Radclyffe - Turn Back Time

"I'll only be a minute," Wynter said as she led Pearce to the sofa, watching her carefully. She looked so drawn, so defeated, that all Wynter wanted was to hold her. "Okay? I'll be right back."

"Okay. Sure." Pearce shook her head and smiled as she settled into the corner of the sofa. "You sure I can't help?"

Wynter laughed. "Not much skill required." She leaned down and kissed Pearce again. "God, it's good to see you."

Before Wynter could straighten, Pearce caught her around the waist and pulled her down into her lap. Wynter ended up with her legs pulled up onto the sofa and her arms around Pearce's neck. Pearce pressed her face into the curve of Wynter's shoulder, her mouth open and questing against Wynter's throat.

"Oh, baby, what?" Wynter whispered, stroking the back of Pearce's neck. She kissed her forehead. "What's wrong?"

"I don't think I can take it anymore." Pearce lifted her head, her eyes dark with misery. "I'm so fucked up. I don't want to go back."

Wynter caught her breath. She stroked Pearce's cheek. "You're tired. Did you sleep at all this week?"

"Some. A little. I don't know."

"Have you talked with your father?"

Pearce laughed, the bitter sound of hopelessness. "What can I say? That I can't take it? That I can't cut it?" She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Wynter's shoulder. "You know what he always told me, since I was a kid?"

"What, baby?"

"God hates a coward."

Wynter was familiar with the phrase. It was another surgical mantra, another phrase designed to create confidence and conviction in the face of uncertainty. It worked for adults in the midst of a crisis, but for a child it would be an unbearable burden. "You are one of the bravest people I've ever known."

"No. That's what you are. You stood up to him."

"Pearce--"

"You did ." Pearce tilted her head back and opened her eyes. She brushed her fingers over Wynter's mouth. "You know what I thought about all week?"

"What?" Wynter's voice was low and rough, the blood heavy in her veins as arousal coursed through her.

"The way you taste." Slowly, Pearce ran her tongue along the edge of Wynter's jaw and down her neck.

Wynter gasped.

"The way you feel." Pearce caught the delicate skin just above Wynter's collarbone in her teeth and sucked.

Wynter made a small keening sound.

"The way you tremble when you come." Pearce teased the back of Wynter's blouse from her jeans and slid her hand beneath it. She walked her fingers up Wynter's spine and fanned her fingers between her shoulder blades, holding her captive as she kissed her. Gently at first, then deeper, harder, unable to get far enough inside her to fill her own empty places. She froze when she heard Wynter cry out and jerked away, groaning. "God. Did I hurt you?"

"No. No, baby, no."

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"I do," Wynter whispered. "I'm falling in love with you." She stood, her legs trembling but her face calm and strong. She took Pearce's hand. "Come upstairs."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Wynter draped a T-shirt she grabbed from a nearby chair over the doorknob, gently closed the bedroom door, and led Pearce to the bed.

"Where are the kids?" Pearce whispered as Wynter switched on a soft night-light.

"They're down the hall. They won't wake up. Don't worry."

Wynter kissed her softly. "And if they do, we'll hear them."

"What about Mina and Ken?"

"This is my old room--the guest room. Theirs is at the other end, on the far side of the kids. We're alone--more or less."

"Okay. If you're sure."

"Very." Wynter smiled and tugged Pearce's scrub shirt from her jeans. "Raise your arms." When Pearce did, she pulled the shirt off over her head along with the white cotton tank top she wore beneath. Looking down, she faltered, a fist of need tightening in the pit of her stomach.

She contented herself with brushing her fingers across Pearce's chest, when what she wanted was to lower her mouth to her breasts. She forced her fingers to open the top button on Pearce's jeans.

Pearce followed Wynter's movements, her breath hitching unevenly. The briefest glance of Wynter's fingers against her bare stomach made her muscles tighten, and she was instantly wet. "Should I worry that you're undressing me like you do Ronnie?"

"Trust me," Wynter said, her voice as thick as warm honey, "there is no similarity." She hooked her fingers around the denim and sat on the edge of the bed as she pulled the jeans down. "Boots."

Thighs suddenly trembling, Pearce steadied herself with a hand on Wynter's shoulder and kicked off the boots and her jeans along with them. When Wynter leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against Pearce's lower abdomen, Pearce shivered.

"Cold?" Wynter murmured, kissing Pearce's stomach before gliding her tongue just inside the small, tight circle of her navel.

"No," Pearce said hoarsely. She threaded her fingers into Wynter's hair and locked her knees to keep from falling.

"Your skin is always so hot." Wynter played her hands up and down Pearce's back before cradling her hips in her palms. She dipped her head and traced her tongue along the trough where lean thigh joined taut abdomen, then skimmed her lips over the silky triangle between Pearce's thighs to trace the other juncture as well. "I could get drunk on the scent of you." She kissed lower, tasting the first hint of desire on the very tip of her tongue.

"Christ," Pearce moaned, tilting her hips forward as her fists tightened in Wynter's hair. "I need your mouth."

"Do you?" Wynter's question was filled with wonder and supreme satisfaction. She teased her way along the hard core of Pearce's clitoris for an instant, and then stopped. "Hmm?" She glanced up quickly, not wanting to stop, but not wanting it to end. She loved feeling Pearce grow rigid beneath her hands, hard against her lips. She loved knowing that she was the cause of Pearce's pleasure. The last time, Pearce had led and she had followed. She reached up and fanned her fingers over Pearce's breast. "Tell me what you need."

Pearce nearly sobbed as she looked down, her face tight with need.

"I want to be with you. I need...to be with you."

It wasn't what Wynter had expected, and her insides twisted with how much she wanted to take away the pain she heard in Pearce's voice.

She brushed her fingers up the inner slope of Pearce's thigh, then gently parted her. "I'm here." She played her tongue over swollen tissues and heard Pearce hiss in a breath. "Right here." She sucked her carefully, aware of the distant sound of labored breathing and low, guttural moans.

She kept her strokes light and slow, not wanting her to come. It was too perfect. Too unbelievably special for it to be over too quickly.

"Wynter," Pearce gasped. "Let me come."

"I will," Wynter whispered, kissing her one last time. Then she stood and kissed Pearce's mouth. "Let's go to bed and I'll put you to sleep."

"You make me want you so bad."

"Good." Wynter unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall. She kissed Pearce again. "I want to make you come. I want you to want me everywhere. All the time." She unbuttoned her slacks. "I want to make you mine."

Pearce swayed, fatigue replaced by a desperate urge to lose herself in Wynter's arms. "What you said before...about loving me?"

Wynter halted in the midst of hurriedly shedding her clothes and met Pearce's gaze. "Yes."

"Does that make you happy?"

"Oh yes." Wynter caressed Pearce's cheek. "Oh yes." She pulled back the covers, slid under, and held out her hand. "Come."

Pearce followed, settling on her back with a sigh. "I missed you so much."

"Last weekend, I was afraid I'd lost you," Wynter murmured, moving over Pearce. She straddled her thigh, pressing her leg high up between Pearce's. "You're so wet. I love to do that to you."