Mine (13 page)

Next date?

She didn’t let herself dwell too long on that phrase as the blur of lights in the distance flew by out the car window. She forced herself to focus on the present as they sped down the expressway, heading back into the city and toward Courtney’s house.

“Did you have an okay time?” Rachel asked, her voice quiet and soothing in the dark interior of the BMW.

“I did.” Courtney smiled widely, hoping Rachel could see. “I had a terrific time. Thank you so much for bringing me. I may have to start volunteering now myself.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t drag you there to trick you into joining the staff.”

“No?” Courtney’s teasing lilt assuaged any worry Rachel might have had.

“No.”

“So…now it’s my turn to drag you somewhere, isn’t it?”

Rachel’s eyes didn’t leave the road, but the corner of her mouth quirked up just a little. “Yeah, I believe it is.”

“Hmm…” Courtney tapped her forefinger playfully against her lips. “What to do? What to do?”

“Should I be worried?” Rachel said with a grin.

“Oh, yes.”

“Uh-oh.”

Courtney laughed and reached across to pat Rachel’s thigh. She tried hard to ignore the warm firmness of the muscle that flexed beneath the denim. “I’ll go easy on you at first, keep it simple. How about you come over and I’ll cook you dinner?”

“You’ll cook me dinner?”

“I’m a fantastic cook.”

“Well, I’m not, so this may work out well for me.”

“There you go. What night is good for you?”

“Hmm. Let me think.” Rachel caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she did so.

The soft orange light from the dashboard shone on Rachel’s face just enough for Courtney to see her features, notice the sexiness of the gesture, and to feel an interesting pang low in her belly. It was a feeling she hadn’t had in a very long time and it surprised her in its insistence. She cleared her throat and looked away.

“I know next week is out. I’m booked every night. But the following week should work. I’ll have to double-check and make sure, but I think I’m free Wednesday and Friday,” Rachel said finally. “I have to show houses the rest of the nights, though I’m usually done with that by eight.”

Courtney nodded, hoping her faint blush wasn’t apparent in the dark interior of the car. “Great. Give me a call when you’ve decided which night works best, and we’ll plan on it. Is there anything you’re allergic to or don’t like?”

Rachel pursed her lips and squinted in thought and again, Courtney had to look away. “Nope. I think I’m good. No allergies.” She added with a smirk, “I’m not really a fan of Brussels sprouts, but I’ll eat them.”

“I’m making a mental note. No Brussels sprouts. Got it.”

They made a right-hand turn and came to a stop. Courtney was surprised to note they were in her driveway. Her Jetta sat alone; Amelia’s car was nowhere to be seen, her project probably long completed.

“Home sweet home,” Rachel said.

“So it is.”

Noting the darkness of the windows, Rachel commented, “You know, you should put a light on a timer so it looks like somebody’s home. For safety.”

Courtney turned to look her in the eyes, and the pale blue color of them was shockingly apparent even in the faint light available. “You’re right. I’ll do that,” she said softly. She wet her lips and added, “I really had a great time tonight, Rachel. Thank you.”

Rachel shifted in the driver’s seat so she faced Courtney. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. So did I. Thanks for indulging me.”

The air in the car seemed suddenly thick, heavy, and warm, almost intoxicating. They looked at one another for several long seconds before Rachel leaned forward and placed her lips gently on Courtney’s. The kiss wasn’t demanding or controlling at all, which surprised Courtney for some reason. Instead, it was soft, gentle, promising, and it took her completely by surprise. She sank into it, wanting to let Rachel set the pace, but there was a sudden blossoming in her core, a wanting she hadn’t felt in what seemed like decades. She reached up and placed her hand on the side of Rachel’s face, the skin there soft as velvet. She threaded her fingers into the hair at the base of Rachel’s neck and tightened her hold, parting her lips just enough to allow the tip of her tongue to dart out, testing the waters. She heard a sharp intake of breath and then Rachel’s tongue touched hers, the warm wet of it so delicious Courtney almost cried out.

She pulled back then, suddenly, and released her hold. Rachel withdrew as well, her chest heaving as deeply as Courtney’s, apparently as startled as she was at the turn of events. Courtney brought her fingers to her own lips and blinked at Rachel in astonished surprise.

“Um…” Rachel managed only one word, seemingly unable to form a coherent thought.

“Yeah,” Courtney responded with a vigorous nod, additional words eluding her. After several more seconds, she reached for the door handle, feeling the overwhelming urge to get out of the car before whatever was going on between them consumed her completely. “You’ll call me? With your schedule?”

Rachel stared at her, as if trying to catch up. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Great.” Courtney stepped out of the car, then turned back and leaned down. “I really did have a wonderful time.”

Rachel smiled, relief flooding over every other emotion. “Good. Me, too.”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay.”

*

Rachel remained in the driveway, watching Courtney walk to the side door of her house and wondering how she could look so beautiful in the unflattering outside light that cast weird shadows over her frame. Courtney got the door unlocked, then turned and waved to Rachel before entering the house. Rachel waved back, slid her gearshift into reverse, and backed out of the driveway, realizing she had been pleasantly surprised by the direction the evening had taken. She wasn’t sure what exactly she’d expected, but it certainly hadn’t been making out in her car while sitting in Courtney’s driveway. She hadn’t even intended to kiss her. And when she had, it was just going to be a quick peck, a chaste I-had-a-good-time sort of thing. The participation of tongues was something she hadn’t counted on.

Baggage or no baggage, that woman certainly can kiss. Wow.

She drove home unsure, a bit shaken, and with a silly grin plastered on her face.

Chapter Nine

“Oh, baby. God damn, you’re so wet.”

“Please…”

“I’m still shocked sometimes, you know? After all these years I still can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

“Please. Honey, please?”

“I was watching you tonight, across the room. You were so damn sexy, just standing there talking to that guy. He wanted you. You know that, don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You were standing close to him, laughing at his jokes. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Theresa, please…touch me?”

“You knew he wanted you and you used that to make me jealous, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“He wanted to touch these breasts…wanted them in his big, meaty hands…wanted his mouth on them just like this.”

“Oh, God.”

“I could tell. You were talking and he was watching your chest.”

“Honey…please? Please…”

“And all I kept thinking was, ‘Go ahead, dude. Look all you want. Fantasize all you want. You’ll never have her. She’s going home with me. You know why? Because she’s mine. Not yours. Mine.’”

“Theresa…”

“You’re mine, Courtney.”

“Yes…please…touch me…”

“You’re mine…”

Courtney’s eyes popped open. She lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. Breathing in ragged gasps, she tried hard to calm her racing heart, her entire body radiating heat. Like an electric blanket, her skin emanated even warmth. Theresa’s words still echoed through her subconscious.

“You’re mine…”

She remembered that night more vividly than almost any other memories she had of her lost wife. It was the last time they’d made love and it was by far one of the most passionate. They’d been at a holiday party with a bunch of local educators and Courtney had been cornered by a fellow teacher—she couldn’t even recall his name now—and had feigned polite interest. She’d realized two things at once: the man was more interested in her breasts than her words, and Theresa was watching from across the room. She could still feel the whoosh of eroticism when she understood the power she suddenly held. Inching closer to the man, she didn’t flinch away when he leaned closer and said something supposedly funny in her ear. She laughed at his lame attempt at a joke and casually put her hand on his arm as she spoke to him. Peripherally, she watched her wife and saw the subtle shift in her stance. Theresa, too, was having a conversation with somebody, but Courtney could tell she was paying more attention to what was going on across the room than to the words her companion was saying to her.

Upon their return home late that night, they’d barely made it through the front door before Theresa was on her, kissing her possessively, nipping at her skin, pulling at her clothes. They left a telltale trail of fabric from the foyer up the stairs—a blouse here, a pair of panties there—until Theresa had slammed her onto her back on their bed. She’d remained on her back well into the wee hours of the morning, Theresa laying claim to her, body and soul, over and over again, until she’d begged…for everything. She’d begged to be touched. She’d begged for release. She’d begged for sleep when Theresa had whispered “again” seductively and demandingly in her ear.

Now, in the darkness and solitude of her new bedroom, Courtney rolled over onto her side and tucked her legs up so she was as small as a child. The hot burning between her thighs pounded, trying to get her attention, trying to coax her fingers there to relieve the pressure, but she was too freaked out by the timing to allow herself the pleasure.

She had kissed Rachel. Well, technically, Rachel had kissed her. But Courtney had kissed her back, and more importantly, she’d
wanted
her. And then she’d had a sex dream about Theresa. It was a little too coincidental to be a coincidence.

The throbbing between her legs refused to let up. She squeezed her thighs together tightly and balled the pillow in her fist.

Yes, she’d been with another woman since Theresa’s death, but it was a disaster, something that never should have happened. Courtney had had too much to drink, she’d forced herself to do something she thought she
should
do, but had realized much too late that she wasn’t ready to do. She’d hurt not only herself, but the other woman as well.

She rolled over onto her other side, feeling suddenly wide-awake and still uncomfortably turned on, steadfast in her refusal to grant herself any relief. She knew it was a ridiculous form of punishment for what had happened between her and Rachel, but somewhere deep in her subconscious was the little voice that would forever accuse her of cheating on Theresa whenever she so much as thought about another woman. As she recalled the very first time she’d masturbated after Theresa’s death, her eyes welled. She’d cried all through that orgasm, certain she’d done something horribly disrespectful to Theresa’s memory. It didn’t matter that she’d masturbated plenty of times when Theresa was alive. Her anguish was irrational and she knew it, and she still couldn’t hold back the tide of emotion that had washed over her. She’d stayed in bed for more than two days afterward. Amelia had to bodily pull her from the sheets and force her into the shower.

Her emotions were sitting too close to the surface now. She couldn’t allow herself to think about Rachel, to think about how good it felt to be next to her, to kiss her, to
want
her. Courtney knew at that moment that if she dwelled on what it all meant, she’d dissolve into heart-wrenching sobs and she just couldn’t bring herself to go there. The bright red numbers on the bedside clock said 3:57 and she knew instinctively she’d be getting no more sleep.

In the kitchen, she put the teakettle on the stove to heat up some water and puttered around in the dim yellow of the night-light Amelia had plugged in for her. It seemed less disturbing than turning the overhead light on, and she made tea often enough that she could probably do it in her sleep anyway.

Hot mug in hand, she wandered through the dining room in her bathrobe, the smell of wallpaper paste still tickling her nostrils. Amelia had done a beautiful job, and Courtney had the sudden urge to call her and tell her so again until she remembered the ungodly hour.

The yellow hue from the streetlights outside shone in just enough to help Courtney revisualize the subtle grapevine design of the border that ran along the wall against the ceiling. She’d decided to decorate the dining room in a slight and understated wine theme, with grapevines and old wine labels as part of the décor. She had her eye on a nice wood and wrought-iron wine rack that she planned to buy soon, stain to match the gumwood trim of the house, and place right against the wall centered beneath the high leaded-glass windows that were on the…

Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced up at one of the windows and focused on the silhouette outlined in the window of Bob’s house next door, seemingly looking right at her. With her heart hammering in her chest, Courtney moved quickly out of the line of sight, pressing her back against the dining room wall as if she were some sleuth in a mystery novel, about to be caught by the villain. Her tea sloshed over her hand and she gritted her teeth against the heat of it, but she was too panicked to move and set it down. She gave herself a few seconds to catch her breath, her palm to her chest like an elderly woman as she looked around and tried to think clearly. The dining room was dark. The streetlights peeking in dimly didn’t do much to lighten it, and she almost chuckled when she realized Bob probably couldn’t see inside at all—if that’s what he was even doing. Despite the pounding of her heart and the overexcited rushing of her blood, she rolled her eyes at herself.