Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“Oh, I think I understand what happened pretty well,” Flynn said. “Like I said, it was amazing. You’re amazing. I pretty much lose it the minute you touch me.”

Mica went very still, her face hard to read, but her eyes lit up from within. “You mean that.”

“I do. If I had any choice at all, I’d want you back in bed with me right now. I’d want to keep going, do a million things we haven’t had a chance to do yet. I told you I’d be hungry. I didn’t realize I’d be starving.”

“I don’t know if I can do that for you,” Mica said quietly. “Take care of that hunger.”

“We won’t know, will we, until we try? What about you? Are you hungry at all?” Flynn felt as if she were poised on the edge of a precipice. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been the only one to need, the only one to want. She’d misjudged completely with Evelyn. She’d been so blinded by her own passion she hadn’t realized Evelyn was afraid. Afraid of censure, afraid of losing her social status, afraid of losing her position in the church. Evelyn had been willing to sleep with her but not commit to her. She’d chosen the safer route, one that Flynn had never seen coming. Evelyn had chosen her twin, who looked almost exactly like her, except that he was male and therefore acceptable. Her heart hammered wildly, as if she were waiting for judgment. “Mica? If it’s only one time, tell me now.”

Mica closed the distance she’d created between them, pressed her hands flat against Flynn’s chest, and kissed her. Her kiss was open-mouthed, hard and demanding. Her breasts crushed against Flynn’s, her pelvis molding to her. Everything about her was hot and possessive. The ache in Flynn’s heart vanished. Even the pain in her injured side receded to a distant throb. She wrapped her arms around Mica’s waist and lifted until Mica was standing on tiptoe, straddling her thigh, riding her. The movement hurt, but Flynn didn’t care. Mica seemed to be the only medicine she needed.

When Mica pulled away, Flynn had lost her train of thought, and that never happened to her. She fought to steady her breathing, her fingertips resting on the outer contours of Mica’s hips. “Was that a yes? Please tell me that was a yes.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry,” Mica said. “I want you to do everything you did to me last night and more. You’re so hot when you come—I want to make you do it over and over. I can’t stop thinking about it, and I don’t know if I’m glad about that or not.”

“I’m here,” Flynn murmured. “This can be the beginning, not the end. If you let me, I’ll stay.”

Mica pushed away, the hot light of passion in her eyes turning to a blaze of anger. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.”

Flynn caught Mica’s hand before she could retreat again. “Then tell me. Help me. Please.”

“What do you want to know? What do you think talking will prove?”

“Tell me about the tattoo on your back,” Flynn said.

Mica jerked. “What?”

“The tattoo. It’s beautiful, but I wonder what it means.”

“Forget it.” Mica turned and strode out of the room.

For half a second, Flynn contemplated letting her go. She was pushing, maybe pushing too hard. Mica might have a very good reason for keeping her silence. If the attack in the alley wasn’t random last night, then Mica was in danger. But if Mica was in danger, Flynn needed to know why. She couldn’t help her unless she did.

Flynn went after her. The only way to show Mica she wasn’t going to treat her the way everyone else had was not to live up to her expectations. Mica expected her to let her go. And she wasn’t going to. Flynn made it to the living room just as Mica reached the front door. “I could use coffee. How about you? I think I might have some bagels or something too.”

Mica stopped, paused for seconds that felt like eternity, and finally spun around. “I could do with some coffee. But you are not making it. You sit your ass on one of those stools at the counter over there and tell me where all the stuff is. Then I’ll make it.”

“Deal.” Flynn eased onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar and directed Mica to find coffee, mugs, and the bagels. Despite everything, she was hungry for food, and she suspected Mica was too. It’d been a hell of a night.

“Here you go,” Mica said, passing Flynn a mug of coffee.

“Thanks. So are you going to tell me about the tattoo? I’ve never seen one so big or so elaborate.”

“It’s the symbol of my crew.”

“Your crew?”

“You know, the people I hang with.”

“Are we talking about a gang?”

“Yeah,” Mica said, thrusting her chin out, preparing for the pain when Flynn walked. She hadn’t planned on telling Flynn anything, but she hadn’t planned on waking up in bed with her either. Flynn just didn’t quit, and every time Mica pulled away, Flynn said something, did something, to reel her back in again. Well, now she knew. Now it was out in the open, and this was when Flynn would quit. At least it would be over quickly, and she wouldn’t have to tell Flynn anything that could get her hurt. Better to cut off any connection before they got any tighter. She was already having trouble making it out the door. She never should have let Flynn get over on her the way she had, but Flynn was so freaking beautiful. So amazing. No one had ever made her feel the way Flynn did. No one had ever touched her as if she were special. Flynn turned fucking into something she’d never thought possible. She made it miraculous. If she hung around Flynn much longer, she was going to forget who she was and what mattered.

“Does this gang have something to do with that guy attacking us last night?” Flynn asked.

Mica hadn’t expected the question. She’d thought Flynn would pull back, make small talk, and get her out of the apartment as quickly as possible. Now Flynn really seemed to want to know what was going on. Fuck, this was getting way too complicated. “I don’t know. Look, Flynn—”

“But it might?”

Mica reached for a bagel, broke it in half, and bit off a piece. If she told Flynn anything else, Flynn could get in trouble. She wasn’t going to do that. “Just let it go.”

“I want to know, Mica. It matters to me. Whatever is happening, or you think might happen, you don’t have to handle it all on your own.”

Mica dropped the bagel onto the paper plate she’d found in one of the cupboards. “You don’t think so? And just who do you think is going to come to my rescue? I know you’re a priest, and for all I know, you can really make miracles. But it’ll take more than a miracle, and I don’t think you come equipped with what it takes to handle this.”

“What does it take?”

“An assault rifle.”

Flynn flinched. “Well, you’re right. I don’t have one of those. If I did, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. But I’ve got friends who probably have something similar. You met one of them last night. Allie. If you’re in trouble, why don’t we—”

“Your friend Allie—if that’s what she is, is a cop. She can’t help me.”

“You’re not asking about her”—Flynn took the other half of the bagel Mica had left on the plate, cut it open, and spread some butter on it—“but Allie has a partner she’s crazy about. And that’s just fine with me—like I said, she’s a friend.”

“She’s still a cop.”

“She is. And she’s honest. She cares about what happens to people.”

Mica shook her head. “I’m not one of her people. I’m the outsider. This doesn’t have anything to do with this town or any of you.”

“It does now,” Flynn said. “It matters now because you’re here. And you’re one of us now.”