Heart's Surrender (4 page)

She closed her eyes and imagined Gillian kneeling on the shower floor, licking her pussy, tongue-fucking her while Sam rode that beautiful face. A low groan escaped her. The orgasm built quickly, and it wasn’t long before a climax ripped through her.

Opening her eyes, Sam stared at her arm. Teeth marks indented her skin where she had bitten into her hastily raised forearm to stifle the noise. She touched the marks with trembling fingers. Fortunately, they were superficial. That had been one hell of an orgasm. She leaned against the tiled wall, breathing heavily through her nose, and let the hot water run down her neck. She needed a moment to come down from such a high.
Wow.

With genuine regret, she got out of the shower. She dried herself with one of the fluffiest towels she had held in her hand in a long time and Sam found herself imagining drying Gillian with one of those later. Man, had she misjudged the potential of this date. She would have to thank Linda for dragging her to the party, although the notion of showing gratitude had Sam grinding her teeth.

There were nicer things to think about. She laid the towel over the rack in the corner and walked to the door that led into the bedroom. There was no need to get dressed.
I hope she hasn’t gone to sleep.

Sam opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks.

Gillian lay naked on the bed, the fingers of her right hand placed over her pussy; the other hand busy playing with one of those tempting nipples. “I thought you would never come back. So I started on my own.” Her voice was husky, with a slight tremor to it.

Heat shot through Sam. “Don’t you dare.” She crossed the distance to the bed. “Away with those hands. Now.”

Gillian giggled. “Or?”

“Or else.” Sam jumped on the bed and replaced Gillian’s hands with her own. This was going to be a fun night.

CHAPTER 4

Waking up in her own bed was good but the sound clawing its way into her bedroom wasn’t. Gillian clenched her teeth against the deafening noise of grinding beans. She hated the digital super-automatic espresso machine that Derrick had insisted on buying. A simple coffee machine would have done the job as well. And at this very moment Gillian also hated Tilde, her Swedish au pair, who had insisted on keeping the machine.

A glance at the clock revealed that it was already three p.m. The kids would be back in around two hours. Gillian sighed and stretched lazily, grinning when her sore muscles protested against the movement.
Gosh, it’s going to take another day or two before I’m able to move again without thinking of last night.
Of Sam. Butch as butch can be. And yet…never before had anyone been so attentive to Gillian’s needs. She brought her fingers close to her nose and inhaled deeply. Even though she had showered before leaving the apartment, a whiff of her own scent still clung to her fingers. A smile spread over Gillian’s face. She clutched the sheet to her chest and closed her eyes. Her body tingled all over as she remembered those hands on her body, in her body.

Somewhere inside the house a door slammed.

Gillian cursed and rolled out of bed.
I can’t go through the day constantly thinking of sex. And Sam. Stunning Sam.
Gillian hadn’t gotten enough of those hard muscles under soft skin. The only drawback had been Sam’s obvious dislike of being touched intimately. Gillian sighed.
I need a cold shower. A very, very cold shower. Again.

Fifteen minutes later, Gillian stood at the kitchen window and watched Mrs. Storm, one of the biggest gossips in the neighborhood, inspecting their neighbor’s garden over the picket fence. Mrs. Storm was like the Spanish inquisition. An inquisition Gillian had banned from her house after Derrick’s death. Which had made Mrs. Storm very suspicious of all things going on inside the Jennings’ home.

Gillian picked up her freshly brewed cup of coffee and entered the four-season room. She opened the sliding doors to the garden and let the scent of flowers and earth wash over her. A huge lavender bush towered beside the doors. Butterflies and bumblebees swarmed around it as if the plant was some kind of insect drive-through. Smiling, she settled down in her favorite armchair and took a sip of the dark brew. The children would soon be back from their grandparents.
Enough time to think and drive yourself crazy. Hooray.
She let her head fall back and closed her eyes.
What am I going to do?
As nice as these nights in the city were, reality hit hard the next day. She was still no closer to finding out what she wanted to do with her life. Without a husband, she had a lot of options. But there were the kids to consider. And the neighbors. And the parents-in-law.
You know that you’re a lesbian. You know that some day you’d like to be in a relationship with a woman. And that the kids will be part of the package. But how? And where am I going to meet Ms. Right?

Gillian sighed. Maybe moving away would be a good first step. But the children would miss their familiar surroundings, wouldn’t they? These kinds of questions had been driving her crazy for months.
I guess I just have to do it, to take a first step.
If only she had an idea of what the correct first step was.

“Did you have a nice night?”

Gillian groaned, opened her eyes, and found Tilde standing in the doorway. “Thanks, yes. Nice night. Not much sleep. Feel like crap now.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun.”

Gillian grinned. “Yes, it was fun. Sit down.”

“I’ll get myself a coffee. Be back in a moment.”

With her long black hair and brown eyes, Tilde didn’t look like an au pair from Sweden but she really had been one of the nicest surprises in the past year. She was loyal and funny, and the children loved her. Having another grownup in the house was a wonderful thing. Even more so because Tilde was the most nonjudgmental person Gillian had ever met.

Seconds later, she was back with a cup of coffee.

“So, you’re ready for the invasion?” Gillian stuck out her tongue.

“No. Are you?”

Gillian shook her head. “No. But with a bit of luck Margret will have a migraine, and the chauffeur will bring the children.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?”

They smiled at each other. They shared a distaste for Gillian’s mother-in-law, a snobbish matriarch, whose world was simply black and white. One mistake Gillian would never repeat again was to fall in love with someone without getting to know her future parents-in-law. “I’m thinking about selling the house and moving.” Gillian held her breath. It was the first time she had voiced her thoughts. This was only Tilde, but still...

Tilde leaned back in her chair. “Where to?”

And wasn’t that the question? She couldn’t imagine living in the city, without a garden. Would moving to another suburb change anything? Wouldn’t there be the same kind of snoopy people and uptight neighbors? “I’m not sure. But I’ll start making appointments with real estate agents. I need to start somewhere.”

Tilde grinned. “All right. But Mrs. Storm will be devastated.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Gillian couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sure she will camp outside the house to make certain that nothing escapes her eagle eyes.”

The ringing of the phone cut through their laughter.

“Want me to get it?” Tilde set her coffee aside.

“No, that’s fine.” Gillian got up. “Let’s order pizza tonight and watch a movie with the kids, shall we?”

“Great idea.”

Gillian picked up the phone in the kitchen. “Hello?”

“Gillian. You have to come over.” Margret’s voice screeched through the receiver like a hot water kettle about to explode.

“Why? What happened?”

“You won’t believe what your daughter did! I expect you to pick up the children. Now!” The busy signal replaced Margret’s voice.

“Oh shit.” Gillian rolled her eyes, walking back to the winter garden. “Tilde, order a bottle of schnapps with the pizza. We will need it.”

CHAPTER 5

Sam stared at crumbled piece of paper in her hand. By now she knew Gillian’s mobile number by heart—even though she hadn’t dialed it once. But she had thought about calling Gillian around a hundred times…at least.

The memory of Gillian’s warm, soft skin beneath her fingers had not vanished one bit since Sam had left the apartment. The way Gillian’s face had flushed during orgasm made Sam’s heart beat faster every time she thought about it and the little sounds Gillian had made when Sam’s tongue had danced over her clit…they were like an earworm, playing again and again in her head.

Sam rubbed her eyes.
Shit, it’s as if she bewitched me.
Sitting down on a lone paint bucket in front of her van she fumbled with her mobile phone.
Should I call her?
They had agreed that calling for a new “date” would be all right if either of them felt up to it. That had been four days ago. Sam grimaced.
Is it too late to call again after four days? Or too early?
She would really like to see Gillian. The sex had been great. And the mystery around her had captured Sam’s interest. Was she a housewife? A player? A professional? Had she bought the expensive apartment herself? Questions over questions were running through Sam’s head.

“Sam?” Linda’s voice echoed from their small office.

Sam sighed and turned around. “Yes?”

“Why is the coffee empty?”

“Because you drank the last cup?”

“Very funny.” Linda stepped out of the building, holding a coffee can—bottom up—in her hand. “There’s no more coffee. The can is empty. And you’re responsible for shopping this month.”

“Oh shit.”
I’m really losing it.
Sam got up. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Linda narrowed her eyes. “Yesterday you forgot an appointment with a potential new customer and on Monday you left your tools behind.” She laid a hand on Sam’s arm. “What’s up with you?”

Sam put the piece of paper with Gillian’s phone number into her pocket. “Nothing.” She took a step back and picked up the paint bucket. “I need to go but I’ll buy some coffee later today. Sorry.”

“I don’t care about the coffee.” Linda grinned. “Well, that’s not true. But I do care more about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sam heaved the paint bucket into her van. With a satisfied thump the bucket settled between one broken hammer that Sam had wanted to throw away for days, a cable spool, a torque spanner, several screwdrivers and two toolboxes.
Gosh, I really need to clean up here or I’ll be able to open my own DIY store in the van.

“You never want to talk about ‘it’,” Linda growled. “You mope around for days and days until either your sister or I threaten you with bodily harm. And even that doesn’t always work.”

Sam sighed. Linda wouldn’t give up. “I just need to think things through before talking about it.”

“That’s fine. But most of the time you think so damn much that your brain is about to fry before you give.” Linda crossed the distance between them. “Too much thinking is like a short circuit fault about to happen.”

Sam couldn’t help but grin. “A short circuit fault?”

“Well, yeah.” Linda shrugged. “Too much thinking and ‘boom’.” She threw her hands in the air.

“Boom.” Sam laughed. “Back to watching too many cartoons again?”

“No. And you’re deflecting. Once again.”

“I just...I don’t know what to say.” How was she supposed to talk about something if she hadn’t figured out herself what exactly bothered her? She had a hot night out. Great sex. And yeah…maybe she wanted to do it again. With Gillian. So why was this driving her so crazy and making her think so much? And feel so much?

Linda sucked on her lower lip. “All right. Can I ask some questions?”

Sam nodded. There was no way of stopping Linda anyway. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Who was the woman that you talked to at the birthday party?”

“You’re nosy.”
And she knows me too damn well.

“And?”

“She’s…she was a…we had a fun time that night.” Sam stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“Right. And you’ve not been yourself ever since why?”

“I…” Sam groaned. “All right…I would like to see her again. Satisfied?”

“Well, you must have been very satisfied if you want to see her again.” A smirk lit up Linda’s face.

“It’s not—”
like that.
Sam just stopped herself from dragging her thoughts out in the open. “She was hot. I’m just not sure if seeing her again would be a good thing.”

“Why not?”

‘Cause I felt too much and I’m too interested and there’s someone in that building hanging around who knows my family.
“I don’t know. And I really have to hurry or I’ll be late. I’ll bring back some coffee tonight.”

“All right. I won’t pester you anymore. For now. And I’ll stop at Coffee Beans later and buy some coffee myself.”

“Thanks.” Sam was dizzy from relief that the interrogation was over. She had no doubt that Linda would have another go. She was like a Terrier on a hunt once she got scent of something interesting. Sam sat down in the driver seat and started the car. The drive to her new job wasn’t a long one; the job itself would be rather boring. Which was usually fine with her. She didn’t need another broken water pipe. Yesterday evening she had been sure that small webs had grown between her fingers. However, a boring job meant that she would have more than enough time to think about Gillian all day long.

What am I going to do?
Sam drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
Maybe I’m overcomplicating things. Maybe I should just call and see her again. Get her out of my system. But what about Thomas? What if he’s working again? What if he wants to talk about the good old times?
A bitter taste spread in Sam’s mouth. She couldn’t hide forever.
You knew that one day something like this would happen. Be happy it’s only Thomas you met.

Twenty minutes later Sam parked her car in front of her customer’s house, took out her mobile phone and dialed Gillian’s number.
It’s now or never.

The neighbors’ sprinklers all started to shut down one after the other, leaving behind wet grass and a flock of happy birds hunting for insects.

Gillian stopped at her front garden, breathing heavily. Sweat trickled down her face and coated her whole body. It was around eight o’clock and already way too warm to continue with her run. Which is why she had cut it short today.

“Hello.” A voice like fingernails on a chalkboard clawed across the quiet lawns.

Shit.
Gillian was tempted to ignore the earsplitting call and rush into the relative safety of her home. Maybe she could pretend that she just hadn’t heard Mrs. Storm. She turned and hurried toward the entrance.

“Hello, Gillian. Wait. I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

Gillian sighed, stopped and turned around.

Mrs. Storm made her way across with the determination of a Mississippi River
steamboat
.

Gillian plastered her best fake smile on her face. “Good morning, Mrs. Storm.”

“Well, it would be a good morning if it wasn’t so unbelievably hot.”

“Yes, it seems to be another one of those days.”

Mrs. Storm looked at her watch and then back at Gillian with a bright smile on her face. “I’d love a cup of coffee, dear. I have around half an hour before I have to be home again and I would simply love to chat a little. It has been way too long…”

Oh. No.
You don’t invite yourself in our home.
“I’d love to Mrs. Storm. Really. But I have to shower.” Gillian pointed at her sweaty clothes. “And afterwards I have to make some urgent phone calls that I simply cannot delay.” Gillian put on the fake politician smile that she had learned from Derrick. All she wanted was to escape her nosy neighbor and get out of the sun that was already starting to burn down on her like a mega-spotlight.

Mrs. Storm shook her head. “I really wonder what au pairs are all about. Even though you have one you never seem to have time to sit down and chat with one of your oldest neighbors.”

Nosiest neighbors is more like it.
“Well, there’s simply so much to do every day. And without a husband…”

“I’m happy to help if you’ll let me know how I can support you.” Mrs. Storm took a step closer, an eager expression on her face.

Shit.
“Well, Mrs. Storm—”

Gillian’s mobile phone blasted the opening theme of “Desperate Housewives” into the air.

Thank God.
She squinted at the display.
Whose number is that?
“Yes, hello?”

Mrs. Storm took another step closer.

Gillian turned away, the phone pressed to her ear.

“Hello, is this Gillian?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Sam.”

“Oh.” Heat shot through Gillian’s body, followed by several very vivid memories that would make Mrs. Storm keel over. “Hang on a second, please.” She turned to her neighbor and nearly bumped into the damn woman by doing so. “Another time, all right? This is one of those phone calls I was talking about earlier.”

Mrs. Storm’s face lived up to her name.

Gillian hurried toward the house.
Sam. Wow.
She had thought so often about their night together but hadn’t found the courage to call. She shut the door behind her and walked into the living room. “Hello. How are you?”

“Fine. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you.” Gillian sat down.

For a moment only Sam’s breathing was proof that the connection was still working.

“So…”

“I’d like to see you again. That’s why I called. To see if you want to see me, too.”

Gillian got up, unable to sit still when thinking about the implications of what Sam had just said. “That would be nice. I’d love to see you again.”
And feel you. Taste you.
Her head was spinning.

“Yeah?” Sam cleared her throat. “Great. Sounds great. Would you…should we meet at the apartment again?”

“Absolutely. Yes. When?” Gillian groaned inwardly.
One word sentences. Very, very sophisticated.

“What about Friday at eight p.m?”

“Yes.” Gillian hurried into the kitchen and looked at the calendar. Angela had a sleepover at a friend’s. Michael would be fine with Tilde. They adored each other and wouldn’t miss her for one second. “Friday works for me.”

“Wonderful. I look forward to it. And Gillian?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to have you all night.”

Gillian’s brain nearly fried when she thought about the promise behind those words. She cleared her throat. “Likewise.”

“See you Friday.”

“Yes. Goodbye.” Gillian stared at the phone in her hand. Sam wanted to see her…to touch her again. The whole night.