by VK Powell
“That’s the first personal information you’ve shared with me. Thank you. I love the sound of your voice, and when you share intimate details, you’re quite enticing.” Emma slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sometimes I engage my mouth before my brain. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable wasn’t really how Carter would describe the heat that scorched her body. She slowly finished putting away the groceries while she calmed.
In the living room, she sat in Ann’s chair by the sofa. She needed to clear the air and then keep things professional. “Sorry about last night. You were injured and vulnerable, and I took advantage.”
Emma’s blush consumed the spattering of freckles across her nose, and she looked at the floor. “I should apologize for flinging myself at you. I suck at relationships. It was my fault—the kiss, I mean. Don’t worry about it.”
Carter released a long sigh. Was she relieved or disappointed? Too much analyzing. “So, how’s the ankle?”
“Much better. Ann said another day’s rest should be enough. The jambalaya definitely took my mind off it for a while.”
Carter laughed aloud, remembering the first time she’d eaten the concoction. “She fed you Cass’s red-hot, gut-busting jambalaya?”
“It was delicious.” Emma’s eyes narrowed and the space between her brows wrinkled. “How did you come to live with Ann?”
She was going for the jugular. The question smashed against Carter’s chest like a deployed airbag. Breath gushed from her lungs, and she swallowed hard. “You’re the most direct person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m a reporter, and I’d like to know more about you.”
“It’s a short and boring story.” Carter felt the lines around her mouth tighten. She wasn’t going to offer any more information unless pressed. She prayed Emma wouldn’t do that.
Emma scooted to the end of the sofa and touched Carter’s arm. “You interest me, and I ask questions about things that interest me. Besides, I’m a captive audience.”
The energy from Emma’s touch shot up Carter’s arm and through her body. She felt helpless to resist Emma’s requests, no matter how painful.
“I don’t remember when I didn’t live with Ann.” Her voice sounded so timid she was reminded of the weeks and months she’d been totally without words. Carter rose, stoked the embers in the fireplace, and added more wood before returning to sit near Emma. “I was two years old when my parents were killed in an accident with an eighteen-wheeler on the interstate. I survived only because my mother covered me with her body just before impact.” She spoke coolly, emotionally disconnected, like reading the story from a newspaper.
Emma clutched her throat as if she couldn’t breathe, and her blue eyes, never leaving Carter’s, clouded with tears.
She’d tried to tell her story to Cass many years earlier, but she’d been too young and traumatized to say much or to even cry. She didn’t want to talk about it now. She could recite the details dispassionately because she’d heard them so many times through the years, but she couldn’t stop the resurgence of emotions as she gave voice to the horrific event. She felt frozen, her lips stiff to prevent any hint of tremble.
Emma slid closer, took Carter’s hands, and urged her to the sofa. “Come here.”
Carter shook her head. “You don’t have to…”
“I want to. Please?” She tried again, and this time Carter moved beside her. Emma eased her head onto her shoulder. “Let me hold you for a few minutes. You don’t have to say anything.”
And she didn’t. She couldn’t. She’d cried all her tears years before, but the comfort of Emma’s arms gave her the courage to speak the whole truth. “The hardest thing about living with Ann and Cass was how they were treated. They chose to love each other in a time when it wasn’t acceptable for two women to do that. Everybody knew about them, but no one talked about it. People just gave them a wide berth and looked at me with pity.”
Her limbs were heavy and weak as time passed, and she clung to Emma. “I’ve never even said that to Ann. It would hurt her too much.” As the fire flickered and dimmed, she realized it was almost dark outside. She eased from Emma’s arms, embarrassed by her meltdown. “I’m sorry.”
Emma placed her fingers over Carter’s lips. “Don’t ever be sorry for sharing your feelings with me. It’s a gift, and I’ll treasure it always. I’m sorry I brought up something so painful. I never want to hurt you.”
“It was a long time ago. Ann took me in because she was my only relative. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she clenched her jaw to keep them from falling.
“Ann was a godsend. I’m so very sorry about your parents. Is there anything I can do?”
“You listened, and you…held me. I haven’t been held in a nonsexual way in years. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t open up often. So thanks for that.” Time to lighten up. “I just hope what I’ve said doesn’t end up in your story.” She smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
With her fingers, Emma crossed her heart. “You have my word as a journalist.”
“Great.” She gave Emma a quick hug and rose before she got too comfortable again. “I’m acting like I don’t have anything to do. Since I knew you wouldn’t be mobile today, I brought the makings of a pretty decent dinner. Are you brave enough to risk my cooking?”
“There’s always Cass’s leftover jambalaya.”
“So you don’t trust me?”
“With my life. If you were going to kill me, you’d have let me die on the side of the mountain instead of rescuing me—twice.”
Carter stepped into the small kitchenette, sliced cheese and French bread, opened the olive jar, and washed grapes. She arranged everything on a dinner plate and placed it on the coffee table in front of Emma. “Do you like red wine?”
Emma’s azure eyes widened. “Um…”
“You don’t.”
“Well…I like it very much.”
“So, what’s the problem?” She couldn’t resist teasing Emma.
“It…makes me…”
“Horny?”
Emma’s blush turned her face crimson and she looked away. “How did you know?”
“It’s a scientific fact. Alcohol in small amounts increases libido. It stimulates the hypothalamus, which regulates body temperature, hunger, hormone levels, and sex drive.”
“How do you know that?”
“I may be a lowly park ranger, but I’m not uneducated.”
“But why would you specifically know about wine and sex drive?”
“Uh…” She didn’t consider her personal observations scientific proof, and she never boasted about her sexual liaisons.
“Experience. I see. Have you been with very many women?”
Emma’s stare held, and Carter was afraid she’d peer into the darkness of her soul. No one had asked that question before, so she’d never actually counted, wasn’t even sure she could remember them all. “A few.” She retreated to the kitchen before Emma detected the truth in her eyes.
“More like a few hundred, I’d guess.” Emma said.
“I’ll bring you a glass of wine to go with the munchies until everything else is ready.”
“Actually, I’d like to take a shower. I’m starting to feel like my clothes are permanently attached. Do I have time?”
“Take it easy.” Carter rushed to Emma’s side as she tried to get up from the sofa. “Can you manage?”
“If you’ll help me into the bedroom, I can manage from there.” Emma slipped her arm around Carter’s waist and leaned against her as they made their way slowly into the bedroom. “In the top of my suitcase.” She pointed to the bag resting atop the luggage valet. “Pull out the red lace teddy and a pair of sweats.”
Carter eyed her sideways as she bent to retrieve the items from Emma’s luggage. Being close to Emma again so soon after her epic control failure made Carter’s body sizzle. She wrote it off to a couple of sex
ual aphrodisiacs—emotions and adrenaline—and went for humor. “Something this sexy,” she raised the teddy, “should not be hidden under sweats.”
“Come on, Ranger. I’m dying here.”
So am I, but for entirely different reasons. She escorted Emma to the bathroom door and reached for a button on her blouse. “Need help getting into the shower?” She grinned. “I am a full-service ranger.”
“I wouldn’t let you touch me with your worst enemy’s hands right now. Out.” Emma slammed the door, leaving Carter aching on the other side.
Chapter Nine
The cool-shower spray needled Emma’s skin, but even as she hugged herself to stop shivering, the intimate moments she’d spent with Carter had her burning inside. What was happening to her? She’d taken the Stuart assignment to work and escape a commitment-phobic woman, not engage another one. But Carter had shared her deepest pain when she was normally so guarded, and her vulnerability tugged at Emma. Maybe Carter was the antidote to her lazy libido, at least one dose, or maybe she was something more entirely, something Emma hadn’t imagined she could have.
If nothing else, Carter’s concern and obvious attraction were releasing some of the self-doubt Sheri’s betrayal had raised. Maybe Carter could appreciate her imperfections and understand her quirky ways. Was she willing to make another move and risk a rejection like she’d received last night? She was heading down a very slippery slope, probably alone. She finished showering quickly and dressed, deciding to let the evening unfold naturally.
When she hobbled back into the living space, Carter was still scraping and chopping vegetables and humming a tune that sounded a bit like Elvis’s That’s All Right, Mama. Emma settled on the sofa and took the first sip of wine, enjoying its aggressive acidity and subsequent warmth. The smell of spices mixed with sautéing vegetables drifted through the cabin, and her stomach growled in response. “That smells fantastic. What is it?”
Carter turned from the stove. “You should’ve called. I would’ve helped you.”
“I’m good. So…what are you cooking?”
Carter waved a spatula in the air like she was creating air art and turned back to her cooking. “It’s my turn to ask questions.”
“Shoot. I have liquid courage.”
“So, what about you and your girlfriend?”
Emma spluttered part of her wine back into the glass so she wouldn’t choke. “What? What girlfriend?”
“The one who gave you that fresh-road-kill look.”
She flashed back to the scene in her bedroom and fiddled with her wineglass, unable to immediately find the words to describe her relationship with Sheri or its demise.
“You seemed upset when you arrived.” Carter returned to the living area and sat beside her on the sofa. “If I’m being too personal, you don’t have to answer.”
Emma considered the offer for a moment. “No, actually I want to. I might be able to let go if I talk about it.” She took a gulp of wine while trying to decide how much of her ineptness in relationships to reveal. She weighed that fear against her desire to be as open as Carter had been and began.
“I came home from work early to tell Sheri I’d reserved this awesome little cabin beside a lake in Virginia for a romantic getaway. She’d complained our sex life needed…a boost.” Carter would pass on a tryst for sure with that admission. Why was she exposing her faults to the only woman she’d ever found sexually attractive?
Carter took her hand and waited until Emma summoned the courage to look at her. “No judgment. I promise.”
The memory of that day settled like a culmination of all her relationship failures, and Emma struggled for a deep breath as the walls closed in on her. “I walked into the bedroom. They were in our bedroom, in our bed. Some brunette was going down on Sheri. If that wasn’t bad enough, when Sheri saw me standing there…she didn’t stop. She stared straight at me as her face flushed, her legs stiffened, and her body arched. I could’ve sworn she smiled when she grabbed the other woman’s head and held it against her, screaming as she climaxed.”
The small room was suddenly too quiet. She could almost feel the pity radiating from Carter. Emma choked down a sour taste with another gulp of wine. When she looked up, Carter was shaking her head.
“Seriously? In the bed you shared…and you watched?”
“I couldn’t move. My body just wouldn’t respond. I was totally shocked but, in retrospect, not all that surprised. She’d been complaining for months about our…I thought eventually I’d grow to love her and our sex life would improve—bad decision. If the attraction or chemistry isn’t there at the beginning, there’s not much chance it will do that. Lesson learned. I was never enough for her in that way. When I walked in on her with another woman, my confidence took quite a hit. And I was hurt, not about the sex part, but about the infidelity.”
For the first time she admitted Sheri’s betrayal had actually caused her pain, though she’d known for some time they weren’t right for each other. Why had she waited, forced Sheri’s hand? Why hadn’t she had the courage to leave sooner? How would Carter interpret her story? She felt strange talking about Sheri with Carter, probably because she was more attracted to Carter than she’d ever been to Sheri.
“Were you in love with her?” Carter asked.
She shook her head. “We socialized in the same groups, liked some of the same activities, and things just happened. You know?”
“Absolutely. I’m sorry about the breakup. Nobody deserves that. And FYI, relationships are about more than just sex.”
Emma hesitated, uncertain if she should probe deeper, but she couldn’t stifle her desire to know more about Carter’s past. “It sounds like you speak from experience.”
Carter’s eyes met hers and held. “Janice and I had been together three years when she told me she was in love with my best friend. I thought we had a good thing. Sex had never been a problem, but she wanted a commitment I couldn’t give her. Needless to say, I lost both of them. Now I’m strictly casual.”
“So you’re a player?”
“Ouch. I wouldn’t say that. I’m just not relationship material.”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman,” she said slowly. “Carter, I’d never experienced sexual chemistry with anyone until I met you. I’d always assumed my lack of interest was a physical defect or poor libido. Now I’m sparking like a downed power line.”
Carter tugged at her necklace. “I see.” She rose and poked the dying fire, churning the coals and laying on more wood. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to your candor.”
“Too much?”
Carter smiled. “Just surprising, in a refreshing way.” She placed a large log over the top of the fire. “Are you hungry yet? I’m starving.” She disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a large bowl of spicy-smelling food. She placed the bowl on the coffee table and poured Emma another glass of wine. “Now, poor lame journalist, relax and let yourself be pampered.”
Pulling a set of chopsticks from her back pocket, Carter unwrapped them. She sat cross-legged in front of Emma on the sofa and secured the bowl of food between them, scooting closer until their knees touched. Emma shivered in anticipation.
Carter guided the chopsticks carrying delicious-smelling vegetables to Emma’s mouth and teased her lips apart. The act was intimate, nurturing, and sexy as hell. The first taste that hit her tongue was spicy, and as she chewed the crunchy vegetables, a sweeter flavor emerged, like the woman sitting across from her—a complex blend of sweet and spice and so addictive.
The next time Carter held the chopsticks to her lips, Emma gently steered her hand back to the bowl. Energy surged through their joined hands. She placed the container of food on the coffee table, uncrossed Carter’s legs, and slid between them. She’d be humiliated if Carter stopped her again, but persistent desire pushed her past the warning of her frantically beating heart.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Emma.” The darkening of Cart
er’s brown eyes and the way she licked her lips betrayed her caution.
“Isn’t this exactly what you want—no strings? I want it too, but I’m not sure if I can…how to…” Her voice sounded foreign, her tone raw with need. She’d never been so honest with anyone about sex.
Carter inched closer, pulling Emma’s legs over her thighs. “What about your ankle? Does it hurt?”
“Other things hurt more.” She wanted only two things—to cool the prickly heat consuming her and have her first orgasm that wasn’t self-induced.
Carter threaded her fingers into Emma’s hair and combed the length of it down her back. “I’ve wanted to bury myself in your hair since the first time I saw you. I love the natural waves, and it feels like gliding through water.” She leaned forward and breathed in. “You smell like the woods at night. Delicious.”
Emma caressed Carter’s face and thrilled as her pupils dilated in response. The pools of deep brown were flawless expressions of desire, and she couldn’t wait to dive in. She skimmed Carter’s lips with her index finger and then slid it inside her mouth. “Suck this.”
“Mmm,” Carter moaned as she drew Emma’s finger in and out excruciatingly slowly. The slick heat of Carter’s mouth made Emma burn and moisten. Would Carter be as unvocal sexually as she was verbally? She’d love to be the one to make Carter scream her orgasm.
She nuzzled against Carter’s neck, inhaled her distinctive scent of musk and the outdoors, and kissed her way up. She was in uncharted territory, more comfortable being the submissive partner, but something in her needed to be released. She rimmed Carter’s outer ear with the tip of her tongue, dipped inside, and savored her quick intake of breath. Emma’s nipples pressed painfully against the fabric of her sweatshirt as the rise and fall of her pelvis became more urgent.
