Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

“She’s very nice,” Emory said.

“Yes,” Wes said. The band was good, and the bar was packed. There hadn’t been much opportunity for conversation, for which she was grateful. Emory wasn’t as relentless as her mother or Denny when she wanted to know something, but she didn’t let up. Her curiosity had been apparent from the instant Wes had introduced Evyn, and understandably so. Evyn was great company—sociable, funny, at ease in any situation. Wes doubted she would be as comfortable meeting any of Evyn’s friends, but then she wasn’t particularly comfortable in social gatherings to begin with. She hadn’t had much practice. Evyn undoubtedly had, and thinking about her in a bar, comfortable, charming, connecting with other women, the twinge of possessiveness swelled to a surge of jealousy. She promptly extinguished it. She didn’t have any claim on Evyn, by her own choice.

“Sexy too.” Emory plucked a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the table.

“Yes,” Wes said.

“When did you lose your powers of speech?” Emory asked with exaggerated politeness.

Dana cautiously eased her chair back from the table, clearing the space between Emory and Wes.

“I could use a break here, Em,” Wes said quietly.

“I can see that—you’re out with a great-looking, sexy, charming woman and you’ve been trying to pretend all evening that she wasn’t there.”

“That’s not true.” Wes could hear the testy tone in her voice and tried to dial it back. Emory was her friend. “It’s complicated.”

Emory laughed. “Of that, I have no doubt. Neither of you strikes me as simple. Although sometimes, I think you’re kind of simple-minded.”

Dana stood up, the loud scraping of her chair audible even over the music. “I’m gonna go get refills. Another drink, Wes?”

Wes eyed her half-finished beer. She’d had her hand clasped around the bottle for most of the last set, and the beer was warm. She’d feared if she let go, her hand would end up on Evyn’s thigh, the hard, sleek thigh that had somehow come to rest against hers soon after they’d all sat down. The entire length of her leg tingled, as if Evyn had been sending a low pulse of energy into her for the past hour. “I’ll have another Pilgrim.”

“Coming up.”

“So what’s really going on?” Emory asked as soon as they were alone.

“I don’t know, Em,” Wes said, weary of pretending everything was fine and exactly the way she wanted it. “I’m still trying to sort things out.”

“But there’s something going on between you. That’s pretty obvious. She’s been watching you the entire night.”

Wes stiffened. She’d been hyperaware of Evyn since the moment they’d left the White House and driven to the club in Evyn’s car. They hadn’t talked much, but the silence hadn’t been uncomfortable. All the same, every time she looked at Evyn, she’d known the silence was masking what they both wanted to say. Even the noisy bar and the diversion offered by Emory and Dana’s company hadn’t diminished her awareness of Evyn next to her. Her brain registered the music, followed along in the conversations, and prompted her to answer when spoken to, but all she really noticed was Evyn—the heat of her body, the sound of her voice, the space she occupied at the table. Watching Evyn’s fingers curl around her glass, all Wes could think of was the sensation of those fingers gently clasping her breast, stroking her, turning her blood to fire and her mind to a sea of pleasure.

“You’re attracted to her,” Emory said, making it a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“Which one of you is throwing up walls?”

Wes laughed. “What makes you think we are?”

“Oh, come on. You’re both acting as if it would be a crime to touch each other.” She shook her head. “The two of you actually go out of your way not to touch when it would be perfectly natural to do so—it’s so obvious. So who shot who down?”

“No one,” Wes said, at a loss as to how to make sense of everything. “It’s mutual—we decided not to go that route.”

“What route?”

“Intimacy.”

“You mean sex?”

“Come on, Emory,” Wes said. “Don’t make this any harder for me. You know what I mean.”

“Honest, I don’t. Is she married?”

“What? No.”

“I know you’re not.”

Wes shook her head. “Can we not—”

“She’s straight?”

“No,” Wes said definitely. Her stomach twisted, remembering the way Evyn made love to her, so confidently, so perceptively, so powerfully. “Definitely, no.”

“And I know you’re not.” Emory raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“No,” Wes said, laughing despite her discomfort.

“So what’s the problem? You’re both available, you’re both gay, and you both obviously have the major hots for each other.”

“We work closely together—a personal relationship could seriously disrupt the team.”

“May I say, major bullshit?”

“You don’t understand—”

“More bullshit.” Emory spoke without the slightest bit of heat, just calm certainty. “I know you, and I’m betting any woman you’re attracted to would be pretty similar as far as this is concerned. Nothing compromises your work. I bet Evyn is the same way.”

“I’m what way?” Evyn pulled out her chair and sat back down next to Wes. Her arm brushed Wes’s and the tingling spread from Wes’s leg into her stomach, making it hard for her to focus on Emory’s inquisition.

“Totally serious and uncompromising about work,” Emory said.

Evyn gave Wes a what-did-I-miss look, then shifted in her chair and regarded Emory. “Yes, I’d say that’s true. Why?”

“How well do you know Wes?” Emory asked.

Wes snapped back to the conversation. She wasn’t going to discuss her personal relationship with Evyn while Evyn sat an inch away. “Never mind. Emory and I were just catching up.”

Evyn glanced from Emory to Wes. “I have obviously missed something pretty important here. Maybe you should catch me up.”

“Emory is my oldest friend—she thinks that gives her certain privileges.”

“It does,” Emory said.

Evyn laughed. “What is it you want to know?”

“Do you really think there’s anything that could make Wesley compromise her professional obligations?”

“No,” Evyn said slowly. “I don’t.”

“That’s not how you felt a few weeks ago,” Wes said.

“You’re right. But I know a lot more about you now than I did then.”

“My point exactly,” Emory said. “Experience sometimes runs counter to expectations—and proves there are exceptions to every rule.”

“And sometimes,” Evyn said softly, her gaze returning to Wes, “rules are just convenient shields.”

Wes had the urge to get up and run, and she’d never run from anything in her life. What could be so frightening about a woman wanting to be close to her? Not just any woman. Evyn. Evyn, who had provided quiet strength, and tender comfort, and fierce passion. Evyn—who refused to be pushed away.

“Sometimes reshaping boundaries is slow work.”

Evyn grinned. “I’m patient.”

Wes threw back her head, laughing quietly. “How is it I’ve never noticed?”

“Never?” Evyn murmured.

Wes’s breath caught. Evyn had been endlessly patient the night they’d made love—letting Wes lead, despite her inexperience, letting her satisfy her need to touch and taste and savor. “I remember.”

“Good.”

“Well,” Emory said, as Dana returned, “before Wesley tells me it’s none of my business, I’ll butt out.” She cleared a space on the table for the drinks and leaned to kiss Dana as she sat down. “But for the record, I think you two are smoking hot together.”