Brianne

We settle into a good routine over the next week. There are two cold, rainy days, where we stay inside. I read while Astrid works on her computer, pouring over the pictures she’s taken so far. I didn’t realize how much post-production work she’d do here, but it’s a good way to use the time when we can’t climb.

I’m starting to have some seriously inappropriate thoughts about other things we could do to pass the time, but I bury them deep—at least while I’m awake.

My dreams are filled with Astrid. Kisses, endless kisses, and whispered demands. I wake up hot and achey in a very empty bed, and lie there staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do about a crush on my boss that’s quickly spiralling out of control.

She hasn’t done anything to encourage me, not after that first night in the hot tub. I wonder if I had a narrow window of opportunity there and I blew it without knowing I wouldn’t get another chance.

I wasn’t ready then. Am I ready now? Who the fuck knows?

But my thighs rub restlessly together, my pussy swells hot and slick, and my body knows. I’m ready, if I can get over my nerves and just say something.

The last few days at the cabin are glorious. Colder now, and there’s more snow on the peaks each day.

On the last day before we’re going to drive back to Vancouver, she takes me on her favourite hike, which requires canoeing across a lake first to find the trail head. We are the only people on the trail the entire day, and it’s incredible.

There’s a moment just before we get back in the canoe when I think she might kiss me, but she clears her throat and moves away.

Say. Something. It’s like a drum beat in my head as we paddle back to the truck.

I say nothing.

Back at the cabin, Astrid carefully inventories her memory cards, copying the data from them onto her computer before putting them away in a locked box. She has a lot of them. She doesn’t overwrite any of them on a trip, she tells me, preferring to use new ones each day just in case there’s a data loss at some point. She has Wi-Fi here in the cabin, and she uploads to the cloud each night—she’s doing that now—but you can never be too safe.

Another point she has in common with her cousin.

I think again about telling her how I was reckless at the start of my Twitter campaign. How I almost got caught, and Marcus figured it out before anyone else did. How he helped me.

Why hasn’t she asked me about that again?

She probably knows all about his tech secrets.

She probably has secrets of her own, and they’re none of my business. And maybe Marcus told her about me, anyway.

I make us a quick, cold dinner with the last of our groceries. “Do you want your food there?”

She looks up from her computer and gives me an absentminded smile. “I’m almost done. You go ahead and I’ll eat in a minute or two.”

Or twenty. I’ve come to learn that she has no sense of time when she’s buried in her work.

I read a bit as I munch on my sandwich, then make a coffee, because we don’t need to go to bed early tonight. My pulse picks up.

She’s still buried in her work, though. I can’t interrupt her now. She didn’t take that many pictures today, but they weren’t planned out, and I’ve learned those take longer for her to sort through than the ones she’s taken as part of a plan. I don’t want to know how long it will take her to pore over them, and selfishly, I hope she won’t want to do that all night long.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I finally say, and she nods without looking up.

But when I step out of the bathroom, wrapped in an oversized towel, her computer is neatly stowed away and she’s nowhere to be found.

I close my bedroom door and lean against it on the inside.

I should get dressed.

What does one wear to seduce a lesbian who thinks you’re straight, because you had a boyfriend two weeks ago?

Don’t hit on your boss, says the angel on one shoulder.

She’s not really your boss, says the angel on my other shoulder.

I refuse to consider that the devil is the voice of reason. Definitely two angels, both with valid points.

I’m going with Angel B.

I go with a t-shirt and shorts, skipping anything underneath, because if I’m lucky…I’ll get lucky. And if I’m not, I’ll have to awkwardly go to bed alone, and I might as well already be in comfortable stuff to sleep in.

As I’m tugging the t-shirt on, I hear her enter the bathroom beside me. The shower turns on. Is she this hyper-aware of my every move through this small space?

I stretch out on the bed and listen to the steady hum of the water. When it turns off, my pulse jacks up. I listen for more movement, but that’s all I can catch.

After an agonizing stretch of silence I finally leap off the bed and pace to the door.

When I open it, she’s right there on the other side, her hand raised as if she were about to knock.

“Hot tub?” she asks.

More anticipation? More longing? She’s a breath away from me, and suddenly anticipation isn’t nearly enough. “Is that what you want?”

Her eyes flare bright, and her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Because I was thinking…” I glance at her mouth, the back to her face. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a ridiculously long time.”

“We met two weeks ago.”

“My point exactly.” I give her a shaky smile. “Ages.”

I lift my hand, and she leans forward as I trace my index finger over the curved ridge of her upper lip, that perfect, snarky cupid’s bow.

“Brianne,” she breathes, and I shake my head.

“Please don’t tell me no.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“Is it?” I lift my finger, and she catches my wrist in her hand.

Her pupils dilate and she lets out a helpless whimper before she pulls my finger back to her mouth. She kisses it, the barest of touches, before releasing me to continue my exploration of her face.

I trail my touch along her jaw, under her ear, until my palm curves around the back of her neck. She closes her eyes as I squeeze there, and her lips part.

What does she taste like? That question bangs like a drum beat in my head, in my breasts, and lower. I close my eyes too, as I lean in.

Anticipation.

An almost kiss.

And then she closes the gap, she takes over, driving her hands into my hair. We hold each other fiercely and I suck in a breath. It’s her breath, really, because her mouth is on mine, and it’s anticipation no more.

This kiss is better than I ever imagined. It’s fiery and intense, a clash of restraint and desire. Her tongue slides against the space between my teeth, and I meet it with my own. We push and taste and swallow each other, parrying back and forth as hunger takes over. More, yes, this, now. My thoughts are chaotic and primal as she presses me against the wall in a mad rush of lips and tongues and the nip of teeth.

When she pulls back, breathless, her eyes are glassy. I’m sure I look the same. I release my grip on her neck and stroke her cheeky softly. “That was...Oh. My. God. You’re really good at that.”

She grins, and it’s like her laugh. A gorgeous and rare gift. Less rare, though, as we spend more time together.

It’s only been a few days. Truth. But sometimes things happen quickly. Life can dump you sideways in a single moment. Sometimes that’s terrifying in a bad way, and sometimes, as scary as it is, you might know deep down that the potential is amazing.

“Kiss me again,” I urge, tugging at her shirt.

She shakes her head, and pain slices through me. Don’t say no, don’t say no— “What am I going to do with you?” she murmurs instead.

“I have some ideas,” I admit.

Her eyes go wide and she leans in, her mouth closing over my bottom lip. She sucks it into her mouth, and I swear it’s hardwired to my clit, because oh my God that feels good.

“Please, Astrid…”

“You’re killing me.”

“The feeling is mutual, I promise you.” I twist around, sliding my fingers through hers so I can tug her toward my bed.

She groans behind me. “Why did Marcus send you to me? I’m failing at whatever test this is.”

I give her a wicked look over my shoulder. “I think he thought I could learn a few things.”

“I guarantee you he didn’t mean this.” She grabs me from behind, her hands sliding under my shirt, and just like that, the temperature in the room spikes hard.

Nobody’s touch has ever inflamed me like this. I spin around, reaching for her shirt as she pushes me onto the bed.

“We shouldn’t get carried away,” she says as she presses my hands over my head.

“Of course.” I hook my legs around hers and haul her down on top of me. “Kiss me again before I scream.”

Her mouth covers mine with a happy hum, and I close my eyes again, sinking into the sensation. Her tongue is magic as it coaxes mine to play.

Kissing Kaden was never like this.

That has to be the last thought you have of your ex, Angel B says. Excellent advice, angel. I strain against her hands, still pinning my wrists to the bed, and she releases me.

I twist our bodies so we tumble to the side. I want to touch her and see her and be touched and seen, all at the same time.

“When you said we should get carried away,” I murmur into the soft crook of her neck. “Were you thinking… only one orgasm each? Two?”

“I was thinking a goodnight kiss before I tucked you into bed and went back to my own room.” She slides her hand into my hair. “But that seems stupid after your idea.”

I laugh and lean into her as I sneak my hand up her shirt again. “Touch me, Astrid. Please. I want you to. I want you so much…”

She presses her forehead against mine, her face blurry it’s so close. But her next question, a single word, is crystal clear. “Why?”

I swallow hard. “Because…because…I don’t know. Because I can’t help this crazy feeling inside that I need to know what you taste like.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I’ve done this before,” I whisper. “Well, not this. But when I was young, I fooled around with a friend. And I liked it. I’m not confused.”

“You don’t feel confused,” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss me. “I just don’t want this to be messy in the morning.”

“It won’t be.” My entire body shakes with relief as I take her hand and slide it, inch by inch, down my body, until her fingertips meet my bare thigh. “When I was a summer camp counselor, there were always hook-ups at the end of the summer. That’s what this is. Just the end of the gig, blowing-off-steam kind of thing. Because you’re gorgeous, Astrid. And I really want to have sex with you.”

I hold her hand against my skin as she searches my face, and my obvious lust must have won out, because she leans in and kisses me again. We both gasp as her fingers change direction, moving up an inch to worry the edge of the thin fabric.

My skin feels hot and tight under her touch, and I spread my legs farther apart, encouraging her fingers to dip over the taut tendon at the top of my thigh onto the softer pad of flesh on the inside curve.

“That feels so good,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat. I want to memorize the cool press of her fingertips at the juncture of my hip and leg. Four magical points connecting us. Six, if I count my legs around hers, and yeah, I do. I’ll count everything she gives me.

I press my palm against her cheek, and she turns to kiss it. “Mmm. I like that, too. Do it again.”

She grins against my hand, then parts her lips and traces a half circle on my palm with the tip of her tongue. I groan and wiggle my hips at her, reminding her of what I want more than anything.

“You want me to touch you?” Her words scorch me from the inside out.

“Please,” I whisper. I dart my gaze back and forth between her face and her right hand as it slides under the edge of my shorts. The look on her face when she realizes that I’m not wearing any underwear is a gift in itself. Her eyes get really wide, like she’s just found a stash of Halloween candy. Or a twenty-dollar bill in a pocket after doing laundry, although that maybe doesn’t excite her in the same way it does me.

Her fingers glide over my sensitive pussy, first over my swollen lips, then just inside, where she finds me wet and slick and eager for more touching. I squirm and spread my legs.

“You’re so wet,” she breathes. “You feel amazing. Do you like fingers inside?”

“I love fingers. Anywhere you want to put them.” And I mean that. I’m going to be shameless with her. She could do anything to me.

“More than one?”

“All of them if you want. Is it too soon to beg?” I’m panting, and my pelvis seemed to have a mind of its own, trying to make firmer contact with her hand.

“Oh sweetie, I think I’m the one who’s going to be reduced to begging soon. Can I take your shorts off?”

Together we push the fabric down my legs. I kick the scrap to the floor as she rolls me onto my back. She hovers over me for a moment, then surges, pressing me back against the pillows, and her mouth is on my neck, her thigh between my legs and her hands are everywhere, cupping my breasts, squeezing my hips, and then again between my legs.

Sure, confident fingers. One, then two, thrusting into me and stretching me wide at the same time. Oh, holy hell.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me. Fuck. Me.”

She groans into my neck as she grinds against my thigh. “That’s the plan. You’re so pretty. And so tight.”

I bit my lip and nodded, whimpering. “You need to be…naked, too.”

She curls her fingers inside, finding a point that makes me see stars, and I arch my back, pressing my clit into the palm of her hand. “Soon. First I want you to squeeze me tight.” She rocks against me and lowers her voice. “I want to feel your pussy come hard for me, okay?”

Okay? How could that not be okay? I ride her hand as she fucks another finger into me, three fingers stretching me wide now, and her thumb finds my clit.

That pushes me the final step toward ecstasy. I suck in a breath and squeeze my thighs hard around her hand, holding it deep inside me as pleasure consumes me in a dark, gorgeous drape of pure feeling.

As I ease out of the fog, I realize I’ve wrapped my arms around her neck, holding her face to my neck. I laugh, hesitantly at first, then with abandon.

“Oh my god.” I ease my grip. “Wow.”

She tilts her head up, eyes bright, and I think I’m definitely going to die of happiness as she lifts her fingers to her mouth and sucks the taste of me off them.

Unconsciously, I lick my lips, too. As her eyes drift to my mouth, I trace my hands lightly up her torso. She shivers as I caress the side curve of her breasts and again when my fingers trail on her neck. Lifting my head enough to make contact, I bump my nose against hers, then brush our lips together.

It’s not like our earlier kisses. It’s tentative, sweet, and unbearably hot. Well, that’s the same. Fuck, I’ve been kissing completely the wrong way my entire life. It could have been like this?

And oh god, but she tastes like me. It’s new and exciting and almost foreign on her lips, on her skin under my nose. Being pushed into my mouth with her tongue. That makes me wet and achy all over again, and I’ve already gotten my orgasm.

Now it’s her turn.