Love's Masquerade Page 26

  “Here’s the bedroom,” Hays said as she indicated the room beyond the open doorway. “The bath is inside to the right.” She reached inside, flipped a switch which lit a bedside lamp, then turned and caught Auden around the waist, pulling her into an embrace. The kiss lasted longer than Hays had intended. Auden’s mouth was so warm, so soft, that she was immediately lost in the sweetness. It wasn’t until she realized that they were both panting slightly and that Auden’s hand was under her shirt, stroking her abdomen and sending delicious tremors down her thighs, that she drew back. “Just something to remember me by while you shower.”

  “Oh,” Auden breathed in a throaty whisper. “Believe me, I won’t forget. Hurry back.”

  “You won’t even know I’m gone.” Hays kissed her again, then, with one last smile, turned and headed quickly to the staircase and out of sight.

  Auden was astounded to discover that it actually hurt to watch Hays walk away. The desire she had felt only seconds before coalesced into a hard ache in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it was merely the flush of arousal denied or another newly found emotion—the fear of losing Hays. The arrival of love had opened vistas of possibility and delivered a gemini of inextricably bound sentiments—joy and terror. Auden was at a loss to tell, sometimes, which one it was she felt. Pleasure and pain so often, it appeared, hurt the same.

  Moments later, Auden emerged from the bathroom after a hurried shower, a towel wrapped around her body, to discover Hays sitting on the side of the bed, barefoot but still in her clothes. She’d started another fire in the bedroom fireplace and turned out the lights. The room was warm, the air shimmering with firelight and promise.

  “Hello again,” Auden said as she approached. Now that they were there, in the bedroom, in the undeniably beautiful and intimate surroundings, she felt both shy and excited. Another first time. Another memory to be cherished.

  In an unusually hesitant voice, Hays said, “I didn’t get undressed. I thought maybe you’d want to do that.”

  Auden caught her breath, her legs suddenly so weak she had to fight to stay upright. “Oh, yes. Yes, I would.”

  Slowly, Hays stood and stepped forward until she was inches from Auden. “Is here okay?”

  “Perfect.” Auden found it difficult to speak, her throat was so filled with emotion. Desire, gratitude, wonder. Slowly, she opened the last buttons on Hays’ shirt, spreading the material as she moved down her body. As Hays stood facing the fire, the flames’ reflection danced along the surface of her skin like otherworldly fingers. “I love the way you look.”

  “I’m glad.” Hays shivered lightly as Auden bent to kiss the inner surface of her breast. Her need, ignited by their earlier lovemaking, had never abated but had merely steeped, like embers beneath ashes, while they had slept. The merest brush of Auden’s gaze inflamed her.

  “I’m sorry I’m not as practiced at this as you,” Auden murmured, releasing the button on Hays’s waistband.

  “Oh no,” Hays whispered, at once cupping her palm beneath Auden’s chin and staring intently into her eyes. “You’re exactly what I need. Take your time—I want every touch to last...a lifetime.”

  Auden’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Don’t.” Hays’s voice was tender. “Keep going. You make me feel wonderful. Please.”

  Smiling tremulously, Auden nodded. Then, as her hands grazed the skin of Hays’s abdomen and the muscles tensed at her touch, she forgot her grief, lost in the splendor of the moment. She slipped the shirt from Hays’ shoulders and let it fall onto a nearby chair. Hays’s nipples were hard, enticingly erect, and Auden couldn’t resist fondling them, gently squeezing until Hays softly groaned. Emboldened, Auden brought her mouth to Hays’s while sliding her hands into Hays’s trousers and pushing them down over her hips. They kissed, their lips the only point of contact as Hays stepped free of the pants.

  Releasing the towel, Auden let it drop to join the trousers on the floor, pressed against Hays, and wrapped her arms around her waist. She was naked, and Hays’s briefs were all that remained between them now.

  “Auden,” Hays gasped, as she felt Auden’s hands caress the length of her back. “I’ve never...felt like this before.”

  “Like how?” Auden pressed her mouth to the hollow below Hays’s collarbone and sucked lightly on the soft skin. “Hmm?”

  “Like...oh...” Hays swayed and had to steady herself by gripping Auden’s hips. “Like I could stay in this one spot forever and never want for anything else.”

  Auden slowly traced a finger along the inside band of Hays’s briefs, running along her hip, then over the crest of bone, and dipping low over her belly. Hays’s hips lifted as her legs tensed. “We can stay here forever,” Auden promised as she worked her palm beneath the material and pressed lower, her fingers threading through soft curls. “But I want...everything.”

  Hays closed her eyes, her attention riveted on the single focal point of arousal millimeters away from Auden’s fingertips. All thought, every sensation, each iota of awareness was fixed on the instant when flesh answered need.

  “Let’s lie down,” Auden whispered, withdrawing her hand. “So I can touch you.”

  “Oh, Jesus, yes.”

  Taking Hays by the hand, Auden stepped to the bed and drew the covers down. Then she reached for Hays’s briefs. “One last item.”

  An instant later, they were in bed, Hays half sitting, propped up against the pillows, Auden reclining next to her, supported on a bent elbow so that she could look down the length of Hays’s body and touch her anywhere. Everywhere.

  “Teach me what you like,” Auden said softly, smoothing her palm down the center of Hays’s body, then resting a cupped hand between her thighs.

  Hays stroked the back of Auden’s neck with trembling fingers, staring at the delicate hand lightly holding her. “I like everything you do. I like...” Her throat closed off with a choked whimper as Auden slid one finger along the side of her clitoris.

  “That?” Auden’s voice was hoarse. A huge fist had closed around her heart, and it was hard for her to breathe. She had never been so excited in her life. She moved her finger, felt the stiff shaft pulse. “Do you like that?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes.” Hays pressed her left hand hard against the bed, the other clutching Auden’s shoulder. She watched Auden stroke her slowly, the twin sensations of sight and touch almost too much to bear. It was so exquisite, her stomach cramped with pleasure.

  “You’re so wet.” Auden smoothed her fingertips through the evidence of Hays’s passion, astounded at the rush of warmth between her own thighs. She drew her fingers upward, felt the echoing pulsation in her own engorged flesh. “So hard.”

  Hays fought to keep her eyes open, but her mind was dissolving into heat and color. Her vision dimmed as Auden’s caress became firmer, faster.

  “Will this make you come?”

  “Uh...huh,” Hays managed, staring through half-closed lids at the hand circling between her thighs, every muscle clenched, her hips rocking, nerve endings on the brink of going off in Auden’s hand.

  Auden wasn’t sure which was more beautiful, the way Hays felt thrusting beneath her fingers, or the way she looked, poised to orgasm. She drew a surprised breath, her eyes locking with Hays. “Oh my God.” Hays’s pupils dilated, flickering wildly. “I can feel you coming.”

  Legs tightening around Auden’s hand, Hays tensed, gave a small cry, and shuddered into orgasm. As the pleasure jolted through her, she pulled Auden into her arms, needing as much contact as possible. The weight of Auden’s body bearing down on her, the hand still massaging her exploding flesh, set off another round of spasms, and she cried out again.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Auden moaned, her face buried in Hays’s neck. It was all too much—the wonder, the excitement, the heart-wrenching beauty of the woman in her arms. Tears flooded her eyes, wet her cheeks, even as she felt her own body soar to a climax.

  It was impossible to tell who sheltered whom as they
rocked together in the aftermath of passion, each murmuring assurances and tenderly stroking away their mingled tears. Facing one another, arms and legs entwined, their smiles were twin reflections of vulnerability and awe.

  “I don’t—”

  “I’ve never—”

  They both laughed.

  “You leave me unable to say what I want to with frightening regularity,” Hays confessed. “For an author, that’s rare.”

  “Margo wrote something that I think of every time I look at you,” Auden whispered.

  “Oh, really?” Hays raised an eyebrow, then traced a finger over Auden’s mouth, smiling when she received a kiss. “What?”

  “‘After being with you, any other love would be but a pale imitation.’”

  “Oh, sweet Auden.” Hays’s heart nearly broke to see the tears shimmer again on Auden’s lids. “No.”

  “Promise me you won’t give up, Hays.” Auden threaded trembling fingers into Hays’s hair, forcing Hays to look at her. “Promise me you’ll fight.”

  Hays answered the only way she dared. With a kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “I guess it would be a problem if we both showed up late for work again, huh?” Auden lay in Hays’s arms, her head nestled in the crook of her lover’s neck.

  “Mmm.” Hays made lazy circles on Auden’s back, unable to think of another thing she would rather be doing. “Would it bother you if people knew?”

  “About us?” Auden kissed Hays’s jaw. “God, no. It’s going to be all I can do not to put a big sign on you at the convention in New York saying don’t touch, she’s mine.”

  I’d like to be yours. I’d like to be yours forever and beyond. Hays pressed her lips to Auden’s hair, unable to answer. She hadn’t been so close to tears so often since the day that Paul Rosenberg had explained to her why she was too tired to work a full day and why the smallest cut bled for hours. Auden was the answer to every dream she had ever dreamed, the embodiment of every love story she had ever written, and now that she’d found her, it was too late.

  “Hays?” Auden felt the sudden tension. “Too soon? I didn’t mean to sound so possessive—”

  “No.” Hays’s voice was hoarse with the struggle to hold back the tears. “Not too soon at all.” Too late. Can’t you see that it’s already too late? She cupped Auden’s cheek and kissed her mouth softly, a lingering kiss that spoke of cherishing and devotion. “It’s not necessary, but I’d wear a sandwich board saying Property of Auden Frost if it would make you happy.”

  Auden leaned up on her elbow and searched Hays’s face. “Then what is it? What hurts you?”

  Hays looked away. Auden drew her face back with a finger against her chin. “What is it, sweetheart? Please tell me.”

  “I want you so much,” Hays whispered.

  “Believe me, you have me.” Auden kissed her lightly, then drew away, studying her eyes. And waited.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  Auden bit the inside of her lip, determined not to cry. She nodded, praying that the moisture pooling on her lashes would not fall.

  “But I’m afraid that I will,” Hays admitted, “and I’m afraid it’s wrong to let you love me.”

  “I already do love you.” Auden stilled the protest she knew was coming with a finger against Hays’s mouth. “I do. Accept it or don’t accept it, but let it be because of what you want, not because of what you fear.”

  “I want it. God, I want you, but—”

  “No buts.” Auden rested her hand on Hays’s abdomen, tenderly stroking her. She loved the way Hays’ skin felt, so soft and so different from the firm muscles beneath. She loved touching her and couldn’t imagine a day without being able to. If she thought about that possibility, she knew she would scream. “Tell me about the bone marrow transplant.”

  Hays closed her eyes, and for a moment, Auden thought she wouldn’t answer. It took everything she had not to push. She just continued her gentle caresses, letting Hays know she was not alone.

  “My brother Christopher has offered to donate, if I decide...” To take the chance. “That improves my odds.”

  Odds. The word, the concept, when applied to Hays’s life, was indescribably terrifying. Auden took her time, making sure her voice was steady. “That’s good then, right?”

  “Paul—Paul Rosenberg, my hematologist—wants to try something new. There’s a procedure called a mini bone marrow transplant.” Hays grimaced. “It’s complicated.”

  “What an understatement.” Auden laughed harshly. “Tell me the best you can.”

  “Well, the process is simpler in some ways than traditional bone marrow transplants. It’s a lot shorter, which means that I wouldn’t have to stay in the hospital for weeks. They use less chemotherapy and radiation before the transplant, which means that I’m not likely to have the really bad side effects—hair loss, intestinal bleeding, nausea and vomiting—the list goes on.” She swallowed hard, threading her fingers through Auden’s. “That’s the good part.”

  Auden kissed her forehead. “Okay so far. What else?”

  “The theory is that the cells from the donor are healthier than my own bone marrow, and they will attack my sick cells and kill them, then repopulate my bone marrow with all new healthy cells.” Hays smiled, but her eyes were damp. “If that happens, there’s a better chance of cure than with any other treatment.”

  “What’s the downside?” Auden knew there had to be a reason that Hays hadn’t done this already. She understood that part of Hays’s reluctance was the fact that there was no guarantee that it would work, that it was the choice of last resort. But God, just hearing about it gives me hope.

  Hays tried to sound nonchalant, but her entire body was rigid. “This process, where the healthy cells kill the bad cells, can get out of hand, apparently. The reaction can end up involving healthy tissues, and there’s a chance that I could have other organs fail. Then...” She gave a small laugh. “There’s always the chance that it won’t work quite right, and the healthy cells will kill off my bone marrow but not repopulate, leaving me with nothing at all. So, the downside is the same as what we’re looking at now—I die.”

  “Okay, what are the chances?” Auden was nauseous and hoped it didn’t show. She wanted someone to be angry with; she wanted someone, something, anything, to blame; she wanted a weapon with which to fight back. Having none of those things left her feeling helpless and grief stricken and, unless she fought it, defeated. If she felt that way, she could only imagine what it must be like for Hays.

  “A little bit better than a coin toss.”

  Auden remembered what Gayle had told her about the conventional methods. “That sounds decent. Will you do it?”

  “I think so,” Hays said softly, touching the corner of Auden’s mouth with one finger. “If I do, we won’t know for a while if it works. Until then, you and I should put this...us...on hold.”

  Auden gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I don’t want you to be hurt by all of this, Auden. I don’t want you to suffer through the treatments, and even then—”

  “Stop, Hays. Just...stop.” Auden spoke quietly, tenderly. “You don’t get it, do you? I love you. It isn’t conditional. If we waited for guarantees, we could wait a lifetime. I want every minute that I can have with you.”

  Auden wouldn’t have cried if Hays hadn’t—she was certain of that. But the sight of Hays’s tears was her undoing. With a small cry, Auden gathered Hays into her arms and pressed her lover’s face to her breasts. She didn’t tell her not to cry, but merely held her as tightly as she possibly could. As Hays sobbed, great bone-wracking, shattering sobs, Auden’s tears ran silently down her cheeks. She threaded her fingers in Hays’s hair, caressed her, wrapped arms and legs about her, offering a physical shield with the curve of her own body, as if that would ever be enough. She had never felt so powerless in her life.

  After a while, Hays quieted. She pressed a kiss to Auden’s breast, then lifted her face
until she could meet Auden’s concerned gaze. “Auden, I’m sorry. I’ve never done that before.”

  “Well then, I’m glad you did it now.” Auden kissed her and brushed the last of her tears away with a thumb. “Are you all right?”

  “Better.” Hays managed to grin, a fairly good rendition of her usual one. “We’re going to have to hurry if we’re going to keep our reputations intact at the office.”

  “Well, we should certainly keep our priorities straight.” Auden moved to sit up, but Hays restrained her with a hand on her arm. “What, sweetheart?”

  “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  “What is it?” What more could there be?

  “It’s about the fact that you quoted Margo Elliot last night.”

  “Surely you can’t be jealous.” Auden’s expression was incredulous.

  “I’m not, but Rune might be.”

  Auden laughed out loud and pushed Hays onto her back. Then she climbed on top of her, slid a thigh between Hays’s, and framed her face with her palms. “Rune Dyre has absolutely nothing to worry about. She is, without question, the sexiest, most romantic writer I have ever encountered. And just to be certain there’s no confusion, I’ll send her an e-mail later and tell her so.”

  “She’ll be very happy to hear that, I’m sure.” Hays’s voice had gotten husky. “Now you really do need to get up.”

  “Am I too heavy?”

  “Not at all, my love.” Hays ran her fingertips down either side of Auden’s spine, then cupped her buttocks and pulled her closer. “You’re too exciting.” She shifted her hips slightly, moving against Auden’s skin. “Can you feel what you’ve done to me?”

  “Oh...God,” Auden breathed, instantly aroused. “You’re so wet.”

  “Mmm,” Hays agreed, running her tongue up Auden’s neck. “In another ten seconds, I’m not going to be able to let you up.”

  Auden didn’t want to go, but some part of her insisted that they should. As much as she wanted every second of Hays’s time, together, like this, she knew that they needed a semblance of normality as well. “Do I get a rain check?”