Intentions - SF9 (28 page)

The blue eyes cracked open and immediately sought out the warmth of Mia's gaze. "Only part of me wants to run, Mia," she whispered. "Another part wants to touch you so badly that I feel like I'll go mad if I don't."

"It's safe, Jordan," the smaller woman whispered. She grasped a trembling hand and held it to her chest, chafing the soft skin with her hands. "I won't hurt you."

"I don't know how to touch you," Jordan said, her voice coiled with tension. "Would you show me?"

"Of course I will," Mia sighed, her heart breaking for the obvious distress that her friend was in. "How would you like me to show you?"

Jordan lay down on the bed and closed her eyes as she tugged open the tie to her robe. Spreading the fabric open, she revealed her body to Mia's stunned gaze.
Oh, my God! Thank you for having her close her eyes, 'cause it would not do to let her see me drool!

Jordan's shaking hand lifted, and Mia instinctively laced their fingers together. The blonde placed the smaller hand upon her breast and whispered, "Show me."

The blue fabric still covered the long body from waist to thigh, so Mia climbed astride her once more, the robe providing a thin, protective barrier for Jordan's modesty. Now it was Mia's hands that shook, nearly rivaling the trembling in the long body that she lovingly caressed.
She trusts me so much
, she silently considered.
What a precious gift that is!

Mia massaged the stunningly smooth skin with reverence, keeping her touch light and delicate. She repeatedly replenished the lotion on her hands, wanting her touch to glide across Jordan's body, not even allowing the friction of her hands to mar the perfect flesh.

She continued the loving touch until Jordan had visibly relaxed and her breathing had calmed. The blue eyes had remained shuttered, but they slowly blinked open and gazed at Mia with a gentle question reflected in their clear blue depths. She obviously decided not to pose her query verbally, instead lifting her hand to trail the backs of her fingers up Mia's exposed side.

The brunette twitched and involuntarily pulled away, stifling a giggle as she did so. "Yes, I'm ticklish," she admitted. "Ridiculously so. Like a three-year-old." She had a resigned smirk on her face, but Jordan's expression remained serious. Outlining Mia's lips with the tip of her index finger, the blonde promised, "I'll never take advantage of you because of your ticklishness."

Turning her head, Mia captured Jordan's fingers and kissed them gently. "I know that," she admitted.

Jordan rose up on her elbows, holding Mia's gaze for a long time. Sitting up fully, she wrapped her arms around her body and started to kiss her, their breasts pressing lightly against each other. Unable to contain the moan that sprang up from her core, Mia held on tight and opened herself fully to Jordan's increasingly confident caresses.

Their bodies slowly grew hot to the touch, their skin tingling everywhere their flesh came into contact. Hands threaded through silky and curly tresses, mouths opened-sucking gently on tongues, moans mingling. Jordan's breath had grown so ragged that she was now softly panting, her eyes hooded with the desire that pulsed through her veins.

Finally, pulling away roughly, she grasped Mia firmly by the shoulders and said, "I can't fight this anymore." Her determined face and fiery eyes locked upon the smaller woman's. "I don't care who knows…I don't care that I know. I can't deny myself any longer. No matter what the consequences-I've got to have you."

Mia grasped the long, lean woman by the shoulders and pulled her down onto her body, their breasts compressing against each other as Jordan settled onto her. "I've never wanted anyone like I want you, Jordan," she murmured, her voice soft and gentle. Her hands roamed all over the smooth, strong, yet delicate body. "It makes me feel very special to share this with you."

"You are special, Mia. You're very special to me," her soft voice murmured, her eyes full of confidence in her decision. Her smile broadened even as she began to shake again. With a look that merged equal parts stark fear and burning desire, she whispered, "Let's make love."

Mia let the wish hang in the air for a few minutes, softly stroking Jordan's cheek, letting her eyes convey her wholehearted acceptance of the offer. She wanted to give the shaking woman time to change her mind, while hoping fervently that she wouldn't. It soon became clear that Jordan wanted to continue, but equally clear that she didn't have any idea of how to begin.

Denying her almost painful desire, Mia concentrated on making Jordan feel loved and cared for. She knew the remarkably lovely woman didn't often feel lovely, and she silently pledged that she would do everything in her power to make her feel so.

Her hands glided over her body in a whisper-soft touch, slowly pushing the silky fabric from her flesh. Eyes locked together, Mia smiled at the look of intense pleasure on Jordan's face as her hands caressed her. "I love touching you this way," she whispered. "You're such a beautiful woman."

Jordan blushed becomingly, averting her eyes as she struggled to accept the compliment. "You make me feel beautiful," she admitted, her voice soft and winsome.

"You're just as beautiful here," Mia insisted, placing a kiss on her temple, "as you are here." She placed delicate kisses down the long body, starting at the hollow between her collarbones, and continuing to her navel.

Unexpectedly, Jordan threw her arms around Mia's body and hugged her tight. She felt as if she would burst from the wellspring of feeling that pummeled her body, but she didn't know how to express herself. Her instincts told her to grab on and hold the smaller woman as closely as she could, but that's the only clear message she was able to decipher.

Mia was patient with her, letting her go at her own pace, even though she was about to combust. Her ribs were beginning to ache, and she freed an arm to stroke down the long, muscled back, soothing Jordan with her gentle caress. "I know," she murmured, "It's a lot to process, isn't it?"

"Yeah," the blonde's shaking voice agreed. "It's an awful lot."

"Just relax," Mia urged. "Lie back and let me touch you. Let me know what feels good," she soothed, "and what feels even better." Her voice had dropped into a low growl, and Jordan's toes curled at the frank sexuality of her tone.

She dropped to the bed inelegantly, her quivering muscles unable to support her any longer. Consciously opening her body to Mia's touch, Jordan held her breath as determined hands smoothly removed her clothing, leaving her naked and more vulnerable than she had ever been. "Relax," Mia soothed as the long body continued to twitch with tension. "Just relax." The small, cool hands stroked across her skin, the gentle touch too appealing to resist. Jordan's body slowly calmed as the touch grew more focused, and her nerve endings began to tingle from the sensation.

"Ohh…yes," the blonde whispered. "That's fantastic."

Mia moved slightly, bringing her head up to rest on the same pillow with Jordan's. Their lips met and merged, the passionate kisses causing the blood to pound in Jordan's head as Mia's hands claimed her body. It was almost too much, but she forced herself to breathe deeply and focus on the touch rather than the emotion that was flooding her brain.

Body and brain warred for supremacy, the echoes of previous emotionless intimacies fighting to be resurrected. But she focused on Mia, chanting her name like a mantra to her mistrusting inner voices. Lifting her eyes repeatedly, she let the warm brown depths soothe her tumultuous thoughts, gaining strength from the sure, gentle regard she found there.

Eventually her mind calmed, and she opened her body and her heart to the gentle woman who held her in her arms, surprised by the strength and sureness of her embrace. All rational thought slowly ceased. Her body now in control, the deeply intimate caresses overpowered any shred of doubt about her sexuality that she harbored. This was right-so very right, and suddenly that was all that mattered.

Her breathing grew more erratic and her heart beat wildly, feeling like it would explode from her chest. The sensations grew to be so overpowering that all she could do was hold on and let them take her. Long, elegantly-shaped hands clutched at Mia, grasping at her hair, her skin-anything that she could reach to stay grounded. A fantastic burst of feeling washed over her as her body convulsed in sensation, the feeling at once brand new and deeply familiar.

Suddenly she was being cradled and soothed, warm gentle hands caressing her tenderly as her heart slowly calmed. She blinked up at Mia, desperately wanting to express the feelings that filled her heart, but she was completely unable to utter a single word. Tears formed in her blue eyes, spilling onto her cheeks, where Mia immediately kissed them away, lifting her head to lock her gaze onto Jordan's face, searching her expression for a gauge to her feelings. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Perfect," Jordan whispered, a tired smile curling the corner of her mouth.
"As long as you hold me, I'm just perfect."

Ryan woke to a day that seemed wrapped in a gloomy gray fog. It was a little early in the year for rain, but as she looked out the window she saw the steady downpour pelting relentlessly against the house.
I thought I heard rain
, she thought,
but it's so damned windy I couldn't be sure.

She was one of the many San Franciscans who actually enjoyed the worst that the climate could throw at her, and without regard to her comfort, she decided to go for a nice long run. It had been over six months since any measurable rain had fallen, and she found that she missed it greatly. As a child spending her summers in Ireland, she had not been exposed to the months of dry weather that most of California was subject to, and she found that she really did not care for it. So when the rain did come, she tried to enjoy it as much as possible.

Dressing as carefully as she could, she trotted down the stairs and slipped outside.
Good Lord!
She thought, her eyes widening in surprise.
As my Granny would say, 'Tis desperate!'
And it was indeed desperate out. It could not have been over 45 degrees, and the wind was blowing the rain almost horizontally, making the rain seem even colder.
Oh, this is gonna be fun,
she decided as she did a little stretching before taking off. Fun, however, it was most definitely not. The rain stung her face and hands like millions of tiny needles, and before she had gone 50 feet she could hardly see because of the tears welling up in her eyes.
Oh Mama!
She cried to herself.
This is torture!
But even though every sensible bone in her body urged her to return to her nice warm house, she kept on with a fiercely determined gait. It wasn't that she enjoyed torturing herself, it was that she couldn't bear to have the weather dictate her choice of activities. People all over the world carried on their normal days even when it was bitterly cold, snowing, and sleeting-she wasn't about to let a little rain stop her.

As she ran along, she realized that she was feeling quite unsettled at the thought of her father marrying her aunt without her or any of her brothers in attendance. She knew that was small-minded, and that it wasn't for a lack of desire on her father and Maeve's part. Nonetheless, she hated to know that they were now married, and that only the European side of the family had been able to share in their joy.

She was so lost in her thoughts that it wasn't until after the first mile she realized that the stinging pain was lessening significantly, but then she realized that was only because her face and hands were now mostly numb. She compulsively shook her head to clear the icy water from her stinging eyes, but the motion did little good. She motored along more by instinct and feel than vision, but as she continued she felt herself slide deeper into an infrequently achieved trance. It wasn't actually a trance, but she didn't have a better name for it. Strangely, she found it easiest to enter when the distractions around her grew too strong. As her concentration deepened, she felt easy and light and completely disconnected from the mundane concerns of the world. She just let herself become her stride and her breathing and the mass of dark hair that slapped against her back with each step. She just was…As simple as it sounded, that was the reality-she just was.

The rain no longer stung…the cold no longer bit her skin…the wind did not whip her hair into her eyes…every bit of the experience
became
her, so there were no more distractions. As she glided along, her mood lightened until she became absolutely euphoric. The miles flew by as she traversed streets she had never consciously seen before. Everything looked new and fresh and unique. The earth actually seemed to shift under her feet, but she felt her body adjust seamlessly to the change. The muscles in her thighs seemed to grow as new demands were made on them, but her perfectly tuned body accepted the burden without complaint. Her lungs worked harder and harder to supply blood to her extremities, but again all systems cooperated to keep the machine functioning flawlessly. She turned a corner and gazed down at the cloud choked city and…
DOWN?!

She jerked to an abrupt halt as the trance was shattered.
My God! Where am I?
Her mind tried to accept the fact that she was high above the city, probably high up in the Berkeley hills. But she had no idea exactly where she was, and even less of an idea how to get home. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was nearly eight o'clock.
Shit! I've been out for two hours! Jamie's going to be frantic!

Since it had taken two hours to get where she was, it was obviously going to take longer than that to get home, now that her broken trance allowed her body to recognize that it was thoroughly exhausted. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her thin nylon windbreaker, she extracted nothing but lint.
Shit! How can I go out running without I.D. or change? That's ridiculously irresponsible of me!

She tried to stop her self-recriminations to logic out a solution to her problem.
First thing is to find someone who can tell me how to get out of this neighborhood,
she mused. She started to run again, wincing at the stiffness that was beginning to settle in her over-stressed thighs.
Oh boy!
she mused.
I've really done it this time. Jamie's gonna have my hide!

She struggled along for about a quarter mile before she spotted a man doing some light stretching on his covered front porch.
Ahh, a fellow masochist
, she thought happily. She dashed up to him and asked, "Pardon me, but I've gotten a bit lost. Can you steer me out of the neighborhood?"

"Uh, sure," he said hesitantly. "Where'd you come from?"

"I live a few blocks from Claremont and Ashby," she informed him.

He blinked at her for a second, not quite able to believe her, but seeing no reason for her to lie. "You ran up here?"

"Yeah," she replied a little sheepishly as the water cascaded down her face. "I was in a zone."

"That was some zone," he laughed as he shook his head. "My wife gives me a hard time about running two miles in this weather. She should count her blessings!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna get my butt kicked if I ever get home," she said with a chuckle.

"Come on in and use the phone," he offered. "Somebody's got to be worried about you," he said with an appreciative glance down her long, lean body.

She was about to say no, having caught the slight leer, but his curious wife came to the door and said, "Tim? Who are you talking to?" She leaned her head out and snagged a glance at Ryan, then another back at her husband.

"Oh, Honey," he said. "This woman's a little lost. Can she come in and call her…husband?" this last remark was directed at Ryan, but she just smiled at him.

"Uhh, sure," the man's wife said hesitantly as she gazed at the water dripping off every inch of the leggy brunette.

"Actually," Ryan offered, "would you mind making a call for me? I don't want to drip all over your house."

"Sure, I'd be happy to," she smiled. She dashed back in the house and grabbed a pad and pencil. "What's the number?"

Ryan gave her the particulars and waited as the woman darted back in. She cooled her already icy heels for a few minutes chatting with the man, who introduced himself as Tim Meyers. By the time his wife returned he knew a substantial amount about Ryan, but she had learned nothing about him.
Must be a lawyer
, she mused. Rosemary, as Tim had identified her in her absence, returned with a smirk on her face and a much warmer attitude. "Jamie says to tell you not to move a muscle," she laughed. "You're in deep trouble, Ryan."

"I thought maybe she'd go easier on me if I had you call," she laughed as Tim looked at her curiously, trying to figure out how he had missed the fact that she was a lesbian.

"Well, she told me that if you tried to leave, I should hurl something at the back of your head to stop you," she explained with a smirk. "Does that sound like she's going to go easy on you?"

"At least I didn't ask you to call my father," Ryan remarked. "He reacts much worse, since he long ago had his fill of bailing me out of trouble!"

"I won't, Jamie," the thoroughly contrite woman said from her spot on the kitchen chair as her lover towered over her.

"And you promise to never leave the house without money or a calling card on you?"

"I won't, Jamie," she promised.

"But you know that I still have to punish you, right?"

"Um…I guess I do…what are you going to do to me?" she asked warily.

"I'm going to take you shopping," she said defiantly as she slid onto Ryan's nice, dry, sweat pants-covered lap.

An hour later they emerged from the Patagonia store with a foul-weather running outfit. At Jamie's insistence, Ryan had purchased a lightweight shell that was completely waterproof and windproof and had the added benefit of being very quiet, since she maintained that she could not tolerate the "swoosh swoosh" sound that most nylon garments made. It was a bright gold color that they labeled "butternut," but Ryan failed to notice the similarity between the color and the squash. She also carried a pair of windshield tights that were a cross between snug-fitting nylon tights and rain pants. They only came in black, but Jamie preferred that anyway since the dark color made her lover's legs look even more long and lean. When Ryan's attention was diverted, Jamie slipped a pair of windshield gloves in with the purchases to keep her partner's hands warm on those chilly mornings they were sure to have more of. As they neared the checkout counter, Jamie spied the last necessity-a bright gold waterproof nylon baseball cap. She tried it on her partner, pronounced it "cute" and added it to the pile, shaking it at Ryan as she ordered, "Wear this one with the bill in front for a change, Buffy. I want to keep the water from your pretty blue eyes."

"Did we really need this stuff?" Ryan complained. "I've been running in the rain for a very long time, and I've never suffered because of it."

"How did you feel when you first hit the street this morning?" she asked patiently.

"Mmm, miserable?"

"Um-hmm," Jamie replied. "And what part of you thinks that is necessary?"

"Um…the Spartan part?" she offered.

"That's right, Precious," she said fondly. "But running in this muck is plenty Spartan. You don't have to compound that by being drenched to the skin, goofball."

"Hmm, not many people could use 'Precious' and 'goofball' in the same breath," Ryan mused. "You're very talented."

"Thank you," she said graciously. "I get lots of practice with you since I so often feel like kissing you and kicking you in the butt simultaneously!"

They stopped by the house to drop off their purchases before they left for their usual Sunday at the O'Flahertys. "Hey, Honey?" Jamie asked as she bent down to write a note to Mia. "Are these Jordan's keys?"

"Yep," Ryan said, taking a look at the set. She looked at Jamie as a smile broke out across her face. "Think our little friend took the plunge last night?"

"Mia said she was going to try to push her a little. Maybe she finally fell."

Ryan shot a worried glance upstairs and said, "I hope it went well for them. I don't want Jordan to get hurt."

"Mia really likes her. This isn't just a conquest for her. I'm certain of that."

"I hope so," Ryan mused. "I really hope so."

"The plane won't land any sooner, Ryan, no matter how many times you pace in front of that window."

Ryan looked at her partner with a sheepish grin, slightly embarrassed to be caught. "Okay, so I'm a little anxious," she admitted as she turned her attention back to the dim, gray skies over San Francisco. "Oh, that might be them," she said excitedly as she pointed to a plane making a wide turn toward the gate.

Just as she spoke the flight was announced, and Jamie watched with amusement as her lover's anxiety turned to elation. She ran over to the gate and began to fidget as she craned her neck around, trying to observe every bit of activity occurring beyond the heavy double doors that opened and closed repeatedly with airport personnel. Finally the doors were fully opened and the first passengers began to file through. Jamie was a few feet behind her lover, but it was patently obvious when Ryan spied her father coming down the passageway. Her face broke into a smile so luminous that tears immediately came to Jamie's eyes. Luckily, Ryan's arms were quite long, and they allowed her to snake one arm around both Martin and Maeve. She wasn't very verbal tonight, but neither of the newlyweds could have any doubt that they had been missed. She kissed both of them again and again, and Jamie finally decided that she needed to butt in or she would never get to greet them.

"Welcome home," she said as she lifted Ryan's arm from Maeve's back and slid into the group hug.

"It's good to be home," Martin responded heartily as he stood at his full height and stretched a bit. "It's no wonder Ireland seems so different," he added with a chuckle. "It's damned far! I thought we'd never get off that plane."

"Well, you're home now," Ryan assured him "I'll go pull the car up to the arrival area. I'll be waiting when you've collected your bags."

Fifteen minutes later they were headed home. "I'll bet you're starved," Ryan observed. "Conor's in charge of Sunday dinner. Would you rather stop at McDonald's?"

"Well, our bodies believe it's two a.m.," Martin reminded them. "The boy could make a bowl of porridge and a piece of toast and I'd be happy."

"That sounds good to me too," Maeve agreed.