Amor and More Page 4

  The screen door creaked, but Reid didn’t turn around, instead enjoying a moment of anticipation before Isabel appeared beside her.

  “Are you okay?” Isabel asked as she pressed their shoulders together.

  Reid nodded, not quite trusting her voice through a sudden rush of emotion. She’d been fighting a breakdown all day and Isabel pulled at her defenses.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Not yet.”

  “Why don’t you go change and put on something comfortable? I’ll make you some dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Have you eaten anything today?”

  “No.” She’d been in a fog since the phone call. In fact, she still wore her BDU pants and a navy T-shirt emblazoned with the department logo that she’d put on for work that morning.

  “I should go to the station.” She could immerse herself in work, insulate herself from the feelings assaulting her now.

  “I thought you said Megan called someone to cover for you.”

  “She did. But there’s no need to pay overtime when I can be there.”

  “No.”

  “Iz—”

  “No. When you respond to a bad call, I give you space until you want to talk about it. I’ve watched you work it out with your crew and I do my best not to take it personally when you seem to shut me out. But this…is personal. And you’re going to let me in. Maybe not right this minute. But you won’t run away from me either.”

  She would let her in. She shielded Isabel from many of the things she saw on the job, but not because she needed to protect herself from Isabel. She’d long ago given up on that. She would give Isabel everything and didn’t need to hold anything back. She turned and draped her arms around Isabel’s shoulders, sighing with relief when Isabel’s arms tightened around her waist.

  She felt as if she’d been fighting a five-alarm fire. The emotional beating she’d taken today magnified her physical exhaustion. And now it took every ounce of strength she had to remain upright and cling to Isabel. She fisted her hands in the back of Isabel’s cotton shirt, pressed her cheek against her neck, and breathed in deeply. The light, blackberry-scented body spray Isabel preferred mixed with her chemistry to create a scent more intoxicating than any expensive perfume.

  “Come inside.” Isabel took her hand and led her into the kitchen. She crossed to the cabinet and got a frying pan.

  “I don’t think I can eat.” Reid took the pan from Isabel and set it on the counter. “I told you, I’m not hungry.”

  Isabel laid her hand against Reid’s cheek. “I just want to take care of you.”

  “Okay.” She took Isabel’s hand and led her down the hall toward their bedroom. She stopped beside their bed and held her arms out at her sides. “You may begin pampering me now.”

  Isabel smiled and stepped closer. She rested her fingertips against Reid’s collarbones. “Your uniform still confuses me.” She swept her fingers across her chest to her shoulders. “I want to hate them, but whether like this, or in your Class A’s, or all sooty and sweating in your turnout gear,” she grinned wide and winked, “especially then, you’re so damn sexy.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to confuse you.” Reid grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. She dropped it on the floor beside the bed and reached for the waistband of her pants, but Isabel shooed her hands aside.

  “Let me.” She opened Reid’s fly and pushed the pants down her hips, taking her underwear with them. When they pooled over the tops of her boots, Isabel shoved her back onto the bed, tugged open the laces, and wedged off her boots, letting each one fall with a thud before removing her pants as well.

  Reid rolled over, intent on burrowing under the covers, but Isabel grabbed her arm.

  “Not yet.” She pulled her off the bed and turned her toward the bathroom. “Turn on the shower.”

  While Reid adjusted the water, Isabel shed her own clothes. They stepped into the large tiled stall together, each easing under one of the dual showerheads Reid had installed when she’d renovated the master bath the year before. Hot water cascaded over Reid’s body, washing away her will to continue fighting her fatigue.

  She stood, compliant, while Isabel lathered her body and fruit-scented steam filled the air around them. Instead of Reid’s usual Irish Spring soap, Isabel selected her own body wash.

  “Now I’ll smell like you,” Reid said.

  Isabel moved Reid under the water, gliding her hands over her as she rinsed away the suds. “Is that so bad?”

  Reid shook her head. “Sometimes I use yours just so I can smell it throughout the day when I’m not with you.”

  “I wondered why I ran out so often.”

  “But it’s not the same on me.”

  “Stay in here for a moment so you don’t get chilled.” Isabel stepped out and reached for her towel.

  Reid ducked her head under the water and closed her eyes. Shortly after Jimmy died, Reid had returned from the cemetery soaking wet and freezing. Isabel had put her in the shower in much the same way as she had today. That time she hadn’t gotten in with her, though Reid suspected they’d both wanted her to.

  That evening had been one of the turning points in their relationship. And when Reid thought about all that they’d been through since, all of the amazing memories they’d made together, she couldn’t imagine ever jeopardizing their happiness. Isabel and Chase mattered more to her than anything else in the world. Had her father ever felt that way about his family? If he had, how had things gone so drastically different?

  Reid was saved from trying to answer that question when Isabel opened the shower door and stretched out a large, fluffy towel for her. Without hesitation, Reid turned off the water and stepped into her arms.

  *

  Reid slid between the sheets, then held the top one up and waited for Isabel to join her. They settled comfortably together in their usual manner, Isabel tucked into the curve of her outstretched arm and resting her head on Reid’s shoulder.

  Isabel traced the valley down the center of Reid’s chest, then circled under the swell of one breast.

  “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Reid swept her hand down Isabel’s back, caressing the arch of her spine as it led into the swell of her buttocks. She’d never tire of following that line of silky skin.

  “I have some idea.” Isabel kissed the outside of Reid’s breast, sending shivers over her skin.

  “I loved you for so long, I thought I knew. But when you started to love me back—sometimes it’s almost too much.” Reid stumbled over the emotion that flooded her and brought a thickness to her throat.

  “I know, sweetheart.” Isabel’s tone was meant to soothe, and her touch against Reid’s skin remained maddeningly gentle. But desire swept through Reid as sure as each stroke of Isabel’s fingers. She moved over her and pressed her hips between her legs, spreading them farther. “You don’t have to—”

  “Shh. I need to do this. I want to show you…” Though she didn’t finish the sentence, she sensed that Isabel knew. She needed to feel her—to cling to her.

  “Okay. But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now.” Isabel rolled her over, reversing their positions smoothly. She arched back and pulled her upper body away to look into Reid’s eyes.

  Isabel braced her arms beside Reid’s shoulders, and the long, toned muscles of her biceps flexed, carving ridges and valleys through her creamy skin. When they worked out together, Reid lifted heavier weights, intent on building mass and strength, while Isabel chose lighter weights and knocked out twice as many reps. Reid kissed Isabel’s upper arm and stroked the taut muscle, appreciating her quiet power.

  Isabel captured her mouth in a kiss that began tenderly, then flared as her lips parted and she stroked her tongue against Reid’s. As Isabel rose back up, the sheet fell down her back. Reid grabbed it and pulled it tight around her waist, bringing their lower bodies flush. She spread her legs and pressed he
r knees to the sides of Isabel’s hips. When Isabel thrust against her, Reid lifted her own hips to meet her, seeking more. She slid her hands up Isabel’s back, urging her down until their chests rested together.

  “I love you like this,” Reid whispered, reveling in the feel of Isabel against her, the hard points of Isabel’s nipples against the soft curve of her breasts. She slipped her hand under the curtain of Isabel’s hair and pressed her hand to the back of Isabel’s neck. “You’re the only one to ever make me feel this way.”

  “What way?” Isabel murmured against Reid’s throat.

  “Weak. And strong at the same time.” She’d never given herself to anyone as she did Isabel, trusting her to keep her safe when she let her guard down.

  “Hmm, is that why you fought us so hard in the beginning?”

  “That’s one of many reasons I fought us.”

  “Aren’t you glad now that you gave in?” Isabel rubbed her finger over Reid’s nipple.

  “It’s working out so far.”

  Isabel pinched and Reid pulled in a breath at the shot of pleasure. Isabel smiled and started to slide down Reid’s body, dropping kisses on her chest, then her stomach.

  “No. Stay with me.” Reid pulled her back up. Isabel’s mouth was certain to get her off quickly, but right now she didn’t care if she even finished as long as she could stay wrapped up in Isabel’s loving gaze.

  “I’m right here,” Isabel said as she covered her once more. “Whatever you need.”

  “God, is it too much of a cliché to say I want you to hold me?”

  Isabel laughed softly. “No, it’s been a long day.” She shifted and stretched out beside Reid. “Come here.”

  Reid turned into her embrace. She rested her cheek against Isabel’s breast and focused on the steady beat of Isabel’s heart instead of on the emotions of the day that threatened to swamp her once more. She slowed her breathing to match the rise and fall of Isabel’s chest.

  “He was my hero.”

  “I know.” Isabel threaded her fingers through Reid’s hair.

  “Emphasis on the was, I guess.”

  “When he got hurt and retired, it broke something in him and he never recovered.” Isabel’s response painted her father as a victim, and something about that didn’t sit well with Reid. She’d always placed the blame squarely on her father’s shoulders. “I know you’ve held on to a lot of anger. But don’t you have some good memories of your childhood—times when he was there for you, lessons he taught you? Do his mistakes erase all of those things?”

  “We’ve talked about this before. I don’t forgive as easily as you do.”

  “You can. After Jimmy died, I said some pretty horrible things to you. You forgave me.”

  “I was trying to get in your pants,” Reid joked, though she knew Isabel made valid points.

  “You and Jimmy idolized him when we were kids, and his withdrawal took that from you. But he’s lost a lot, too. It sounds like he’s been making some big changes.”

  “He didn’t have much choice, once he got sick.”

  “But he did. He could have kept drinking himself to death. Even under those circumstances, I’m sure quitting wasn’t easy for him. He’s not perfect, but none of us are.”

  “It’s not fair.” If in fact her days with him were numbered, possibly the only thing she could control was how she spent that time. “I’m not ready to lose him.”

  “We’re never ready to lose our parents, honey.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “You sleep for a while.” When Reid lifted her head to protest, Isabel held her in place. “You’re exhausted. Nap for at least an hour. Later we’ll go back to the hospital. Maybe he’ll be awake and you’ll be able to talk to him some more.”

  Reid snuggled closer to Isabel, fatigue overtaking her now that she’d starting letting go of some of her emotional baggage. She wrapped her arm around Isabel’s waist and held tight. They would go together, and maybe this time she would ask Isabel to go in the room with her.

  With Isabel at her side, she could say what she needed to say. She could get her father back, for however long she had him.

  Don’t ever put anything in front of them. Her father’s words wavered through her head as she closed her eyes. She took several deep breaths, but her mind refused to quiet.

  “Isabel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m ready to tell you about my conversation with him today.”

  D. Jackson Leigh grew up barefoot and happy, swimming in farm ponds and riding rude ponies in rural south Georgia. Her passion for writing led her to a career in journalism and North Carolina, where she edits breaking news at night and writes lesbian romance stories by day. Friend her at facebook.com/d.jackson.leigh, on Twitter @djacksonleigh, or at www.djacksonleigh.com.

  This story features characters from Long Shot.

  The Pond

  D. Jackson Leigh

  Willie Greyson sat on the weathered dock and extended her long legs out over the water. She dipped her heels, then immersed her feet in the sun-warmed pond. She wiggled her toes and frowned.

  It seemed like she’d spent a lifetime at this small oasis hidden on the back part of Lori’s father’s farm, a lifetime of long minutes waiting for Lori to appear on the path across from the dock. They’d begun meeting here when they were just girls, Lori’s hair in pigtails and Willie’s in a single long braid. They were best friends. Willie fished and Lori talked. Damn, she could talk the paint off the side of a barn.

  Then things changed. While Willie grew tall and lanky, Lori remained petite, her body softened with lush, womanly curves. Their relationship changed, too.

  They discovered they wanted more.

  Their first kiss had been at the beach. She’d borrowed Papa’s truck and they spent the day sitting on the sand and wading in the surf hand in hand. They explored a rock outcropping, then stopped to rest in the secluded shade of a large boulder. They sat shoulder to shoulder and Lori trembled against her. It was much too warm to be chilled, but Willie wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. Lori looked up, their faces a hairsbreadth apart. Before Willie had time to change her mind, she lowered her head and kissed her. Lori’s lips were soft and warm and tasted faintly of the salt spray.

  She drove home with Lori pressed against her side, until she pulled off onto a tractor path near Lori’s house and stole another long, exploring kiss. That kiss left her breathless and hungry. But for what? Did other women have the same feelings for each other? She instinctively knew this was something they must hide, but it didn’t stop them.

  The kiss was followed by weeks, months, of more stolen kisses, tentative touches, and frustrated partings.

  Willie wanted more.

  She had a pretty good idea what “more” meant after one of their long make-out sessions had led her to a stunning discovery. She’d been confused by the dampness in her crotch afterward and surprised when it reappeared that night as she lay in bed and relived their kisses. She smoothed her hand down her belly and slid her fingers into her stiff curls. Yes, she was wet again. Was she ill? She didn’t feel bad. In fact, it felt pretty good, really good when her fingers slid across her swollen tissue. A few more strokes and she experienced her first toe-curling, eye-opening orgasm. Wow. What had she done? Could she make it happen again? Did Lori know about this?

  “More” became her new mission.

  Lori was so beautiful. One look as she appeared at the edge of the pond’s clearing and Willie wanted to bury her fingers in her thick mahogany curls. She wanted to stare into those sable-brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes and soak up the strength and shy affection she saw there. She wanted to feather kisses across the freckles that dotted Lori’s otherwise flawless skin and to taste those soft lips.

  She wanted that, but today she planned to have more.

  Lori paused and their eyes locked. Willie was already wet from the anticipation, and seeing Lori standing in the sunlight, barefoot and clot
hed only in a simple sleeveless gingham dress, made her stand to relieve the uncomfortable pressure building in her loins. The wood dock was hot against her bare feet as she trotted to the pond’s grassy bank and skirted the water to meet Lori under a huge shade oak.

  Willie kissed her shyly, and the question in Lori’s eyes told Willie that her nervousness was showing.

  “I brought a blanket and I swiped a jar of Papa’s scuppernong wine,” she said.

  Lori smiled at the small feast Willie had spread out for them—wine, cheese, and soda crackers—and they sat with the food between them.

  “Oh, Willie, this is wonderful. You won’t get in trouble for the wine, will you?”

  Willie grinned at her. “No, but one of my brothers might. Papa would never believe I did it.”

  Lori shook her head, but smiled. “You’re such a scamp. Your poor brothers, always taking the blame.”

  “They’ve all done it before, so they’ll be too busy blaming each other to think it could be me.” She uncapped the mason jar, handed it to Lori, and watched her take a sip.

  “It’s sweet,” Lori said.

  “Sweet like you.” Willie followed Lori’s pink tongue swiping across her lips to gather all of the grapes’ nectar. Her cheeks heated when she realized Lori caught her staring, and she began to ramble nervously. “It won a blue ribbon at the county fair last year. Papa says this year’s batch is even better, and he’s going to enter the fair again next month.”

  Lori handed the jar back to Willie and lowered her eyes, toying with the hem of her dress.

  Willie frowned. “What’s the matter? Is the wine too sweet?”

  “No, the wine is perfect.” She looked at Willie, affection softening her gaze. “You’re perfect.” Her expression turned to frustration. “It’s just that, well, Earl Montgomery asked Daddy if he could take me to the fair next month. I told Daddy I was going with you, but Mama said it’s time for me to start paying some attention to boys.”