A Matter of Trust (27 page)

It was slower this time, but no less powerful. When kisses weren’t enough, they traded languid strokes and caresses designed to torment, staring into each other’s eyes—watching passion rule. When desire deepened to overflowing, Michael arched her hips to take all of Sloan inside, murmuring, “Soon.”

“Uh-huh,” Sloan agreed hoarsely, the pressure building, pounding, in the pit of her stomach. She clenched her jaws and said through gritted teeth, “I’m ready to go.”

Michael began to tremble lightly, her eyelids fluttering closed for long seconds as her teeth caught at her lower lip. Then her eyes opened wide as her hips jerked hard into Sloan’s hand. “Ohyes,” she cried just before her head snapped back and her voice tripped over the sudden gripping spasm.

The sound of Michael’s pleasure was all it took to drive Sloan beyond her limits, and she surrendered with a sharp cry as tongues of fire swept through her muscles and along her nerves, burning a white-hot path into her brain. She was molten, dissolving, destroyed.

Eventually, Michael found her voice and whispered, “I...I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Neither have I.” Sloan brushed at the tears on her own cheeks.

With a sigh, Michael tucked her head under Sloan’s chin, fitting herself into every curve of Sloan’s body. “That’s all right, then, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes,” Sloan murmured on the edge of sleep. “Just right.”

*

When next they awoke, still wrapped in one another’s arms, it was fully light. Sloan smiled at Michael, a slow easy smile of undisguised satiation. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Michael responded, amazed to find herself where she had scarcely dared dream she would ever be. Hearing the warmth in Sloan’s greeting and feeling the heat of their bodies pressed close together, she realized it was better than any dream. “Is there any particular morning-after ritual I should know about?”

“Well, let’s see.” Sloan’s contagious grin widened. “There’s the part where we shower together—taking a little extra time to get reacquainted, of course. And then there’s the part where we fix breakfast, and, between clearing up and reading the paper, we come back here for a bit more intimate activity, and then maybe, just maybe, sometime later we get dressed.”

“Sounds lovely.” Michael grinned. “However, I think we need to do the breakfast part before the shower and those other wonderful activities, because I’m starving.”

“I think we can arrange that.” Sloan kissed her lightly, enjoying the prospect of sharing the morning routine with her.

Just as they were about to get up, the phone rang. Sloan stared at the annoying intrusion and debated answering it. She couldn’t think of anyone important enough for whom she would interrupt this moment, but she didn’t want to chance it ringing again at an even more indelicate time either.
Better now than later.
She reached for it.

“Sloan,” she said distractedly, captivated by the way the sheet outlined the curve of Michael’s breast.

“Ah, Sloan,” Sarah’s familiar voice responded. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Actually, yes.” Sloan pulled Michael close and nuzzled her ear.

A soft laugh came to her through the line. “I thought I might be. I saw you come into the bar last night, and the next thing I knew both Michael and you were missing. I hope that means something.”

“Oh yes, it definitely means something,” Sloan murmured, her eyes on Michael’s lips. They were full, slightly swollen from their kisses the previous night, and the sight reminded her of how those lips felt on her skin. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She glanced away because she didn’t trust herself to form words while viewing any part of Michael.

“Something good?”

“Definitely.”

“My, my,” Sarah continued with her teasing. “People will talk.”

“Jasmine looked quite stunning last night,” Sloan managed, ignoring the taunt and giving Sarah some of her own medicine. She was willing to bet that she and Michael hadn’t been the only ones to raise eyebrows the night before.

Sarah was briefly silent, then, her voice husky, she responded, “Yes, she was...amazing. Beautiful, every step of the way.”

“Hmm...is there a follow-up to that statement?”

“None that I can share.”

“No fair to tease.”

“Sorry,” Sarah said softly, replaying those first moments alone with Jasmine.

They were in her bedroom, a little after midnight. Hesitant, shy, still clothed as they kissed—both of them shaking. She wasn’t sure which of them was more nervous. She felt Jasmine’s body, female, but somehow...not, pressed to hers, and the allure of boundaries blurring excited her.

“I love the way you feel,” she’d told her.

Wordlessly, Jasmine removed the short black wig, and Sarah ran her hands through the slightly shorter golden hair beneath, amazed at the subtle shift from wholly feminine to androgynous just with that simple act.

“I love the way you look.” When she reached under Jasmine’s tight black top to release her bra, she thought for an instant that Jasmine would stop her, a swift tightening of muscle and sharp intake of breath warning of her fear. “It’s all right,” she whispered, running her tongue lightly up Jasmine’s neck as she lifted the top and undergarment off together. “I want this. I want you. All of you.”

In the faint glow of the bedside lamp, the chest she exposed was smooth and hairless, starkly muscled, and shimmering with a light sheen of sweat—the female become male. As she ran her fingers over the clearly defined contours, Jason quivered.

She was so intent on watching Jasmine become Jason, she scarcely noticed his gentle hands removing her blouse until their skin met. She gasped at that first touch of her nipples against his. Glancing to the side, she saw them in the full-length mirror on the wall, both nude from the waist up—naked breasts pressed to bare chest, one in jeans, the other in skirt and stockings—images not only reversed but completely exchanged. She watched their reflection as she lifted the leather skirt, slid one hand beneath and found the sheer thong. She clasped the fullness there, her knees weakening as Jason groaned and thrust himself against her palm.

When their bodies merged, Sarah gazed up into Jasmine’s tender eyes and felt Jason, strong and deep, filling her. She’d welcomed them both with her passion.

“Sarah? You there?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” she repeated with a self-conscious laugh as she shook off the last of the memories. “Trust me, though. Jasmine was lovely, and Jason was rather outstanding, too.”

“I’m glad, Sarah. Really.” The caring and wonder in Sarah’s voice was impossible to miss. “I couldn’t be happier. Jason is special, and so are you.”

“Thanks, Sloan. You’re a friend.”

“Listen, friend,” Sloan said, smiling at Michael, who waited patiently. “I’ve got business to attend to.”

“That’s okay, so do I. Very pleasant business,” Sarah said with another laugh. “I just called to satisfy my curiosity. Tell her I said hello.”

“I’ll do that.” Sloan put down the phone and turned so she and Michael lay face to face. “Sarah says hi.”

Michael didn’t seem to be paying attention so Sloan kissed her, a kiss that lengthened until she felt herself edging past the point of stopping. She pulled away, whispering, “I’m having a bit of a problem.”

“Hmm?” Michael said absently. She was circling her hand over Sloan’s chest, brushing across her nipples with her palm. It was fascinating, the way they hardened at the first faint touch. She grasped one, squeezing steadily, and grinned when Sloan made a noise that sounded like pain, but wasn’t.

“Jesus.” Sloan shifted on the bed, arching under Michael’s fingers. “You’re making me awfully hot.” She was a little breathless, and her hips had begun rocking of their own accord.
So crazy, so fast.

“Is that bad?” Michael asked innocently, running her lips over Sloan’s ear as she moved her hand lower.

“Uh. No. Only if you stop,” Sloan gasped, praying that she wouldn’t.

Michael loved doing this to her. “Can you wait?” She kissed her softly. “Until after breakfast?”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it,” Sloan exclaimed, her eyes narrowed with a combination of lust and surprise. “You’re a
tease.”

“I’ve just discovered how much fun it is,” Michael agreed, taking pity on her and moving her hand up to her shoulder. “But I’ve heard that it’s better if you have to wait.”

“No, it’s not,” Sloan declared in mock aggravation, swinging her legs out from under the covers and sitting up. “It’s better if you just do it a lot.”

“I’ll remember that.” Michael got up, brushing her fingers lightly along Sloan’s arm. It was so hard to stop touching her.

“Good,” Sloan muttered, still throbbing. “Because otherwise you’ll kill me.” She glanced at her and added, “You need to put some clothes on, because I don’t trust myself around open flames if you’re naked.”

Michael merely grinned and padded toward the bathroom, a satisfied look on her face. Sloan found sweatpants and a T-shirt for her and pulled on sweats of her own. They took turns in the bathroom, then met in the kitchen to peruse the contents of the refrigerator together.

“Omelets?” Sloan inquired, reminded as she surveyed the paucity of food that she hadn’t had a woman stay overnight in her apartment for a very long time. Her nights of carefully controlled intimacy had never included anything so intensely personal. She couldn’t imagine now how those sterile encounters had sustained her for so long. Michael had reminded her of what it meant to hunger—and to be filled.

“Mmm, omelets sound perfect.” Michael wrapped her arms around Sloan’s waist from behind and stood on tiptoe to kiss the smooth skin on the back of her neck, then peered around her to look at the selection. “Is that orange juice I see?”

“Yep.” Sloan shivered at the light caress and tried to ignore the quick twist of want in her stomach. This woman was going to drive her nuts. She gathered things from the refrigerator and stacked them on a nearby counter. “And I believe there’s some blue cheese and mushrooms, too.”

Somehow they managed to construct breakfast and still remain within touching distance of one another the entire time. As if by unspoken agreement, they sat side by side at the breakfast bar with the Sunday paper, which Sloan had retrieved from the front steps, spread between them. Sloan held her coffee cup in one hand while resting the other lightly on Michael’s thigh. Michael, in turn, toyed with Sloan’s fingers absently as she turned the pages of the paper for them.

“Have you got the tech section?” Sloan asked, relinquishing her empty cup.

“Yes, here.” It occurred to Michael that she had never been so comfortable with anyone in her life. How something so simple could feel so exciting—and so very right—was quite beyond her experience. Even as she sat in contented silence, she was very conscious of the faint echoes of desire still whispering in her depths. She couldn’t forget the way Sloan’s eyes had darkened and grown hazy when she’d stroked her. Finally, she admitted to herself that she was not concentrating on anything she was reading. All she was aware of was Sloan. The heat from Sloan’s hand on her thigh and her faint sweet scent aroused some primal response quite beyond her control. She wanted her.

“Sloan?” she inquired softly.

“Yes?” Sloan replied, most of her attention on the slight press of Michael’s leg against hers that was adding to the already distracting heaviness between her thighs, a persistent stimulation that had never completely quieted since they left the bedroom. She needed to be touched.

“Is it at all normal for me to want to make love to you twenty-four hours a day?”

Sloan swung toward her on the stool and raised one hand to lightly stroke her cheek. “Oh, I hope so,” she whispered, her throat tight with renewed urgency, “because I feel the same way.”

Michael placed her hands on Sloan’s waist as she leaned forward, laughing. She kissed her, nibbling gently on her lower lip for a second, then slid down off the high breakfast seat. She moved closer and straddled Sloan’s thigh, slipping her hands under Sloan’s T-shirt to caress her back and then lightly stroke her stomach, running just a fingertip under the waistband of her sweats.

Sloan sighed with the pleasure of it. “Absolutely, completely normal,” she gasped. “Oh man...”

“Well then.” Michael tugged her by the hand toward the bedroom. “I’m all for doing what comes naturally.”

Late Monday morning, Sloan walked into her reception area and was greeted by Jason, a knowing smirk on his face. She stopped just inside the door and looked at him with raised brows and a wry grin.

“So?” she asked defensively. “You have something to say?”

“How was your weekend?” he asked sweetly.

She eyed him steadily. “Probably a lot like yours. Spectacular.”

He blushed and had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed. “My weekend was most satisfactory. Thank you.”

She turned and headed toward her office, commenting as she went, “Well then, I’m sure you’re more than fit for duty. Perhaps I can have that six-month fiscal report sometime before the next century, hmm?”

She closed her door before she could hear his scathing response—and before he could hear her laugh.
Man, it is going to be awfully hard to work today.