It was an out. Jill could let her go, could let her escape into the cottage. They could avoid
the subject, they could even have lunch. But Jill's grip tightened on Carrie's arm. She
didn't want to let her go.
"Kiss me again," she whispered.
But Carrie shook her head. "No. No, I won't be the one." She stepped away, arms at her
sides.
"I want... I want you to kiss me," Jill said again.
Carrie tilted her head, her eyes looking into Jill's very soul. "Then come kiss me," she
whispered.
It was a command Jill couldn't resist. She took a step closer, feeling the electricity in the
room, seeing the anticipation in Carrie's eyes. She was surprised at the pulse that beat
rapidly at Carrie's throat, surprised at the difficulty she had breathing, surprised at the
need she had to kiss Carrie.
She felt Carrie tremble as she slid her hands up Carrie's arms. Then her own hand shook as
she reached up, her fingers lightly touching Carrie's face. She dropped her gaze from
Carrie's eyes to her lips, watching in fascination as they parted, watching as Carrie's
tongue came out to wet them. The tightening in her chest and the breath she couldn't take
told her all she needed to know. She would surely die if she didn't kiss her.
s o h w e i r r a C , m e h t n e e w t e b e c a p s e h t d e s o l c o h w e i r r a C s a w t i , d n e e h t n i t u B d e m i a l c s p i l ehers with such urgency, such passion, that Jill felt her knees quake from it all.
Her eyes slammed shut as she moaned, her mouth opening as she clutched Carrie's
shoulders. The tongue that shyly, slowly met hers drove out all rational thought. She felt
Carrie's arms slip around her, let herself be pulled flush into her embrace. A feeling like
none she'd never experienced before took hold of her and she let it have full rein. There
was to be no denying it.
That's why—when Carrie stepped away, when they stood there both breathing heavily,
when Carrie tugged on her hand and led her into the cottage—she didn't try to stop, she
didn't try to pull away.
Because there was no denying it.
She stood there silently, the drapes causing shadows to dance upon the bed. There was no
hesitation, no apprehension... there was only nervousness she couldn't quell. But when
Carrie unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her lacy bra... when Jill saw those blue eyes darken
with desire, even the nervousness left her. She let her blouse fall to the floor,
unconcerned with its fate. The wool slacks she'd donned that morning slid smoothly down
her legs. But when Carrie's hands reached for her bra, Jill stopped them.
"Take it off," Jill whispered, tugging at the bulky sweater Carrie wore. Her breath caught
as Carrie pulled the sweater over her head. She wore no bra. Her breasts were small, her
nipples hardening quickly as Jill stared. She finally raised her eyes to Carrie. "We're going
to make love."
Carrie nodded. "Yes, we're going to make love."
Her hands were sure as she reached out to touch Carrie. The skin was soft under her
fingers, soft and smooth, and she realized she had dreamed of this moment since the day
she'd first looked into Carrie's eyes.
She wasn't afraid when Carrie guided her to the bed, wasn't afraid when she pulled Carrie
to her. Instinctively, her hands moved across skin, knowing where to touch, how to touch.
But when Carrie's hands spread her thighs, when Carrie settled between her legs, Jill
wasn't prepared for the way her body reacted to her touch. Her hips rose, melding with
Carrie's, and she felt a flood of wetness soak her. Then Carrie's mouth was there, silencing
her moan, taking the breath from her. But then that mouth pulled away, moving lower.
Jill shuddered when soft lips covered her breast, when a warm tongue raked across her
nipple. Her body pulsed, moving wildly against Carrie's. She ran her fingers through
Carrie's short hair, holding her tightly against her breast. Then a hand moved between
their bodies and she felt Carrie shift, felt that hand slide over her hip.
She wasn't certain what she expected to feel when Carrie touched her, but the jolt of
desire that pierced her soul was not it. Fingers slipped into her wetness and she cried out,
her head tilted back, eyes slammed shut as Carrie entered her. Her hips jerked, taking
Carrie inside, moving with each stroke of her fingers.
Then she felt Carrie move, felt Carrie's wetness as Carrie straddled her thigh. Blindly, she
reached her hand out, wanting to touch Carrie, wanting to feel her. But the instant her
hand moved between their bodies, the instant her fingers felt Carrie's wetness as Carrie
slammed down on them, the instant she touched Carrie, she climaxed with such wild
abandon her throat ached from the scream she tried to contain. Her body nearly convulsed
as she came but she was coherent enough to feel Carrie's orgasm, coherent enough to feel
her fingers enveloped by Carrie's wetness, coherent enough to hear her name leave
Carrie's lips as she came.
Coherent enough to know what they'd just done.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She filled the wineglass for the third time, noting absently that the bottle was nearly
empty. Numbly she set it aside, moving slowly along the deck, staying out of the drizzle
that had been falling all day.
Craig was not home and she had no idea where he was. Angie was up in her room doing
homework. And Jill paced nervously on the deck, her mind racing, thousands of thoughts
crowding in as she tried to determine how she felt. It stood to reason she should feel
guilty. After all, she'd just been intimate with someone other than her husband.
But surprisingly, she was able to push the guilt away. What they'd shared today was
inevitable. Jill couldn't have stopped it any sooner than she could have stopped a speeding
train. She knew when she went there what would happen. She knew it in her heart... she
knew it in her soul.
But what it all meant, she had no idea. There hadn't been time to talk, time to savor their
intimacy. Carrie had asked her to call in, had asked her to stay the afternoon with her but
Jill couldn't think of an excuse to give Harriet.
So in the end, she'd fled, her blouse and suit jacket a wrinkled mess, a testament as to how
she'd spent her lunch hour. As it was, she was twenty minutes late but Harriet didn't
comment. She simply raised her eyebrows as Jill hurried into the ladies' room. And she
nearly cried when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Hardly a hint of makeup remained
and her lips, still swollen from their lovemaking, were unnaturally red.
She looked frightful.
And it was just a blessing she didn't have to face Craig because she had no idea how she
would react when she saw him, no idea what her eyes would reveal. Would he know? Would
he suspect? And the next time he kissed her, would she pull away, would she shy away from
his touch?
His touch. How could she ever allow him to touch her after what she'd just shared with
Carrie? Carrie's touch couldn't have been more different than Craig's, yet her hands upon
her skin made her body come alive, made it tingle with want, with need. It was like Carrie
knew exactly how to touch her, when to touch her... where to touch her.
She paused, the wineglass nearly to her lips but she lowered it again. Yes, Carrie knew how
to touch her. Carrie knew exactly how to touch her.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
She's been with a woman before.