Radclyffe - Word of Honor

“How do you feel about it?”

“Uneasy. Uncomfortable.”

“Then he’ll have to be content with the social events of the next few days,” Dana said, “and the interviews I already have.”

Emory looked surprised. “Just like that? You’ll ditch the story?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Dana shrugged. “It isn’t. But I care about you, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because of something I’ve done.” She leaned closer, her mouth close to Emory’s cheek. “I only want to make you uncomfortable in a good way.”

Emory laughed a little shakily. “You’re succeeding.”

“Glad to hear it.” Dana risked stroking Emory’s cheek. She wasn’t so much concerned that someone would see them as she was at her inability to stop at a simple touch. She’d thought about Emory all day, thought about kissing her, thought about the hot, sultry taste of her mouth and the way her lips slid over hers when they kissed. She imagined how it would feel to hold her breasts in her hands, to squeeze and mold them until Emory whimpered.

Fantasizing about Emory had kept her pleasantly occupied on the slopes when she couldn’t keep up with Emory and Blair. She could ski, but with nothing like their speed and skill. She hadn’t minded. She’d been more interested in watching Emory than the slopes, anyhow. She’d loved how athletically graceful and exuberantly free Emory had been. She wanted to put that look of unfettered joy on her face. Without thinking, she cupped Emory’s cheek.

“Dana,” Emory murmured, leaning into Dana’s hand. “You can interview me, as long as we’re clear that only what I tell you during the course of the interview itself gets into print.”

“Okay,” Dana said, her voice husky.

Emory searched Dana’s face, her eyes questioning. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

“I couldn’t be more excited.” Dana brushed her thumb over the corner of Emory’s mouth. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. I want to kiss you—everywhere.”

Emory caught her breath, a spiral of excitement coursing through her. She gripped the wooden railing with one hand and squeezed tightly, hoping Dana couldn’t tell she was trembling. She’d been standing in the dark, watching the incredible night sky unfold overhead, and trying to imagine a casual physical encounter with Dana. She was far from a blushing virgin, and the idea of being with a woman didn’t seem strange. Diane and Blair weren’t her first lesbian friends and even if they had been, she’d thought of being with a woman before. She just hadn’t met one she wanted, not the way she wanted Dana. The idea of sex with Dana disconcerted her, not because Dana was a woman, but because Emory wanted her so much. She’d never craved another’s touch the way she craved Dana’s, as if the need were more than physical. Nothing ever distracted her, especially when she decided to put something from her mind. But she couldn’t keep Dana from her thoughts. She was aware of her, no matter where she was in a room. Just looking at her gave her a twinge of pleasure. She could even handle a one-night stand, if that’s the way things turned out. What worried her was that one short night might not assuage her hunger. “I don’t know what to do about you.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Do you?” Emory pulled away, gently breaking their contact. “I want to go to bed with you and I have no idea why.”

“Do you like me?”

Emory laughed. “I do.”

“Good, because I like you too.” Dana glanced through the window behind her to the interior of the lodge. Figures moved beyond the glass, but they were alone on the veranda. She unzipped her ski parka and then did the same to Emory’s. Turning her back to the railing, she leaned against a post and pulled Emory close. Their coats opened to allow their bodies to touch. Emory settled into the vee between her thighs and Dana wrapped her arms around Emory’s waist. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day.”

“Then perhaps you should.”

When their mouths met, Emory snugged her pelvis tighter into Dana’s crotch and gripped the waistband of Dana’s jeans with both hands. They fit together as if they had kissed a thousand times.

Dana meant to go slow, but the tease of Emory’s tongue between her lips was like fuel to a fire and desire blazed through her, destroying restraint. She deepened the kiss and skimmed one hand under Emory’s sweater, sliding up to cup her breast. When Emory moaned and pressed into her palm, her mind emptied of thought and her body surged with uncontrollable want. She sucked on Emory’s tongue and found her nipple through the thin silk covering her breast. When she squeezed, Emory shuddered against her.

“God, Dana, I can’t do this here.”

“I’m sorry,” Dana groaned, forcing her hand away from Emory’s breast. “I’m so sorry.”

Emory pressed trembling fingers to Dana’s mouth. “Don’t say that. I think I’m the one who told you to kiss me.”

“You didn’t tell me to start pawing at you,” Dana said, disgusted with herself for not treating Emory more carefully. “I just couldn’t stop.”

“I love knowing you want me.” Emory rested her forehead against Dana’s. She took a slow breath and let it out. “Would you come to my cabin tonight?”

Dana kissed her very carefully. “Are you sure?”

Emory withdrew a key from her pocket and pressed it into Dana’s hand. “I’m very sure.”

“When?” Dana said urgently.

Emory laughed, loving the sound of desire in her voice. “I promised Blair I’d partner with her at cards for a while. After that, I’m all yours.”

“Blair seems relaxed,” Marcea said.

“That’s because she’s winning.” Cam leaned back on the sofa next to her mother, crossing her legs at the ankle. She sipped her wine and enjoyed the sight of Blair laughing, her hair loose, dressed in faded jeans and a navy V-neck sweater that made her eyes seem impossibly blue. At moments like this, Cam was both saddened and joyful. Blair’s rare exuberance reminded her of just how much the burden of being a public figure, and lately, a secret target, weighed on her. If Cam could give her anything, it would be peace of mind. But as that was beyond her ability, she would give her as much freedom to be herself, safe and unafraid, as she could. “She loves competition.”

Marcea softly tapped Cam’s knee. “It seems you’re well matched in that regard.”

Cam chuckled. “True.”

“Are you looking forward to Saturday?”

“I am.” Cam shifted her gaze from her lover to her mother. “It means something, to say out loud in front of friends and family what you know to be true in your heart.”

“It does. I’m so happy for you, Cameron.” She touched Cam’s hand. “So if you’re not nervous, what is it that’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” Cam said quickly.

“I imagine that doesn’t work with Blair,” Marcea observed easily, “any more than it does with me. I’ve been hearing the things you don’t say for a good many years.”

Cam studied her wine. “Nothing specific, but ever since September…” She shrugged. “I can’t help feeling something else is coming, and not knowing when or how or from where makes me uneasy.”

“This seems like an ideal location,” Marcea observed. “Only one main access road, the individual cabins are not too isolated despite being private, and we’re halfway up a mountain. I would imagine securing your perimeter is easier here than it would be in the city.”

“You learned a lot as an ambassador’s wife.” Cam smiled, but they both knew caution wasn’t enough. It hadn’t saved her father from being killed by a car bomb.