties.

  “I don’t know very much about women, I guess,” Rooke muttered.

  Sensing Rooke’s discomfort and wanting to lighten the mood, Adrian tapped Rooke’s thigh lightly. “Lesson number one. Never tell a woman she looks tired, because what that really means is she looks haggard and unattractive.”

  “That’s not true,” Rooke said, her brows drawing down. “You look tired but you’re still beautiful.”

  Adrian’s heart jumped into her throat. She’d been told she was beautiful before. Men had told her she was too beautiful to be with other women when she had rejected their advances. Melinda had told her she was beautiful while trying to seduce her, and other women had told her she was beautiful while making love to her. She had never in her life been told she was beautiful with such simple and honest sincerity. This was the first time she’d believed it might be true.

  “My mistake,” Adrian whispered. “You aren’t in need of any lessons at all.”

  Rooke smiled. “No?”

  “Most definitely no.”

  Rooke turned into the driveway at Stillwater and pulled to a stop behind the house. She turned off the engine and shifted to face Adrian. “Did something happen to you last night?”

  Adrian caught her lower lip between her teeth. What could she say? A woman I don’t want to go to bed with got me so aroused I had an erotic dream and came in my sleep? If I’m going to come dreaming about anyone, I want it to be you? Oh, that would be a conversation stopper. She settled for partial truth. “Bad dreams. And I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

  “I know how that is.”

  “You were up pretty early yourself,” Adrian said.

  “You probably think this is crazy, but I was worried about you.”

  The air in the truck suddenly seemed terribly still and warm. With another woman, Adrian would have politely but firmly told her there was no need to worry—she could take care of herself. A few days ago, she would have said the same thing to Rooke. Right now, all she wanted was to bury her hands in Rooke’s hair and kiss her. She wanted that long, tight body on top of her. She wanted those strong, sure hands on her breasts, on her thighs, inside her. She wanted, with the same wild urgency she had wanted the night before when a stranger had crouched above her, delving inside her, driving her beyond sanity. But today, the wanting was by her choice. And that was enough.

  “I don’t think it’s crazy,” Adrian whispered.

  “I’m glad.”

  Adrian nodded toward the house. “Breakfast?”

  “Yeah. I’d better get to it.”

  Adrian followed Rooke up the narrow path to the back door of a gorgeous stone house that emanated the same enduring strength she sensed from Rooke. She wondered if a Tyler had built that house two hundred and fifty years before.

  “You live here with your grandfather?” Adrian asked as Rooke held the door open for her and she walked into the kitchen. She handed Rooke her jacket.

  “No. Over the shop out back.” Rooke took both their jackets into the adjoining room and when she returned, she gestured to the table. “Have a seat. Do you want some tea while I cook?”

  “What are you having?”

  Rooke hefted a coffeepot.

  “Coffee is fine,” Adrian said with a smile. “I drink it all the time when I’m on assignment.”

  “No,” Rooke said. “I promised you tea.”

  “That would be great, then. Thank you.” Adrian settled into a chair at the table. “Can I help?”

  “No. I’ve got it. Thanks.” Rooke put a pot of water on to boil and pulled a coffee can from the refrigerator.

  Adrian watched her work. Mostly, she watched her move. Her white cotton shirt stretched across her shoulders as she took food from the refrigerator and dishes from the cabinets. Her stonewashed denim jeans molded to her butt and thighs as she bent down to pull a frying pan from the drawer in the bottom of the cast-iron stove. Adrian’s mouth went suddenly dry as she pictured herself running her hands over those taut muscles. Just as her musings were leading her into definitely dangerous territory, she heard footsteps and a vigorous-looking man about her grandmother’s age halted in the doorway of the adjoining room. He regarded her with a pensive expression.

  “Hello,” Adrian said, shooting to her feet to cover her embarrassment at having been caught while she was cruising Rooke’s backside.

  Rooke looked over her shoulder in the man’s direction. “Hi, Pops. This is Adrian.”

  Adrian held out her hand and the man took it. His hand was warm and dry. He had calluses in some of the same places as Rooke. “Adrian Oakes. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  “Ron Tyler.” He released Adrian’s hand and went to the counter, picked up a coffee mug, and filled it. Then he sat down opposite her at the table.

  Not knowing what else to do, Adrian sat back down. Thankfully, Rooke brought her a cup of tea at that moment so she could occupy herself with it. She fiddled with the teabag. She wasn’t often speechless in new situations and she didn’t usually concern herself with what kind of first impression she made. Chiding herself, she forced herself to sit back in her chair and meet Ronald Tyler’s gaze. She saw pieces of Rooke in the bold arch of his cheekbones and the square set of his jaw. His eyes, however, were not the deep dark brown of hers, but blue.

  “You’re Elizabeth Winchester’s granddaughter,” Rooke’s grandfather said.

  “Yes.”

  “You look a little bit like her.”

  “Rooke looks quite a lot like you.”

  He smiled and sipped his coffee. “Things okay at the house?”

  “Rooke’s got them under control.” Adrian glanced at Rooke, who was dishing eggs and sausage onto plates, and smiled. “She’s very thorough.”

  “She should be. That’s her job.”

  Rooke set the food on the table, brought an extra chair from the dining room, and sat down. She gave Adrian a worried look. “Is the tea okay?”

  “The tea is perfect. And breakfast looks great.” Adrian touched Rooke’s bare forearm. “It’s exactly what I needed.”

  Rooke’s smile blazed at the same instant as light burst in Adrian’s vision, as if the sun had suddenly leaped above the horizon and turned night into day in a fraction of a second. Arms wrapped around her middle from behind an
d she leaned back against a strong chest, secure in the knowledge that she would not fall. Warm lips moved over the curve of her neck and she tilted her head back, content to let the pleasure enfold her.

  “Good,” Rooke said.

  Adrian blinked and felt her face go hot. She almost didn’t dare to look across the table at Rooke’s grandfather, but she forced herself to do it. He seemed engrossed in his breakfast. Thank goodness she hadn’t made a sound, because in her mind, she had moaned from absolute bliss.

  “So I gather Rooke has told you about the damage to the house,” Adrian said, searching for a safe topic of conversation. She edged her chair a little farther away from Rooke so their thighs wouldn’t touch, not wanting a repeat of her last little loss of control.

  “Yup. Rooke give you the estimate to discuss with your grandmother?”

  “Not yet.”

  Rooke pushed her plate aside and reached into her back pocket. She handed Adrian a folded square of white paper. “I was going to give this to you later.”

  “Thanks,” Adrian said.

  “Well, I think I’ll have a look at the trees. Make sure we don’t have any branches down.” Rooke’s grandfather rose and donned a dark green canvas jacket and matching hat that he lifted from pegs on the far side of the door. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Oakes.”

  “You too, Mr. Tyler,” Adrian said as he disappeared out the back door. She sighed inwardly with relief. That seemed to go all right. She glanced at Rooke, who was drinking her coffee and watching her. “He didn’t even seem surprised to find a stranger in his kitchen at a godawful early hour of the morning. Do you often bring home strays?”

  “I’ve never brought anyone home before.”

  “Oh, I just assumed you grew up here. I don’t know why.”

  “I did. I just got the place out back five years ago.”