Dark Valentine Page 2

  But Kate didn’t seem comfortable in the kind of trophy-wife clothing Jules was used to seeing at South Beach when she partied with the team from the Miami office. Her body language and micro-expressions were at odds with her seductive appearance, and now that Jules was paying closer attention, she could read between those lines. The only reason a nice girl steps out wearing fuck-me clothes is to prove something. She ran through the obvious possibilities. Recently broken up and trying to get back in the game. Straight and in a lesbian bar on a dare, her friends waiting outside.

  Jules sighed. It would be nice, for a change, if she could take something or someone at face value, if she were not trained to read the most subtle cues. Life would be so much simpler.

  She watched Kate get serious with her vodka, draining the glass in a series of gulps. Her skin was flushed and her movements were losing their grace.

  “Another?” Jules asked.

  Kate looked slightly dazed. Her eyes dropped to her empty glass and registered surprise. “Oh, I finished it.”

  “You did.” Jules waited for her to decide she’d had enough, but Kate gave a nonchalant shrug.

  “Thanks, I will have another.”

  Jules was never comfortable sleeping with a woman who’d had too much to drink. But the night was wearing on and she wanted to get out of here, preferably with company. Resigning herself to being the designated driver, she returned to the bar.

  Less than five minutes later Kate was downing the next double like it was water.

  Jules said, “Whoa. You might want to slow down.”

  “I’m not drunk.” Kate giggled. “Okay, maybe a little.”

  If she didn’t want to carry this woman out, it was time to leave. “How about this?” Jules suggested. “Let’s go back to Casitas, change into comfortable clothes, and have a nightcap by the pool.”

  “Yes, good idea.” Kate fiddled awkwardly with her handbag. It fell on the floor, spilling half its contents beneath the table. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.” Jules shoveled everything back into the purse and returned it. Any minute the multiple vodkas would kick in and Kate would be non compos mentis. Jules wrote her room number on a cocktail napkin and slid it across the table. “This is where you can find me. See how you feel when we get back. If you want to call it a night, fine. If you don’t, just dial the room. And the other thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not expecting anything. Do you understand?”

  A wobbly smile. “Yes.”

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Jules helped her up and escorted her toward the door, a guiding hand at the base of her spine. “I’ll drive you. No argument.”

  Kate acquiesced without a word, and Jules let her hand drift slightly lower. The arch of her back was so very tempting, she had to exercise self-control not to caress it, not to slide her hand down to cup the rounded perfection of her butt. However, this was not the time to unsettle her quarry with a hasty move. Jules hadn’t abandoned her plan to spend the night with this woman, but she detected an ambivalence in her that rang alarm bells. Even if Kate wanted to give the impression that she knew the score, Jules had a feeling she was out of her depth.

  Women had all kinds of reasons for hooking up with strangers, and Kate’s were none of Jules’s business. But if they slept together, the experience needed to be good for both of them; otherwise, what was the point? She opened the passenger door and waited for Kate to get settled. The dress was hitched up over one tempting thigh and as Kate fumbled with the seat belt, Jules got an eyeful of breasts so beautiful she almost whined.

  Whatever this winsome babe’s reservations were, Jules hoped she would get over them and decide to call her. As they drove back to the inn, she had her doubts. Kate was obviously a nice woman. Probably too nice.

  Chapter Two

  Bad stuff happened to women all the time and they didn’t turn into neurotic wrecks who couldn’t stand to be touched.

  Get over it! Rhianna ordered herself. She was spending money she couldn’t afford, staying at a lesbian inn hundreds of miles from Oatman, Arizona, the ghost town she now called “home.” She had been stood up by the woman she had traveled to see, and when a highly attractive alternative had presented itself she’d chickened out. What was wrong with her? She’d promised herself that no matter what, she would go through with this.

  Perched on the end of her bed, she studied the digital clock on her night table, trying to bring the numbers into focus. Her head swam and she felt fuzzy and sluggish. Twenty minutes had passed since she’d showered and changed. She had hoped she would start sobering up by now. Instead she felt alternately giggly and sad.

  It was crazy to hide in her room, she knew that. If she waited any longer Jules would give up on her. There were other women staying here, some cute and obviously single. Maybe one of them was out by the pool now, just waiting to offer hot sex. Rhianna had a mental flash of two bodies writhing in passion. She was immediately despondent. Even if she took Jules up on her offer, she’d probably blown her chances already. Jules had stopped flirting with her before they left the bar, and had hardly spoken a word all the way back to Casitas.

  Rhianna wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing her opportunity evaporate. Relieved. Let down. Frustrated. A dull, distant anger shadowed her like a dark mist, swirling around the edges of her thoughts, reminding her that she had failed to beat this thing. She had set out on this journey with a plan that seemed workable, but she had sabotaged herself. The truth was, she had lost control over her life and was too weak to take it back again. How pathetic.

  She wished she could magically become someone else, not just change her clothes and hair so she looked like someone else. There were confident, sexy women everywhere. She wanted to feel like them. That breed of woman would not be sitting here alone in her room, feeling sorry for herself. She would be having a good time.

  Impulsively, Rhianna picked up the phone and dialed room 28. She almost dropped the receiver when Jules answered.

  “It’s me. Rhi—” She coughed to cover her blunder. For a split second her false name eluded her. Trembling, she told herself Kate Kate Kate. “I’m sorry I took so long. I needed a shower. I’m quite drunk.”

  “I know.”

  “Thank you for driving me back here.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Rhianna held her breath as the silence between them grew. Jules was making her do the work. It was almost funny how frightened she was for no reason at all. The thought made her choke back a laugh. What was the worst thing that could happen? One of those fumbly, awkward encounters no one wants to think about the next morning?

  On a sharp exhalation, she blurted, “Can we just go to bed?”

  The pause that followed was long enough to rattle her. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” Rhianna defied the voices hammering in the back of her mind.

  “Then come on over. My door’s open.”

  “Where’s your room?”

  “Next to yours.” The tone was one of patient amusement.

  Rhianna stifled hysterical laughter. How did she not know that? “Okay. I’m coming.”

  She dropped the phone back into its stand with a clatter. Her heart felt too big for her chest, crushing the air from her lungs. Before she had time to talk herself out of her decision, she marched out the door in the straightest line she could manage and fled into the clement night.

  You won’t be sorry, she promised herself. This is going to change everything.

  *

  The shorts, the thin cotton shirt. Jules discarded them next to the bed. Tonight’s plaything was braless and her breasts were fuller than Jules had expected, small perfectly shaped globes. They were lightly tanned like the rest of her, the nipples a tawny hue. As Jules worked the panties down she noted sparse ash hair and concluded she was about to sleep with a blonde.

  She had already guessed that the brilliant coppery hair came from a bottle. K
ate’s skin was not the buttermilk pale usually sported by natural redheads, and there wasn’t a freckle on her, not even across her shoulders. Her eyebrows and lashes were very dark, almost black, another giveaway. They could be dyed, but nature also bestowed that combination on blondes sometimes. Not that it mattered. Jules wasn’t one of those people who had a thing for a certain hair or skin tone. So long as there was some chemistry, her prospective pillow friends only had to be clean and speak in complete sentences.

  She ran her hands slowly down the beautiful body that was hers to pleasure, appreciating its sleek musculature. She wanted to be more excited than she felt, but she sensed an unease in Kate that kept her own arousal in check. Unsure whether she was queasy from alcohol or genuinely apprehensive, Jules asked, “Are you sure about this?”

  The reply was tactile. One hand drifted up beneath Jules’s tee to cup her right breast, the other found her cheek. Kate stepped in closer and her lips moved slowly against Jules’s, sending a hot shock of awareness through her. “Let’s not talk.”

  All of a sudden Jules was anchored in the moment, caught up in a skin-prickling thrill of anticipation. Her mouth flooded. Desire gnawed, deep in her gut. Her nipples grew raw, grating tensely against the cotton of her tee. Too much time had slipped by without a woman. It had been months, and her body was letting her know all too plainly that relief was overdue. She stripped quickly. Her heart raced, her temples pounded, her clit pulsed. Her hands shook as she explored Kate’s warm, smooth curves.

  She took complete control of the kiss, parting the soft lips sealed to her own and propelling Kate firmly back against the bed. As the kiss intensified, Kate arched against her, clasping her hands firmly behind Jules’s neck. When Jules paused for air, Kate begged, “Don’t stop,” and ground seductively against her.

  “I haven’t even started,” Jules said.

  She kissed a path along the goose-bumped plane from throat to shoulder and sank her teeth in just below the serpentine throb of the jugular. Cradled in her hands, Kate’s breasts felt increasingly heavy with arousal. Jules nudged a knee between her thighs and applied pressure until Kate responded in kind, bearing down, moving her hips, opening her legs wider.

  Wetness spread where Jules’s thigh worked the crushable seam of flesh. Her own responses started galloping. Quite suddenly, she was desperate for touch and intent on the buildup before release. She could feel her own moisture gathering, her clit straining in appeal. She moved her palms back and forth against Kate’s nipples while her own ached for attention.

  Urgently, she murmured in Kate’s ear, “Touch me.”

  Their eyes met, their hearts pounded together through fragile bone and flesh. Kate’s pupils flooded huge and black within a ring of green gold. Her face was hard to read. For several seconds, she studied Jules, then she dragged a single fingertip from her bottom lip to her sternum. There was a subtle alteration in her expression, a breath unevenly released. Her gaze seemed inward-looking, and for a fleeting instant Jules had a sense that just being present took all the emotional energy she had.

  Before she could confirm her impression, Kate’s eyes grew bright with avid concentration and she turned her attention to Jules’s breasts, teasing her fingers over the sensitive skin. With perfect pressure, she flattened both hands over the nipples and toyed mercilessly with them. At the same time, her mouth wreaked havoc, sucking, kissing, and biting until Jules could hardly stay upright. She yelped softly as her nipples were clamped between Kate’s fingers and tugged hard. Sweat broke across her forehead, and naked craving stole through her veins, making her limbs heavy with supplication.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Jules couldn’t tell if the question was a tease or if Kate was really concerned. Her expression seemed glazed. Transfixed with lust, or just drunk and barely holding it together? Jules hoped she wouldn’t pass out before they could both get off.

  “It hurts good,” she replied thickly.

  Kate smiled and lowered her head to add yet another exquisite sensation to the mix. Her tongue roved from one nipple to the other, both still jutting between the fingers that compressed them. Jules groaned, captive suddenly to the need boiling up from deep in her core, seeking an answer in naked, hard coupling. She caught Kate’s wrists, flung her hands aside, and toppled her roughly onto the bed. She had intended to indulge in a slow, languorous seduction, but it was too late. Her body had been condemned to solitary confinement for too long.

  She moved over Kate, scissoring their legs and coming to rest where the pressure at her groin was most intense. Both breathing unevenly, they released small pants as they built a rhythm together. Kate splayed her legs wider and Jules bore down, sinking fast into a hot oblivion of desire.

  She wanted to roll over and push Kate down between her own legs, but at the same time she loved being right here, climbing the razor’s edge of arousal before the inevitable plummet to release. She wanted to stretch time, to wring every ounce of divine yearning from the moment, but she was always so driven, so hungry to reach the pinnacle. Past experience had taught her self-discipline and she called upon the art now, breaking her single-minded focus just enough to impose her will. Holding back was always worth it. When her tension finally shattered and she fell into orgasm, the plunge would be all the more profound.

  Shifting her weight to one elbow, she zeroed in on the slippery gateway of flesh where Kate’s body opened to hers. She drew her fingers slowly back and forth, her focus sharpened by adrenaline. A rush of awe stifled her breathing as she looked down to watch her fingers slowly vanish between the parted folds. Even if she had wanted to switch focus to her own clamoring body, she couldn’t. She was too caught up in the wetness and beauty that were hers to enjoy.

  Her fingers were gripped and drawn deeper. Kate’s eyelids fluttered, and she stared up at Jules with a disturbing mix of intensity and cool distance. An uncertain silence stretched out between them. Was Kate a participant in this feverish ritual or an onlooker? Jules could not tell. She stilled her hand, aware of a disconnect.

  Seeking a way to check in without destroying the mood, she murmured, “More?”

  “Yes.” Her accomplice seemed fully present again. “Don’t stop.”

  Jules changed position, trailing kisses down Kate’s belly, drawing upon her honeyed tang until all doubt was locked out and there was room only for sensation. Their bodies moved in synch and Jules finally felt attuned to the subtle cues she’d missed until now. Kate’s fingers signaled her needs, sliding across Jules’s scalp, playing a delicate staccato of stop and go. As her arousal climbed, her soft moans became guttural and the roll of her hips more pronounced.

  Jules extended her tongue across the arch of flesh she’d already stroked rigid. Seeking out the tiny gleaming organ it sheltered, she gently sucked and pressured. Her steady, insistent caresses drew sharp little begging cries, and she moved down the bed so she could adjust the angle of her hand. Kate’s body slithered against hers with unmistakable craving. She was close, so close. Shivering. Pink-faced. Her head thrown back like she had lost all track of time, place, and even the presence of another. She seemed far away in her own private universe, spellbound in her surrender.

  Jules suppressed a selfish urge to speak her name and summon her into the present just because she wanted to feel joined on some level other than the purely physical. Intimacy, no matter how casual, was always more than a mere transaction of the flesh for her. Something else had to exist when two people conspired to grant each other pleasure, if only a shared recognition that the sacred could be found in all physical union.

  Eventually, Jules felt the muscles around her fingers compress, and a small quivering ripple augured the tremors to follow. Breathing hard, she surfaced from between Kate’s legs, wanting to watch. She loved to see a woman come.

  Kate needed no more stimulation. A hoarse, involuntary cry of release tore from her as spasms rocked her body. Eventually, leaving her fingers snugly sheathed, Jules slid her free arm beneath
her panting companion and coaxed her into an embrace. They lay, in wordless aftermath, their bodies heaving together at first, then settling into satisfaction.

  As her own deep, sweet pulses subsided, Rhianna allowed herself to sink onto Jules’s chest, taking refuge in the warm press of flesh and bone. Peace stole over her and she drifted in a haze of serenity. Her breathing slowed. Lulled by the hypnotic thunder of Jules’s heart, she felt incredibly safe for the first time in months. For a long while, they lay communing like two solitary travelers who found themselves stranded on the same lonely road.

  Rhianna felt a small pang as Jules’s hand eased free of its hot, wet cocoon. Holding her even closer, Jules said, “I can tell this was hard for you, and I’m not sure why. Is everything okay?”

  Self-conscious, and surprised that this woman had picked up on her wavering emotions, Rhianna said, “It wasn’t anything you did. You’re a very good lover.”

  “So are you.” Jules’s mouth brushed her hair and her cheek. “And when you get your breath back, I’d like to take advantage of that.”

  Their lips met. Eyes closed, they kissed deeply.

  “Will you do something for me?” Rhianna asked, then wished she had simply kept quiet. Did she really want to put into words the fantasy that preyed on her mind? What would Jules think of her?

  “Talk to me,” Jules whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

  “Can I tie you up?” Rhianna prepared herself for dismay and shock, but there was only the briefest hesitation.

  “Do you want me to resist?”

  “No. I just want to…” Rhianna thought, Be serious. A complete stranger could not be expected to consent to some kind of bondage scenario. She was puzzled by the urge to act out this fantasy. Normally, she was vanilla in her desires. Embarrassed, she said, “It doesn’t matter. Forget I even asked.”

  But Jules was smiling. “Don’t try to make sense of a fantasy. I’m cool with being tied up, and if something doesn’t feel right, I’ll tell you I’ve had enough. And that’s when we stop. Okay?”