A Matter of Trust (20 page)

Michael glanced at her in mild surprise. “You’re really very serious about him, aren’t you?”

“I really am. It wasn’t something I ever expected to happen again, but now that it has, it feels exactly right. We were going to spend the evening together, and I think we both sort of knew it would mean spending the night together. I have to say that if we don’t do something pretty soon, I’m likely to implode.”

“Well then, I’m doubly sorry,” Michael said with a soft laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated that sensation before.”

Sarah looked up sharply. “Before?”

Michael colored, suddenly realizing what she had said. Her first instinct was to dismiss it as a meaningless comment, but in the next instant, she discerned that for perhaps the first time in her life she actually had someone she trusted enough to confide in.

“I’ve never felt that way about anyone. I mean...the way you feel about Jason. The attraction and the...wanting,” she said finally, hoping her keen embarrassment wasn’t obvious.

“What about your husband?” Sarah asked gently. “In the beginning?”

“No. Nicholas was my friend first, and then he was my business partner, and somewhere along the way he became my husband. I didn’t have any friends, really, because I was different than most of the people my age. It was a kind of salvation when he seemed to understand what was important to me and shared the things that I loved. But it wasn’t a union of the senses—it was an intellectual connection. I was never really aware of—” She stopped, struggling for the words. “Sex.”

“Ah...sex.” Sarah laughed. “If there is anything more irrational and less explainable than that, I can’t imagine what it is. There are a lot of reasons to stay in love, but
why
we fall in love remains a mystery to me. The best we can hope for, I guess, is that we fall in love with someone we can continue to love.” For a moment, she remembered her last relationship and added sadly, “And sometimes there’s nothing we can do except fall and wait for the crash.”

“Are you frightened?” Michael asked quietly, suddenly needing very much to know. “About what’s happening between you and Jason?”

“A little bit.” Sarah heard the apprehension beneath the question and impulsively took Michael’s hand. “I try not to think too much about what might happen. It’s hard not to, but since we can never really predict, I’m trying to enjoy how alive I feel when I look at him, and how incredibly exciting it is to imagine being with him.”

They came to the stone stairs of Sarah’s townhouse, and as if prearranged, they sat side by side on a step and leaned back, faces turned to the sky. It was one of those gifted moments when the world seemed to recede, street sounds and sights grew muted, and all that was real was the seductive heat of the sunshine. It was a moment made for confession.

“I’m having a bit of a problem with Sloan,” Michael stated, staring up at the soft white clouds in the blue, blue sky.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Mmm, I noticed,” Sarah said, tilting her head back to catch the slanting rays of sunlight against her neck. “I’d be willing to bet she’s having a bit of a problem with you, too.”

“No, she isn’t.” Michael’s voice was rough with disappointment. “She’s not interested.”

Sarah turned her head, wondering why Michael seemed so certain. “What happened?”

Michael blushed but continued determinedly. “Last weekend, in my hotel room, we...well, I guess...” She shrugged helplessly, pushing her left hand through her already tousled blond hair. “It sounds like it should be so simple when I say it. She kissed me, but then she made it clear that it had been a mistake.”

“Ah.” Sarah nodded, suddenly understanding. “Not surprising.”

Michael turned to her, her eyes questioning. “I’m sorry...what?”

“You probably scare the hell out of her.”

“Me?” Michael was incredulous. “Why?”

“Because I’ve got the feeling that she
is
interested and doesn’t want to be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Michael, there are things Sloan needs to tell you. Things you need to know to understand her better. She’s my oldest friend, and I love her dearly. She’s the strongest and most honest person I’ve ever met. But she’s also the most stubborn, and she’s been running from something for a long time. Until she stops, she’s not going to be able to let anyone close.”

“It’s funny,” Michael said slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about...but in a way, I do. Sometimes when Sloan and I are together, it feels so easy. So...right. It’s as if we’re connected, feeling the same way. Then, in the next instant, she pulls away and disappears. I don’t know why she does that, but I want to understand.”

“And you’re...attracted to her? Physically, I mean?” Sarah questioned cautiously, concern for Sloan suddenly surfacing. She liked Michael, but she
loved
Sloan. If this was just a passing thing, Sloan could get hurt. “Because, you know, if she’s already kissed you then we’re not talking about just being friends here.”

“I know that. I’m not having
just friends
feelings, either.”

“Does it bother you, that she’s a woman?”

“I guess it’s supposed to, but it doesn’t. I never expected anyone to make me feel the way she does. Never even thought about it, really. Yet when I look at her...” She couldn’t prevent an image of Sloan from entering her mind. She saw her, in her faded blue jeans and scuffed brown boots and tight white T-shirt, and something turned over deep inside. “I think she’s gorgeous. In fact,” she added with a small, tight laugh, very aware of exactly what that heavy pulsating sensation signaled, “if I don’t stop thinking about wanting her to touch me,
I’m
going to implode.”

Sarah burst out laughing, her concerns fading in the face of Michael’s honesty. After a few seconds, Michael joined her. They leaned close together, shoulders touching, each of them thinking how good it was to share the moment.

When Michael returned to the Innova office shortly after 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, she discovered Sloan stretched out on her back on the sofa, eyes closed, a leg dangling partway over the edge, one hand resting on her thigh and the other open, palm up, by her side. Looking at her, sleeping unawares, Michael knew she should simply turn away and let her rest, but she found she could not avert her gaze. It seemed as if every facet of Sloan’s face and body was a miraculous discovery, precious details to savor again and again.

She had never noticed before how sensuous the slight rise of a woman’s breast beneath a cotton T-shirt could appear, or how alluring faded denim might look stretched over a long, lean thigh, or how the flat planes of the abdomen and gentle slope of hip begged for a hand to brush along them. She stepped closer, one hand poised to stroke the sleeping woman, her breath suspended in anticipation. That was when she realized that she needed to escape, because any second now she was going to do something very embarrassing.

But before she could move, Sloan’s eyes opened, caught hers, and held. Shimmering violet embers merged into swirling blue flames, bringing Sloan to a sitting position as Michael leaned down, a force beyond volition or even thought drawing them together. A whisper before their lips could meet, somewhere in the deep reaches of Michael’s consciousness, she heard Sloan’s quick intake of breath, almost a moan. At the same time, she remembered Sloan’s words from only days before. “
We’ll both regret this tomorrow.”

“Sloan,” Michael whispered, her voice so thick with need she did not recognize herself. “Please tell me that it’s all right to kiss you. I don’t think I can stop.”

“All right?” Sloan blinked, appeared to come fully awake, and collapsed back into the cushions. “Fuck, Michael, I don’t know...anything.”

They stared at one another, breathing hard, skin flushed, bodies shuddering with strain. The air between them hummed with tension.

Michael closed her eyes and stood upright, hands clenched at her side. She couldn’t look at Sloan, not without touching her. And she was stunned and a little frightened by what she had almost done. Never had she wanted anyone like this—so badly, in fact, that she scarcely knew what she was doing. She barely recognized herself—yet she had never felt more alive.

“Sorry,” Michael whispered as she finally opened her eyes. Trying to avoid looking directly at Sloan, afraid words would fail her, she sat down on the corner of the adjoining chair, letting her hands fall into her lap. “Well, it seems like we’ve been
here
before,” she said, her voice quivering. “This time, it was clearly
I
who was responsible. I apologize.”

Maybe it was the forlorn regret in Michael’s voice, or perhaps it was only because Sloan had wanted her since the first time she’d seen her—whatever the reason, Sloan’s resistance finally crumbled. Kneeling swiftly on the floor in front of Michael, she leaned forward and kissed her before either of them could think or say no.

Firmly, surely, thoroughly—she kissed her the way she had wanted to kiss her for far too many days, the way she had dreamed of kissing her for countless nights.

Sloan’s breath caught as she thrilled to the soft brush of Michael’s lips against hers, shivering when a tentative tongue searched gently for her own. She kept her hands securely pressed to the chair on either side of Michael, knowing that if she touched her, she would be lost. Already her heart was pounding and her head was light. There was a roaring in her ears that threatened to shatter reason. With every fiber of her being, she wanted Michael’s skin under her fingers, wanted Michael’s body yielding to her hands, wanted Michael’s cries rising to her caress.

Her fingers cramped from holding them tightly against the leather, because she would not do what she was desperate to do—not now, not here, and not like this. A kiss was just a kiss, and she just needed this one simple kiss, just this
one
kiss to assuage the fire of longing that had been consuming her whole. She ignored the demanding ache that tightened like a fist in her gut, so heavy that just breathing was a struggle. When she could no longer bear the tender sweetness of Michael’s mouth or contain the searing pressure that poured down her thighs, spiraled into her spine, and hammered into her stomach, she drew away.

“Well,” Michael breathed, her eyes hazy, “that was nice.”

“Yeah.” Sloan grinned shakily, having trouble focusing herself.

Neither of them moved, lest the spell be broken. Sloan was just inches from Michael, outstretched arms braced on either side of her. When Michael slowly brought her fingers to Sloan’s wrist, she turned her hand until they touched. The light pressure of Michael’s fingertips circling in her palm was enough to make Sloan’s stomach clench. When Michael caressed her arm, then along her shoulder to her neck, finally bringing her palm against Sloan’s chest, she gritted her teeth to hold back a moan. She was so aroused she feared she might orgasm without even being touched.

“Careful,” she whispered—to herself, to Michael.

Michael was oblivious to Sloan’s plight. She was mesmerized by the feel of Sloan’s sculpted muscles, rigid now under her hand, and the soft promise of breast, beckoning just beyond.

When Michael’s thumb brushed unintentionally against Sloan’s painfully taut nipple, there was no way Sloan could hold back the groan. A pulse beat between her legs—once, twice. She was losing it. “Michael,” she gasped in desperation. “Stop.”

Michael froze.
Oh no, not again.

Had she been more certain of the signs and less hurt by the recent rejection, Michael would have done what her instincts were crying out for her to do. She would have taken Sloan’s face in both hands and kissed her with all the abandon of fifteen lonely years; she would have driven a possessive hand down that long flat abdomen with all the ferocity of a hunter claiming its prey; she would have answered the simmering want between Sloan’s thighs until she satisfied
both
their hungers. Even as she forced herself to be still, she could see the liquid need in Sloan’s eyes. She could almost taste her desire.

“My God, what is it?” Michael cried. “Sloan. Tell me.”

“Please,” Sloan whispered urgently, “I can’t take it. You’re going to make me...just...give me a second.” When she could control her unsteady legs, she forced herself to stand, took a step away, and jammed her hands into her pockets to hide their trembling. “Sorry. I...sorry.”

“Are you always this hard to seduce?” Michael asked softly. Her own hands were shaking.

“My sweet Michael...you could seduce me with a smile. In fact, you
did
, that very first day in the office. I’ve done nothing except think about you ever since. I’ve wanted to touch you so many times.”

“Then what?” Michael persisted, confused and hurt.

Michael’s pain was palpable, and Sloan hated knowing that she was to blame. Frustrated, she spoke without thinking. “Christ, I practically came just now from you kissing me.”

Although secretly pleased, Michael responded just as heatedly. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yes. No. Oh, hell, I don’t know.” Sloan grimaced, sweeping her arm in a circle to indicate the rest of the room. “I’m supposed to be
working
here, not bedding you.”

Michael ignored the edge of anger in Sloan’s voice. Whatever the cause, she knew that she wasn’t the target. “But that’s not it, is it?”