96 Hours (25 page)

They continued to sit at the bar, long after they’d put a stop to the coffee refills, watching as patrons left one by one, until only a handful were left. Finally, Abby reluctantly glanced at her watch and sighed.

“Wow. It’s getting late. I should probably get going.” Her voice betrayed her; the last thing she sounded like was that she wanted to get going.

Erica kept her eyes on her empty coffee cup and nibbled on her lip for several seconds before working up the nerve to speak. “Abby?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you—” She cleared her throat, then forced herself to look up, to look Abby directly in those big, beautiful blue eyes. “Would you be interested in coming up to my room with me?”

Chapter 19

Neither spoke during the elevator ride up, but Erica and Abby stood very close together against the back wall. When the doors slid open, Erica led and Abby followed, still no words, nothing but absolute certainty.

Abby hadn’t felt as solid in four weeks as she did right now and she had no idea how to explain it. It had never occurred to her that she might have feelings for Erica, feelings other than carnal ones—thinking about that now, she felt a little stupid, a little childish. How could it not cross her mind? All the signs were there. In general, when she slept with somebody with no intention of anything more, that person was fairly easily forgotten soon after the encounter. Certainly within a month. But not Erica. Abby couldn’t get Erica out of her head no matter how hard she tried. How could she not even consider that maybe there was something deeper going on?

Probably because something deeper than sex was pretty much a foreign concept to her.

For her part, Erica was a bit further along in her self-analysis, but not a lot less surprised by the turn of events. She knew she had feelings for Abby; she’d known it when they’d parted in the airport four weeks ago. There was no certainty about how they’d developed, especially given that Abby was nothing like the women she was usually drawn to, but there was a certainty that Abby did not feel the same way and so Erica had dealt with this matter of the heart privately and alone, assuming they’d pass eventually as long as she kept busy doing something satisfying. So she had, and it seemed like it had been working—until today. She’d seen Abby and it was as if four weeks had disappeared. Now, all she wanted was to feel the way she’d felt in the MacDougals’ basement a month earlier. She had no intention of spilling her guts about emotions and feelings. She simply wanted to be in Abby’s arms again, to let the world fall away for one night, to spend a few hours in a place where she felt safe and warm and like she could be herself.

Erica’s hotel room was warm. She dropped her key card on the dresser, kicked off her shoes, and drew the sheers across the window, obscuring the room to watchful eyes, but allowing the lights of New York City to be seen. Not for the first time, she was grateful the hotel faced a direction that would not emphasize the gaping hole in the skyline left by the towers.

Abby came up behind her, the warm length of her body pressing along Erica’s back, her lean arms wrapping around Erica’s torso. She remembered then how well they fit together, snugly, like two pieces of a puzzle. Erica crossed her arms over Abby’s at her stomach and they stood looking out the window, completely content in each other’s presence.

After long moments, Abby spoke. “You’re different,” she said quietly.

“I know. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I think that’s a trick question,” Abby said and she felt Erica’s quiet laughter against her. “It just feels like you’re more you.”

Erica turned in Abby’s arms and looked up into her face, confused. “What do you mean?”

Choosing her words carefully was important right now, Abby knew. The last time she’d tried to describe Erica’s change in demeanor, it had stung her, even though that hadn’t been Abby’s intention. “I feel like this is the real you and you’re not trying to play some part; you’re not worried about image or perception. You seem comfortable in your own skin and I don’t think you were in Gander.” She rolled her lips in and bit down on them, waiting for Erica’s reaction.

To Abby’s surprise, Erica said simply, “You’re right. You’re different, too, you know.”

“I know, and I never even realized it until today. What an idiot I am.”

“Nah,” Erica said. “You just didn’t have somebody to point it out until today.”

“Hmm. I like your explanation better.” Abby kissed Erica, softly, with tenderness, taking her time, absorbing the feelings of warmth, comfort, and the underlying promise of passion. When she pulled back, the two of them held each other’s gaze.

After a moment, Erica said quietly, “I’m glad you’re here,” and stroked a finger down the side of Abby’s face.

“So am I.”

Their lips met again, but they were in no hurry. Abby unzipped Erica’s sweater, pushed it off her shoulders, and stood in reverence at the sight before her. Erica’s black bra and camisole, black slacks, and bare feet stole the air from Abby’s lungs and she held her at arm’s length.

“Just let me look at you for a minute,” she whispered as she took in the sight. Erica was gorgeous.

A few short moments passed before Erica said, “My turn,” and set to work on the silver buttons of Abby’s blouse.

Down to bras and underwear, they stumbled to the bed and fell across it, lips fused together, hands grasping, sliding, exploring. They took their time, wanting to learn and see and touch everything and every part of each other. Abby gently slipped one strap off Erica’s shoulder, then the other, tugging the fabric down to reveal breasts even more beautiful than she remembered. Erica’s skin was still as soft and still as smooth as it had been a month earlier, and Abby sighed with great contentment as she tasted a shoulder, licked a collarbone, sucked in a nipple. Positioning herself above Erica, with one thigh between Erica’s legs, Abby settled in. She lavished attention on one breast, then on the other, moving back and forth between them slowly and easily, like she had all the time in the world. Every so often, she’d push against Erica’s center with her thigh, basking in the subtle intake of breath that came as a result, loving the wet heat she could feel even through the fabric of Erica’s panties.

Erica thought she might explode from the wanting. She couldn’t recall a time when her body had been so alive, so aflame, simply from Abby’s hot mouth on her breasts, bathing her skin and erotically torturing each nipple, gently with her lips and tongue, a bit more roughly with her teeth. None of her past lovers had ever taken such time with, such pleasure in, her body. It was pushing Erica’s arousal to unfamiliar heights and seemed to go on and on, simultaneously sensual and agonizingly teasing, until she finally reached her breaking point and did something she’d never done in bed before.

With anybody.

Ever.

She begged.

“Please? Abby? Please?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

Abby didn’t look up, continued what she was doing, switching mouth for fingers as she remarked, “You have the most amazing breasts I have ever seen.”

“Abby,” Erica whimpered. “You’re killing me here. Please?”

“Seriously. They’re the perfect size, not too big, not too small. And your skin is so soft. And your nipples—” She squeezed one between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching a groan from Erica’s throat. “They’re just—”

Erica grabbed a handful of Abby’s hair and forced her head up as she lifted her own, so they were eye to eye before she growled, “Abby,” through clenched teeth.

A devilish grin crossed Abby’s face as she quickly slid her hand down the front of Erica’s panties, through the coarse hair and into the slick heat waiting for her there.

Erica dropped her head back onto the bed as a primal groan bubbled up from her chest. “Oh, yes,” she breathed, easing her grip on Abby’s hair, but not letting go. “Oh, Abby. Thank you.”

“Um, no. Thank
you
.”

As with the first time they’d been together, Abby suddenly found herself wanting to slow down, wanting to transform seconds into minutes, minutes into hours, wanting never to leave the warmth of the bed she was in or the feel of the woman beneath her. Only this time, she understood what it meant. She understood that this was more than just sex, that Erica was more than just another woman she’d bedded, and this time when they kissed, Abby tried to telegraph those thoughts to Erica, tried to tell her that this was an important moment, that she was beginning to understand. She slowed the pace of her fingers, knowing Erica wasn’t going to last much longer but hoping to milk the moment for all she could. She kissed Erica passionately, but with a tenderness she usually avoided. Shifting her body forced Erica to spread her legs more fully and Abby tucked her hips between them, the added pressure from her pelvis against her hand pulling more erotic sounds from Erica’s throat. Abby rocked gently but insistently, feeling blissful pleasure as Erica’s heel dug into the back of her thigh, as Erica’s hips pushed up to meet Abby’s hand. She knew Erica was dangerously close to the edge and was on a direct path to take her over when she was abruptly hit with the inexplicable desire for eye contact. A flash of memory zapped her then, Erica’s voice from four weeks ago echoing in Abby’s head.

“Keep your eyes open. Look at me.”

And in that moment, like a light switch had been turned on in a previously dark room, she got it. It was clear. Abby now understood what Erica had been saying then. Unlike the last time they were together, this meeting of bodies was more than the simple act of sex. The last time, it was about feeling life, feeling desire,
feeling
anything. This time, it was about them, about being together, about understanding—or at least beginning to understand—that there was something deeper between them. Something stronger. Something unnerving. And at that moment, the most important thing in the world to Abby was that Erica know who was with her, who was driving her pleasure—not who was fucking her but who was
making love
to her.

“Erica.”

Erica’s head was thrown back on the pillow, eyes closed, one hand pushing against the headboard, completely absorbed in what her body was feeling.

Abby slowed her rhythm to a near stop. “Erica.”

Erica whimpered a protest, blinked rapidly, and focused on Abby, who looked at her tenderly and whispered, “Look at me. Keep your eyes open and look at me. Okay?”

Erica’s eyes welled as the words registered in her arousal-addled brain, and she laid her palm against Abby’s cheek, rubbed her thumb over Abby’s bottom lip, and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

They kissed then. Sweetly. Lovingly. And Abby began moving again while Erica looked in her eyes. A slow, easy rocking, a slow, easy stroking, Abby’s gaze riveted on Erica’s as they held tightly to each other, both painfully aware that something important had passed between them.

They moved in tandem, crested together, and fell over the edge as one.

Hours later, Abby lay in an exhausted heap on the twisted sheets, sweating, breathless, and feeling like a Gumby doll with limbs of rubber. She lifted her arm from over her eyes and watched Erica walk across the room from the bathroom, carrying a glass of water, in all her naked glory. Abby stopped her with an upheld hand, like a traffic cop.

“Wait.”

Erica halted and looked around. “What? What’s the matter?”

“Just stand there for a second.”

Erica rolled her eyes and continued on her path. “Here. Drink this before you dehydrate.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“So are you.”

Abby gulped down half the glass as Erica crawled into bed beside her, offered the remaining water to Erica who polished it off. They rearranged the covers, rearranged their bodies, and settled into a comfortable cocoon made up of each other. It would be a while—an hour or two—before the sun began to crest over the horizon, and they lay together, wrapped in each other, facing the window, Erica’s head tucked under Abby’s chin. Erica yawned and Abby kissed her forehead.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted. You wiped me out.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. I can barely feel my legs.”

Erica reached down to Abby’s calf and stroked her fingertips up the inside of her leg, feather-lightly, until she hit the apex between Abby’s thighs and made her jump. “Legs are still there,” she informed her.

“Good to know.” Abby tightened her arm around Erica’s shoulders.

They lay in the quiet, warm and sated, for long moments. Erica had just begun to doze when Abby spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Erica?”

“Hmm?”

“What happens now?”

There were many ways to interpret that question, many inferences Erica could make about what
exactly
Abby was asking her. Instead of assuming—which is what she’d done a month ago and what had gotten her painfully slapped down—she decided to play dumb.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Abby shifted slightly beneath her and cleared her throat. “I mean, what do we do next?”

“Hmm.”