Radclyffe - Crossroads

Quinn swung around on the edge of the bed, leaned down, and kissed her. “It won’t be in fifteen minutes.”

“Mmm.” Honor curled around Quinn and laced her arms around Quinn’s waist, running her palms over Quinn’s abdomen. Quinn sucked in a breath and Honor smiled. She stroked the length of Quinn’s thigh, her body stirring as muscles tensed under her hand. “You could have told her you’d ride after work tonight, you know.”

“Too uncertain.” Quinn swung her legs back onto the bed, settled against the headboard, and drew Honor into her arms. “I’m on backup call, and you know what summers are like.”

“Triple the trauma admissions. Believe me, I know.” Honor sighed and rested her cheek on Quinn’s chest, basking in the soft, steady sound of her breathing and the unwavering beat of her heart. This was home—the heart of her existence. “You’re awfully good to do this with her.”

“Self-preservation.” Quinn stroked Honor’s back, lightly drawing strands of hair through her fingers. “She wants to ride in the breast cancer Ride for Life at the end of the summer, and there’s no way she’s going alone. It’s ninety miles, and I’ll have to work my ass off to get into shape.”

Honor chuckled and pressed her lips to Quinn’s chest. Strong muscles, soft skin. Miraculous. “I’d volunteer to go with you, but honestly, the idea of riding that far makes me want to run screaming in the other direction.”

“You can cheer us on.”

Honor laughed softly. “Always wanted to be a cheerleader.”

“Those short little skirts are really hot.” Quinn tugged Honor on top of her, entwining their legs.

“Forget it.”

Quinn cradled her ass, guiding her over the familiar rise of her thigh. “Too late. The image is already in my mind. Do they still make pom-po—”

Honor bit Quinn’s lower lip.

“Okay.” Quinn arched beneath her, groaning softly. “No pom-poms.”

Honor’s head pounded with the pressure against her clitoris. Bracing her hands on either side of the pillow, she held herself just above Quinn’s body, her breasts gently brushing Quinn’s. Hot skin stroked her swelling clit. “This is not going to get you out onto a bicycle. And if you keep it up, I guarantee you’re going to be uncomfortable while you’re riding.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll chance it.” Quinn kissed her again, a slow, deep, familiar glide of tongues, a teasing brush of lips.

Honor’s mind went blank and her blood raced. She fisted her hands in Quinn’s hair and pressed into Quinn, riding Quinn’s hard muscles, propelling herself higher, striving for the crest. So soon, so good. “Oh my God.”

“That’s right, baby,” Quinn whispered, one arm holding Honor tightly to her, the other guiding her hips. “I love when you do this.”

Honor buried her face in Quinn’s neck, muffling her cry as pleasure broke over her like sunshine bursting from behind clouds. She trembled and let herself fall into the firm certainty of Quinn’s embrace.

“Oh yeah.” Quinn rolled her over and rose above her, kissing her closed eyelids, her mouth, her neck. Her body was hot and slick and hard. “I love you.”

Honor scored her nails lightly down Quinn’s back and massaged the tense muscles in her ass. “I love you. Beyond everything. I wasn’t even thinking of sex five minutes ago.”

Quinn nuzzled her neck. “I was.”

“I think that’s the first thing you think of when you open your eyes.”

Quinn laughed, kissed Honor lightly, and rolled off. She tangled her fingers with Honor’s, her strong surgeon’s hands gentle and sure. “Second thing. First thing is how right it is to have you beside me and the kids asleep in the other rooms. Then all I can think of is wanting you.”

“Get out of this bed if you plan to go, otherwise you’re going to have to think up—”

A door slammed down the hall and footsteps raced toward their room. A knock came on their door.

“Quinn? You up?”

Quinn pulled the sheet over Honor’s nude body and grabbed the T-shirt from the chair beside the bed. She yanked it on over her head. “Yup. Just getting dressed.”

“Five minutes,” Arly said in a voice that sounded so much like Honor, Quinn could only laugh.

“I hear you,” Quinn called.

“Meet you downstairs.”

Quinn looked over her shoulder at Honor. “Too late. Hold that thought?”

“Darling,” Honor said, “at the first opportunity. It’s the first thing I think of in the morning too.” She patted Quinn’s ass when she stood up. “Have fun. Be careful.”

“Always.” Quinn stepped into sweats. “You want me to take Jack to daycare?”

“No. I’ll drop him off on my way to Linda’s.”

“Okay. Let me know how she is. Love you.”

“I love you.” Honor rolled over and closed her eyes, the taste of Quinn in her mouth and her scent surrounding her.

*

Hollis hit East River Drive on her bicycle just as the sun came up, pedaling in a fast, even rhythm alongside the few cars leading the rush-hour charge toward the city. On the river, sculls knifed through the dark water, the college crewers flexing and pulling as one as their coxswains called out the cadence. Ducks waddled on the green expanse between the twisting two-lane road and the river’s edge. Runners strode along the paths paralleling the shoreline.

Ordinarily, this was her favorite time of day—when the air was fresh and the sky clear and the day stretched out before her filled with possibility. This morning, the clarion beauty of the early summer morning only served to darken her mood. She couldn’t shake the disappointment of Annie’s rebuff, and she couldn’t sort out why she was so bothered. It wasn’t as if Annie had cut her off—she’d just said she wanted to be friends. Fair enough. That should have been the end of the matter, but she couldn’t let it go.

The first thing she did when she opened her eyes was replay the entire previous evening. What she’d said, or should have said, or more importantly, shouldn’t have said. Hell, what had she been thinking? Annie wasn’t like other women, and that was a big part of what fascinated her. Annie was self-sufficient, self-contained, and bent on self-protection—she had more walls than Hollis. Everything she said and did reinforced the no-touch zone that circled her like an impenetrable shell. She didn’t want Hollis inside, and that was the only place Hollis wanted to be. She wanted to be the one Annie let in, even though that wasn’t like her at all. Usually she wanted more distance, not less. She respected boundaries, she had a lot of her own. But when she was with Annie, she forgot about rules and boundaries and smart decisions. The world sparkled again, the air smelled fresher, the sky was bluer. Everything hummed with life in ways she’d forgotten.

Well, the world wasn’t shining now. She shook her head, berating herself for her clumsy, premature moves the night before. The signs had been clear enough—go slow, use caution, take time to build trust. She hadn’t done any of those things. A couple of shared meals, a few conversations. That wasn’t enough to draw Annie out of her comfort zone. She’d let her wants cloud her judgment.

When was last time she’d done that? When was the last time she’d cared enough to even try? Well, she’d blown it.

A shaft of sunlight bounced off the water and the air ahead of her shimmered with tiny flecks of gold. Maybe not permanently, though. Maybe if she backed off and heeded the caution signs, she could work her way around to the right time to ask again.

Maybe. And maybe she ought to think twice about what she was doing. She sighed and rounded the circle in front of the Art Museum, halfway done with her morning ride. Maybe she’d be smarter to listen to Annie’s message—she’d been doing just fine with the casual relationships she had. Annie wasn’t the kind of woman she could treat casually. And really, anything else was just asking for trouble. She came around the parkway toward West River Drive and the return loop, her mind clearing. Maybe she should be grateful Annie had shut her down. Maybe she’d dodged a bullet. Maybe what she needed was a date with no strings, a pleasant night out to remind her of the priorities in her life. And what she wanted to avoid.