The wild one, p.10
The Wild One, page 10
But if she leaned just slightly forward, her traitorous senses encouraged her, her lips would find Quinn's. She could . . . Rachel moved abruptly, pushing herself to her feet.
Quinn looked up at her, her gray eyes dark, glowing pools in the semidarkness.
Rachel's gaze focused on Quinn's mouth, the curving fullness of her lips, and as she watched she was sure the tip of Quinn's tongue came out to dampen them. Rachel's knees went weak with wanting.
"I, we . . . I mean, I have to . . ." She drew a steadying breath. "The kettle's boiling."
She started to walk back toward the kitchen, but she stopped, looked back at Quinn. "I was making tea."
The kettle's whistle became shriller, and after one last look at Quinn, Rachel hurried into the kitchen. She reached out, fumbled for the switch, turned off the kettle. Silence engulfed her, and she stood unmoving, not turning around, knowing instinctively that Quinn had followed her into the kitchen. She felt the other woman's presence as though Quinn had reached out and touched her, run her fingers down Rachel's spine. Rachel shivered.
"Would you like a cup?" she asked, moving toward the counter to disguise her involuntary movement.
"Yes. Please."
Quinn's voice sounded a little unsteady, but Rachel told herself that Quinn had just woken from a nightmare. She would be upset.
Rachel moved around, setting out another mug, the sugar bowl. Eventually she allowed herself the luxury of a glance in Quinn's direction.
Quinn was just inside the kitchen and stood with one hip propped against a countertop, her arms wrapped around herself as though she was cold. And her eyes continued to follow Rachel's movements.
"Sugar. No milk," Rachel said inanely as she went through the tea making ritual, her hands far from steady.
"Did I. . . Did I say anything?" Quinn asked, and Rachel turned to look at her. "When I was dreaming," she elaborated.
Rachel shook her head. "No. I don't think so. At least, nothing coherent. It sounded as though you were in pain. At first I thought you were ill."
Quinn nodded.
"Does it happen often?"
Quinn sighed. "Often enough."
"It must be dreadful to have to relive it all the time," Rachel said softly.
Quinn walked across the kitchen, resting her weight on her hands on the sink as she gazed out the back window into the garden. With the range hood light on and the yard in darkness, Rachel knew Quinn wouldn't be able to see a thing out there.
"It's as though I'm watching it all happen to someone else. I see the car. The road. The headlights cutting through the blackness. I feel the speed. Then, at the corner, the car rolls. Over and over. In slow motion. The noise is almost unbearable. The doors fly open and it rolls again. There's this grinding, crunching, sickening thud. And then the silence.
"I see myself crawling through the darkness. I can make out the vague shape of the car. It's upside down, and the front seems to be buried in the creek bank. I can't see the others.
"My mouth sort of fills with sand or water or something, and I can't breathe, and I start to fight my way out of whatever's holding me back." Quinn drew a shaky breath. "I think that's when I wake up."
Rachel took a few steps toward Quinn and then stopped when she started speaking again.
"They told me I was thrown out of the car and into the water. Luckily it wasn't too deep and there were no rocks or branches where I landed. Laurel wasn't so lucky. She was thrown clear too, but they think she broke her leg on a submerged tree or something in the water. Mark died in the car, and Graham was thrown out and the car rolled on him. That's how he lost his leg."
Quinn's back tensed, and Rachel reached out, put a comforting hand on Quinn's shoulder, her fingers registering the warmth of her skin beneath her shirt.
"I must have passed out after I crawled from the creek. I don't remember any of that or how I got to the hospital. They told me all this later." Her shoulders tensed even more.
"I shouldn't have been driving. I was..." Quinn turned around to look at Rachel, her gray eyes reflecting her pain. Her lips twisted derisively. "What was it we used to call it? Legless? I was totally legless." She frowned. "I can't imagine driving when I... I never had before."
Quinn rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I'd been guilty of a lot of things but I'd never driven before when I'd been drinking. I'd never been so out of control that I . . ." She shook her head, and her tensed muscles slumped. Her eyes met Rachel's. "I guess it only took that one time," she said flatly.
"The four of you had been drinking, Quinn. Not just you," Rachel reminded her, and Quinn's gaze dropped, her dark lashes shielding her expression.
"I've never found much consolation in that."
Rachel swallowed, not knowing quite what to say. "Maybe not, but it is true. Some of the responsibility had to fall on the other three surely."
Quinn looked back at Rachel. "Well. It's all in the past. And not even my nightmares will change it."
Rachel yearned to take Quinn in her arms. Her hand that still rested on Quinn's shoulder slipped downward until her fingers gently rested around Quinn's forearm. Her eyes met Quinn's, and suddenly Rachel knew the tension, that dangerous, exhilarating tension, was back.
Rachel's own muscles reacted, and she knew by the sudden stillness of Quinn's body that the other woman felt it too. Rachel tensed as a mixture of anticipation and apprehension enveloped her. It was a heavy weight. In the air around them. On her skin. In the buzzing inside her head.
She watched as Quinn's gaze shifted to focus on the place where Rachel's hand rested on the smooth skin of her arm. Guiltily Rachel let her hand fall to her side, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the material in her nightshirt.
"I . . . The tea... I should make the tea." But Rachel's feet refused to move. She couldn't seem to get her keyed-up muscles to take direction. She stood there, one step away from Quinn, wanting to reach out to her, touch her, pull her into her arms, hold her close. She wanted to hold Quinn more than she'd wanted anything in her life.
They both stood there, unmoving, and Rachel felt an incendiary heat wash over her. Any moment she would ignite.
She watched the shadow of a pulse beating erratically at the base of Quinn's throat, and she knew her own thundered in unison. Her gaze rose to Quinn's mouth, saw the slight tremor of her lips, knew Quinn's breathing was as shallow as her own. And eventually she looked into Quinn's eyes.
Rachel felt like she was drowning in them, in their clear gray depths. She was being drawn into a midnight sea, into the swirling vortex. She could almost feel the oily smoothness of the ocean, washing her skin, drawing her downward, surrounding her.
"I desperately want to kiss you."
Chapter Fourteen
Rachel saw Quinn's lips move, heard exactly what Quinn had said in her so familiar voice, yet her brain refused to compute the meaning of those impassioned words.
I desperately want to kiss you.
The silence that fell became impossibly heavier. Rachel's whole body seemed to sing with a tension that was almost painful. She wanted to move. She wanted to speak. Yet she seemed unable to reply or respond.
And I desperately want to kiss you too.
But the words wouldn't come.
"I'm sorry, Rachel," Quinn said softly, her eyes not meeting Rachel's. Then she moved, walked slowly around Rachel and back out toward the living room.
For long moments Rachel just stood there, Quinn's husky apology ringing in her ears. Then she was dragging ragged breaths into her lungs, and she hurried after Quinn.
She was standing by the couch, running her hand through her short hair, her back to Rachel.
"Quinn ..." Rachel swallowed as her voice broke.
Quinn turned back to her, held up her hand. "It's all right, Rachel. I shouldn't have said anything. I knew it would freak you out."
"What makes you think that?" Rachel asked, knowing it was a plausible question. She hadn't given Quinn any reason to think otherwise. Why wouldn't Quinn think it would upset her when she'd built this so very proper facade around herself? When she'd stood there in the kitchen like a traumatized Victorian maiden needing a whiff of burned feather?
Quinn shook her head, ran her hand over her eyes. "Just forget I said it. Please."
"It probably should freak me out," Rachel continued as evenly as she could, and she saw a small frown cross Quinn's brow. "But it doesn't."
Quinn's head jerked up, her eyes locking with Rachel's. "Rachel, do you know what you're...?"
"I know I don't want you to walk away." Rachel swallowed again, took a small step forward, reached out, and touched a shaking hand to Quinn's cheek.
"God, Rachel," Quinn said brokenly. She moved her head until her lips were caressing the palm of Rachel's hand.
They stood like that for long moments, and then Quinn's arms reached out, slid around Rachel, and drew her close.
Rachel melted into her, felt the glorious softness of her lips on Quinn's at last, after years of secret, feverish imagining. She tasted the sweetness of Quinn's tongue, and she was aflame with the heady excitement of her touch.
Part of her registered that she could feel every curve, every nuance of Quinn's body. Her hipbones pressed against Rachel's, her flat stomach, the swell of her small breasts, and she hoped desperately that her own body felt as good to Quinn.
Quinn rested her hips against the back of the couch and pulled Rachel closer still. Her lips nibbled Rachel's sensitive earlobe, followed the line of her jaw, almost reached her mouth. Paused.
Quinn's lips slid slowly upward, over Rachel's flushed cheek, to tenderly kiss each eyelid, the tip of her nose and then, eons later, to find Rachel's mouth again. Her lips caressed Rachel's, her tongue teased and then slipped inside.
And Rachel moaned. She'd never been kissed quite like this before. Quinn's kiss seemed to spread down into her core, her very soul. She felt as though Quinn had reached inside her, encircled her heart, held it cocooned, cradled safely in her strong hands. Rachel's whole body tuned to the other woman.
So this was what it felt like to kiss Quinn Farrelly, a small part of her reflected as her nerve endings danced like marionettes gone mad. All those years ago, Rachel had wondered. And when she'd dropped her guard during the ensuing years she'd done more fantasizing about how soft Quinn's lips would be, how it would feel to hold her close.
Now Rachel knew.
The feel of Quinn's lips on her own was more, so very much more exciting, more electrifying, than she had ever imagined it could be.
How she wished she hadn't wasted all those years. She wanted Quinn to go on kissing her forever.
Quinn's hands played over Rachel's back, down the length of her spine, and it seemed to Rachel that Quinn's deft fingers sought out every indentation, traced every vertebra, made them her own. Then her hands slid downward to cup Rachel's buttocks, pressing Rachel impossibly closer to her warm, long body.
One of Quinn's legs insinuated itself between Rachel's legs, her bare skin smooth and vibrant. Quinn's thigh pressed between Rachel's thighs, and Rachel groaned softly as arrows of unadulterated desire centered between her legs. Spirals of wanting clutched at her, made her catch her breath. Her muscles went weak, and she sagged against Quinn.
Quinn's lips surrendered Rachel's to slide down the curve of her throat, pushing aside the strap of her tank top, continuing over Rachel's smooth shoulder. And Rachel's body sang where Quinn touched her. Quinn's mouth returned to tease Rachel's lips, then moved downward again, following the low neckline of her nightshirt, over the swell of Rachel's left breast, her right breast, back to settle tantalizingly at the top of the thrilling valley between them.
Rachel tensed again. Every nerve ending in her body was alive, waiting, totally tuned to Quinn's so arousing touch.
Then Quinn drew back, leaving Rachel's skin cold where her warm lips had rested. She looked into Rachel's eyes.
Please. Don't stop. Rachel entire body seemed to scream the entreaty into the silence.
"Rachel?" Quinn said softly, her voice low and thick, seducing Rachel even more. "I want to . . ." She drew a shallow breath. "I want to make love to you."
Rachel's senses soared. She knew she was so aroused she'd fall through space any second. She managed a small smile. "You mean there's more?" she asked, her voice raw and broken.
"If you want more," Quinn said. Her gaze never wavered from Rachel's, her gray eyes almost black in the dim light, the curve of her wonderful lips promising so much.
Rachel let her hands move lightly over the swell of Quinn's hips, pause at her waist, her fingers splayed out over Quinn's flat midriff. She could feel Quinn breathing, fancied the thudding of her heart.
She ran her hands lightly upward, her palms gently following the contours of Quinn's breasts beneath her T-shirt, and as Rachel grazed Quinn's aroused nipples she felt a tremor pass over Quinn's body.
Her hands were shaking slightly as she cupped Quinn's face, kissed her slowly, pulled away. "Your place or mine?" she asked huskily, and Quinn swallowed.
"Yours, I think. I know mine's closer, but yours is bigger. I think we might need the space."
Rachel nibbled on Quinn's lips. "We will?" she breathed against Quinn's mouth.
"Space isn't mandatory, but it's more comfortable."
Rachel could feel Quinn's words against her mouth. Her breasts brushed Quinn's, and her body ignited again. "We'd better go now then, otherwise I won't make it up the stairs."
Quinn laughed softly, a low, sensuous sound that seemed to echo in her chest, her expelled breath playing over Rachel's cheek like cool silk.
"The way I feel right now I could carry you," Quinn said as she clasped Rachel's hand and moved them across the room to the staircase.
"I'll make the climb somehow," Rachel assured her, knowing it wasn't the climb up the stairs that was making her breathless. "I wouldn't want you to waste any of that energy."
They were at the top of the steps now, and Quinn drew Rachel into her arms again, kissed her deeply. Then Rachel was pulling Quinn along the passage and into her bedroom.
The bedside lamp still burned, illuminating the bed with a warm glow, inviting them into its circle of light. They stopped by the bed, moved together, kissed long and languidly, and when they drew apart they were both breathless.
"Well," Quinn said softly. "Last chance."
"To what?" Rachel asked.
Quinn's eyebrow quirked. "To step back. To change your mind."
"My mind was made up a long time ago," Rachel said levelly, her muscles tensing at the naked, sensuous promise in Quinn's eyes.
Quinn reached out, slowly slid Rachel's nightshirt up and over her head, dropping it on the floor, and Rachel stood in her underpants. Suddenly she was shy, wanting to cover herself, wishing there was less of her. She flushed as Quinn's gaze took in her full breasts.
"I guess I'm no Elle Macpherson." She gave a nervous laugh.
Quinn's hands reached out, cupped Rachel's breasts, lifting them slightly, and then her thumbs brushed Rachel's dark nipples.
Rachel's knees gave way beneath her, and she sat down heavily on the side of the bed. Quinn quickly discarded her T-shirt, shorts, and undies. She gently pushed Rachel back onto the bed, peeled off her panties, and stretched her long warm body out beside Rachel's.
"You're just perfect," she said thickly, her eyes drinking in Rachel's naked body.
"Yours is the perfect one. It always was." Her gaze moved over Quinn's small, firm breasts, her rosy nipples, flat midriff and stomach, the shadow of her navel, the tantalizing triangle of dark curls between her long, muscular legs. Quinn was quite perfect.
Rachel found it even more difficult to breathe. Her fingers settled on the bare skin of Quinn's stomach, and she had to moisten her dry lips with her tongue. "I want to touch you, but I'm not sure ... I don't know what to . . . I mean, what you like."
"I like what you like," Quinn replied with a faint smile.
A lump lodged in Rachel's throat. How did she tell Quinn she'd never done this, been with a woman before? "Quinn, I. . ."
Quinn reached out, the back of her hand gently brushing Rachel's cheek, her fingertips settling on Rachel's lips. "I know, Rachel. Just do what you feel, what you'd like to do."
Rachel took Quinn's fingers into her mouth, sucked them, tasted them. Then she raised herself on her elbow and leaned across Quinn to kiss her lips. Rachel's breasts brushed Quinn's, her nipples tingling, tightening in their arousal, and she gasped as a shaft of pure desire surged through her.
Of their own accord Rachel's fingers moved, settled agitatedly on Quinn's shoulder, slid downward, seeking, arousing, teasing her hardened nipple. Quinn murmured thickly as Rachel's hands caressed her, and Rachel's own body burned, began to throb anew with her own wanting.
Supporting herself on her hands, Rachel slid on top of Quinn, one leg on each side of her hips, and she lowered herself until their bodies meshed. Quinn took one of Rachel's nipples into her mouth, her lips encircling as she gently sucked, teasing with her tongue, her teeth. At the same time her hand enveloped Rachel's other breast, her fingers tantalizing.
A swell of release caught Rachel unawares. Waves of wondrous sensation washed over her, and she relaxed onto Quinn's body. She drew a ragged breath. "I'm sorry. I . . ."
Quinn kissed her tenderly. "Don't apologize. You're wonderful, do you know that?" She gave a soft laugh. "And Elle Macpherson, eat your heart out."
Rachel laughed too, and then Quinn gently pushed against her shoulders, moved her until she was lying on her back again. Quinn leaned across and kissed her deeply, and Rachel couldn't seem to get enough of her soft lips. A flutter of desire rose from deep inside Rachel, began to grow again.
Quinn let her lips move down, teasing Rachel's nipples again, her hand sliding over the small mound of Rachel's stomach, pausing to encircle her belly button. Her magic fingers resumed their journey, fluttered over the inside of Rachel's thighs, touched the tangle of wet pubic curls. And then they were slipping into the damp, inviting folds, finding Rachel's responsive center.
