Radclyffe - Firestorm

Jac’s eyes flickered open and she frowned, her expression confused and her eyes clouded with sleep and a hint of pain. “Where are we?”

“About a hundred miles from the base.”

“Fell asleep. Sorry,” Jac said, jerking at the seat belt and pushing herself upright.

“No, don’t wake up. I’m going to grab a soda and a couple of candy bars. I’ll get you one if you want.”

“Hershey’s. Dark chocolate.”

Mallory smiled. “You got it. I’m going to leave the motor running so you don’t get cold. Do you need anything else?”

Jac shifted fitfully, settled against her uninjured shoulder facing Mallory with her cheek against the seat, and closed her eyes. “No. I’m fine. Thanks. Sorry. Lousy company.”

“I told you not to apologize.” Mallory gave in and feathered her fingers through Jac’s hair. The dark wavy strands were faintly damp, and she worried that Jac was sweating and in pain. “You’re very good company. How’s your shoulder?”

“Achy. Nothing real serious.”

“And you wouldn’t admit it if it were.” Mallory let her fingers linger on Jac’s throat for longer than she should have, then eased back into her seat. “I’ll only be a minute with that candy bar.”

“Hey, Mal?” Jac muttered, her eyes still closed.

“What, baby?” Mallory said softly around the lump in her throat. She’d never seen Jac look quite so vulnerable, not even when she was dangling against the cliffside by a rope, minutes from death. The urge to protect her, to ease her discomfort, to obliterate anything or anyone who’d ever hurt her, was so strong Mallory ached inside.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

Mallory laughed, her heart threatening to leap from her chest. “Be careful, you didn’t get the chocolate yet.”

“I trust you to bring it.” Jac’s lids rose a fraction and she stretched out one hand, catching Mallory’s fingers. “I trust you.”

When Jac squeezed her fingers, a wave of heat rolled up Mallory’s arm, lodged behind her breastbone, and, with the next breath, radiated outward like a starburst. Her head spun. “Why? Why would you?”

Jac’s eyes opened fully, the bright lights outside reflecting in her dark irises like stars scattered across the night sky. “Because I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else, and you’re still here. Whenever I’ve needed you, you’ve been right there.”

“Oh God, Jac,” Mallory murmured, rubbing her cheek against the backs of Jac’s fingers. She hadn’t known how cold she was until the warmth of Jac’s flesh flooded into her. “I don’t think I deserve that kind of trust.”

“Don’t you get it yet, Mal?” Jac traced her fingertips over the corner of Mallory’s mouth. “That’s one of the few things you can’t control. It’s not up to you. Trust lives in our hearts. Like love.”

Mallory froze. Terror slammed through her, followed instantly by racking, agonizing pain. Not the dull throb of guilt or self-recrimination, but the horrible void left behind by those she’d led into the mountains and stumbled out without. A black hole beckoned, threatening to drag her in and crush her. All this time she’d kept the worst pain at bay by blaming herself over and over so she wouldn’t feel anything else. If she let go of her guilt, she’d have to face the bright, lacerating wound of pure and simple loss. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I can’t, Jac. Please. Don’t ask me.”

“I want you, you know that, don’t you?”

Closing her eyes, Mallory clutched Jac’s hand between both of hers and fought the insane urge to give in. She longed to lay her head on Jac’s chest, to lay down the suffocating burden for just one night. Could she have one night? Was that even fair? She wasn’t a coward, and she wouldn’t lie. She dropped their joined hands to her lap and shifted on the seat, facing Jac, knowing her face was unshielded in the relentless glare of the artificial sun. “I know. And I want you too.”

Something miraculous passed through Jac’s eyes—not the glint of triumph, not the blaze of victory, but the tender softening of desire. Mallory took a breath, needing to be clear. Needing to be honest.

Jac spoke first. “Right this second, I don’t want to hear the but I know you think I need to hear. So can we just not go there right now?”

“How come you figured me out so easily?” Mallory whispered.

“Ice isn’t all that hard to see through if you just look.” Jac smiled and gestured to the distance between them. “I’m a little slow maneuvering tonight. Do you think you could find your way clear to kiss me before you seduce me with chocolate?”

“I never said—”

“I know.” Jac’s wistful longing pierced Mallory’s heart. “Just let me dream for a minute.”

“Oh, the hell with it.” Mallory pushed over into the space between their seats, not caring that the gearshift dug into her ass. She didn’t care about the storm, she didn’t care about the tiny voice in the back of her brain screaming at her to get a grip. All she saw was the firestorm swirling in Jac’s eyes. And fire was something she understood. She cupped the back of Jac’s neck, spreading her fingers over the column of muscle that curved in a sinuous arc of strength and beauty to the junction of Jac’s shoulder. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous.”

Jac’s lips parted ever so slightly, as if she might speak or laugh, but Mallory didn’t give her time to do either. She brought her mouth down over Jac’s, gently but firmly. Jac gasped, and Mallory skated the tip of her tongue over the silky-soft surface of Jac’s lower lip. She tasted cinnamon and heat. Mallory groaned.

Jac’s arm came around Mallory’s shoulder, and her fingers gripped Mallory’s upper arm, holding her close, as if fearing she might suddenly bolt. Her mouth opened more and her tongue teased out, toying with Mallory’s. Jac’s teeth grazed her lower lip and Mallory tightened between her legs. She wanted to climb into Jac’s lap, straddle her narrow hips, rub herself against Jac’s hard belly. She wanted Jac’s hands inside her jacket, under her shirt, clasping her breasts, teasing her nipples. Oh God, she wanted to come right here and now. Jac’s fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head as she pushed her tongue deeper into Mallory’s mouth. Mallory whimpered.

“God, Mal,” Jac groaned against her mouth. “I want you so much.”

“Your shoulder. The storm…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Bad timing,” Mallory panted. “Really, really, really bad timing.”

Jac laughed shakily. “I don’t think I can stop. You’re the boss. Do something.”

“Just remember you said that, next time…” Mallory marshaled what little strength and sanity she had left and pushed away. Her lips were burning. Her body was aflame. She wanted nothing more than to let Jac’s fire consume her. “I have to get out of the car. I can’t think.”

“Don’t go far,” Jac whispered. “Please, Mal. Don’t go far.”

Mallory shoved open the door, bolted outside, and slammed the door before snow could swirl in. She pulled up the hood on the Gardiner High School sweatshirt and zipped her flight jacket up to her throat. Her hands shook so badly she could barely get the gas cap off. Hunching against the blowing snow, she pumped gas as quickly as she could, capped the tank, and hurried toward the station. She refused to think. She refused to acknowledge the trembling in her blood or the pressure threatening to burst her heart into fragments. She touched her bare fingertips to her lips. Three inches of snow coated the parking lot. Ice crystals hung in the air she exhaled. Frozen tears coated her lashes. And her lips burned. She burned. What had she done?