Radclyffe - Turn Back Time

"I love the way you smell," Pearce groaned, licking the undersurface of Wynter's jaw. "And taste." She pulled the shirt from the back of Wynter's jeans and slid her hand underneath. "Oh man, your skin's so hot." She caught an earlobe in her teeth and tugged at it. "I want you so bad. Jesus, Wynter." She raked her teeth down Wynter's neck, then licked the faint red mark she'd left behind. "Tell me what you want."

"Pearce." Wynter held her tightly, feeling her tremble, knowing she was holding back. "Pearce." She pressed her mouth to Pearce's ear.

"I want you too. I do." She twisted her fingers into Pearce's hair and turned her head until she could find her mouth. She ran her tongue over Pearce's lips, thrust into her mouth, nipped at her jaw. She finally pulled back, gasping. "Oh, I do. Can we just...wait. Just go a little slower?"

Pearce pressed her forehead to Wynter's shoulder, forcing herself to breathe, trying to clear her head, struggling to tamp down the terrible yearning. "Okay. Okay." She shuddered. "Okay."

"God, you're so sexy," Wynter moaned, still holding Pearce close.

She nestled her cheek on Pearce's shoulder. "Now I really need that distraction. Can I interest you in dinner?"

Pearce laughed shakily. "As opposed to hot monkey sex with you?"

"Uh-huh."

Pearce kissed Wynter's forehead and stroked her cheek with trembling fingers. "Sure. I'd like that."

Wynter leaned back, her eyes heavy-lidded and hazy with lingering arousal. "You're not mad?"

"No," Pearce whispered. She cupped Wynter's chin, then kissed her eyelids and finally her mouth. "No. There's no hurry."

"I'm not so sure. I feel as if something might explode," Wynter confided as Pearce moved away. She caught Pearce's hand, unwilling to let her go very far.

Pearce grinned. "I hope so."

Wynter laughed and tugged Pearce toward the kitchen. "Come on. I slaved over this, so I expect you to make appropriate sounds of gratitude."

"Considering it's the first meal that a woman has ever cooked for me, I'll probably get on my knees in thanks."

Wynter arched an eyebrow. "That could be interesting."

Pearce stopped abruptly and pulled her into her arms again. She brushed the rim of Wynter's ear with her tongue until she felt Wynter shudder. "Careful. Don't tease if you want me to go slow."

Wynter's breath came in shallow gasps. "Can't I have both?"

"You can have anything you want," Pearce murmured, her mouth against Wynter's neck. In some part of her mind, beyond the madness of desire, she feared that might be true.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"Can I help with something?" Pearce stood next to the kitchen table watching Wynter toss a salad, feeling helpless and inadequate. She hadn't been kidding when she'd said that a woman had never cooked dinner for her before--not counting her mother, who had cooked but usually left it to the housekeeper, or her grandmother.

Somehow, it didn't seem right for Wynter to be doing all the work.

"You can open that bottle of wine you brought," Wynter said as she peered into the oven. "This roast looks done. There's a corkscrew in the drawer on the far left of the counter. I hope you're hungry."

"Starving."

Wynter closed the oven door and turned slowly. "If we're going to get through dinner, you can't speak to me in that tone of voice."

The corner of Pearce's mouth quirked upward. "What tone?"

"That smoky, hungry, sexy tone. It goes right through me."

Every muscle in Pearce's body twitched. "Then stop saying things like that. It makes me want to jump you."

Wynter smiled a satisfied smile. "Fair is fair." She pointed toward the counter. "Corkscrew."

Pearce did as directed. She'd never met a woman who could control her so easily with just a smile. She'd been with beautiful women, smart women, sexy women, hot demanding avaricious women, but she'd never been anywhere near a woman who could turn her upside down with a glance. Hell, not even a glance, a single word. "This is crazy."

"What?"

"Nothing. Glasses?"

"Um...water glasses will have to do. I haven't found the wineglasses yet."

"Hell, I'd drink this out of a jelly glass."

"Don't laugh--it might come to that." Wynter placed the serving platter in the center of the table. She'd set two places adjacent to one another at one end, and although she couldn't find her good dishes, she had found the candles. She lit them with a flourish. "There."

"It looks great." Pearce put the wine bottle down on the table and slid her arms around Wynter's waist from behind and hugged her gently.

She rubbed her cheek against Wynter's hair. "Thank you."

Wynter leaned back and folded her arms over Pearce's, closing her eyes. Pearce's breath was warm against her cheek, her body solid and strong. She felt arousal awaken from the restless slumber to which she had remanded it a short time before and welcomed the resurgence of excitement. She loved the way Pearce made her feel. Desired and desirable. Alive.

She turned her head and kissed the corner of Pearce's mouth.

"I should also mention you're not allowed to touch me until after dinner."

"It's hard not to." Pearce turned Wynter around and kissed her on the mouth. She played her hands over Wynter's shoulders, stroked down her arms, and then settled them on her waist. She kissed her slowly, deeply, enjoying the taste and heat of her mouth. She kept her touch light, her body still, not pressing for more than the kiss. When she drew back, Wynter's eyes were cloudy, her neck flushed. "You're very beautiful."

Wynter drew a shuddering breath and placed her hands flat against Pearce's chest, her fingertips resting on her collarbones. "When you say it like that, I believe it."

"Wynter," Pearce murmured. She forced herself to take a step backward, still holding Wynter, but at arm's length--out of kissing range. "We should have dinner."

Despite a surge of disappointment, Wynter nodded, knowing it was what she had asked for. At the moment she couldn't quite remember why. And God, it was hard to think of anything except the heat in Pearce's eyes, the magic in her hands. "Can I just tell you how much I love it when you touch me?"

"No," Pearce said fiercely. "I'm dying here, give me a break."

"Try to hang on," Wynter lifted Pearce's hand from her waist and kissed her knuckles, which still showed signs of bruises, "and I'll try to be good."

Pearce tapped Wynter's chin with her finger. "You could start by trying not to torment me."

Wynter nipped at the end of Pearce's finger. "But I love to watch your eyes get all dark and--"

"Damn it, Wynter. Stop."

Laughing, Wynter moved away and gestured to the chairs. "Sit down. Let's eat this if we're not going to do anything else."

Shaking her head, Pearce settled beside Wynter. "I really am hungry."

"Good," Wynter said as she dished out the food.

Because they were used to eating together at the hospital, they fell into easy conversation about their cases and the upcoming rotations and other residents. Before Pearce realized it, she had cleaned her plate twice. She leaned back from the table with a groan. "God, that was great."

"You're certainly easy to please," Wynter remarked, pleased herself at Pearce's obvious enjoyment. She couldn't remember when doing something so simple for someone else had given her such satisfaction. When she saw the grin tug at the corner of Pearce's mouth, she held up her hand. "Don't start."

"You might regret saying that," Pearce said playfully, catching Wynter's hand. Their fingers entwined and she did not let go. "One of these days when you're crazy for me."

"Pretty sure of yourself."

Pearce looked down at their clasped hands resting on the tabletop.

It looked and felt so natural to be connected to Wynter this way, and at the same time, it was wholly foreign to her. Nothing that had transpired between them was new--she'd kissed women whom she'd known far less well than Wynter, and she'd had quick sexual encounters in dark corners and a few other semipublic places. But she'd never felt the urge to run the way she had last night. She looked up and met Wynter's worried gaze and smiled wryly. "I'm sorry I took off on you last night."