At the Water's Edge (15 page)

She’s been seeing the same images in her mind, I can tell.

“I want to feel you,” I hiss, my hand traveling down toward her panties, but she beats me to it, yanking down her knickers while my body breathes heavily on top of her.

I give her space to take off her underpants and get rid of my own in the process. Looking at her, completely naked in my bed, gives me pause. Because as much as it is frenzy and lust and two bodies bursting with desire, it’s so much more than that. It’s love. Or, at least, the beginning of it. It’s more than falling in love, more than hormones going bonkers in my blood, more than the crazy pull of chemistry bringing us together. Because, despite only just really getting to know each other, Kay already knows me better than anyone. It intensifies the rapid beat of blood in my veins, the quick pulse of my heart vibrating throughout my body, the electricity on my skin.

For all the times I believed I was making love, to Thalia and every other woman that came before her, I know now that I was wrong. Any lingering trace of doubt in my mind about giving in to this, about being with Kay interfering with my healing process, evaporates at the sight of her beneath me. Because it’s not just her body in front of me, waiting with bated breath, it’s all of her and all of me, about to be joined together. For the first time since I woke up in the hospital, I actually feel, all the way into my bones, that I’m happy to be alive.

Tears sting behind my eyes, but I ignore them, because, for once, they’re the right kind of tears. I lift myself off her and extend my hand to Kay. She grabs it, pulling herself up. We sit on our knees facing each other again, a calmness clinging to the anticipation of what is about to transpire. I slide my knees apart and pull her toward me. From the movement of the sheets below me, I deduct she’s doing the same. Both of us kneeling, open, ready, spread wide for each other.

My breath picks up speed when we kiss again, when our rock hard nipples bounce off each other, my arms pulling her as close as I can. My right hand wanders down, as does hers, meeting in the small space we left between our bellies. Our mouths stay connected, like our souls now, while our hands drift apart: mine between her legs, hers between mine.

The double sensation of feeling Kay there for the first time and her touching me where I haven’t been touched in a long time, nearly floors me. I have to hold on to her for support, lifting my body a little higher, my one elbow resting on her shoulder.

Her breath in my mouth, her flesh so close to mine I can feel the rhythm of her heart against my skin, her finger hovering over my pussy lips. And then, stars colliding in my brain, a wave of pleasure rolling over me, as her finger circles my clit. Slowly at first, small, controlled circles through the wetness that has pooled there. And I do the same to her, only my finger slides along the length of her pussy. My breath catches in my throat at how wet she is for me. How ready.

How many days ago did I arrive at West Waters? Is that when the foreplay started? It doesn’t matter, because Kay’s finger becomes more insistent, and I try to follow her pace. I dip lower, brace my core, and let my finger slide inside of her. It cuts off my own breath because her arm pulls me closer, losing control of her hand in my hair, the fingers of her other hand zoning in on my swollen clit again.

It’s difficult to not give in to the pangs of pleasure tumbling down my stomach, the lightning in my blood, but I’m on a mission as well. My finger burrows deep inside of Kay. Our kiss has stalled. My mouth hangs open in front of Kay’s face, ragged puffs of breath pulsing out of me to the rhythm of my thrusts. I add another finger, trying to ignore how my own pleasure mounts, how my entire body thunders toward climax—but it’s been so long and this is too much. All this blood flowing freely in my veins. My heart beating so exuberantly, after I wanted to make it stop.

Kay’s finger is insistent, rubbing tiny circles around my clit, faster, creating a vibrating sensation, and I give up, because the orgasm takes me—months of release gushing out from between my legs, all the muscles in my body shaking, my mouth open wide, my eyes filled with tears. Involuntarily, my finger slips out of her as I collapse on top of her.

She cradles me in her arms while I catch my breath.
I didn’t used to be like this
, I think. I used to require a whole lot more than a finger rubbing along my clit to make me come, but I realize it’s not about what she did to me with her hands. It’s about how she made me feel. Alive. Safe. Understood.

I revive quickly with Kay’s arms around me and when I straighten my posture, I see she’s crying as well. Just a few tiny drops caught in the corner of her eyes, but tears nonetheless.

“Are you all right?” I ask, instinctively.

“Oh yes.” A grin breaks through the grave expression on her face. “I barely touched you. Was it one of those spiritual orgasms?”

I want to wave away her silly comment, but it hits me that it may just have been. Biology is my profession. I have extensive knowledge of the human body’s blood flow, its nerve endings, and the chemical and biological processes related to orgasm. Still, in my heart, I acknowledge there was more to this particular climax than the cause and effect of fingers on my clit in a highly aroused state. But I have neither time nor inclination to ponder this further. I have unfinished business.
 

“I guess my clit is rather fond of your fingers.” I chuckle at the silliness of my own comment.

“And my fingers want to touch a whole lot more of you.” Kay grins.

I tip my head and rest my eyes on her. “That may very well be, but they’re going to have to wait.” I put my hands on her shoulders and start lowering her onto the bed. I gaze down at her, into her sparkling, dark eyes, and I feel saved already. More of a functioning person than when I woke up earlier this morning.

I drape my body half onto hers, leaving enough room to let my fingers wander over her skin.

“Don’t tease me, Ella.” Kay’s voice is firm. “I need it now.”

Time to finish what I started. The exact opposite of what I fantasized about happens. Instead of Kay slowly bringing her fingers to my wet pussy lips, I’m the one slipping the tip of my finger along her folds while looking deep into her eyes. I hold my hand still for an instant, locking my gaze on hers again, and go deep with two fingers. Her muscles stiffen underneath me, her eyes falling shut. Her moan is the most beautiful sound in the world. It’s still a little bit controlled, but frayed enough around the edges to distinguish it from any other sound in any other circumstance. It’s the sound of promise, of things to come.

I move slowly inside of her, feeling the velvety inside of her pussy. The hotness seems to shoot straight through my fingers, making my clit throb again.

I give my fingers more purpose, more thrusting than feeling, fucking her—fucking Kay Brody. Underneath me, the sight is magical. Kay’s head tossed back into the pillows, her breasts moving to the rhythm of my strokes, her skin glistening in the morning light, her pelvis bucking upward. The sight of ecstasy. To think I would have missed this had my attempt not failed.

While upping my pace and starting to brush my thumb over her clit at slow intervals, I close my lips around her nipple. I’m as close to her as I can be. Inside of her, on top of her, my lips on her—her body surrendering to me. I inhale the scent of her skin, of that body that has been glued to mine for two nights in a row.

“Oh god,” Kay moans, her breath stuttering in between the sounds she utters. She’s close, I can feel it in the contractions of her muscles, the tautness of her skin, so I clamp down on her nipple harder, increase the depth of my strokes and let my thumb hover over her clit, allowing her to choose the amount of pressure applied.

Kay’s nails delve deep into my flesh, possibly breaking skin—a mark I’ll proudly carry—while the back of her head disappears further into the pillow, exposing her neck. Then her body relaxes, her limbs falling to her side. Her eyes are still closed as I kiss her neck, her chin, her slightly parted lips.

“I won’t be able to speak for a few minutes,” Kay huffs. She opens her arms wide and I nestle against her shoulder, listening to the wild pitter-patter of her heart. We lie in complete, blissful silence for a while.

Out of nowhere, a loud banging on the cabin door startles us.

“What the—” Kay’s body goes rigid, toppling me off her.

I check the alarm clock. It’s not even six in the morning. Did I switch my phone off? Did something happen to Mom or Dad? In a panic, I scramble for clothes, quickly throwing on the t-shirt I slept in and hoping it’s long enough to cover me while I answer the door.

“Maybe it’s for me,” Kay hollers behind me.

I unlock the front door, peeking my head through the crack, trying to hide most of my body. I have to blink twice before I recognize the person standing in front of me, before it registers.

“Hope I didn’t wake you, Sis,” Nina says, an undecipherable smile on her face.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Kay? Is that you?” Nina’s accent sounds different. She looks healthy, lean but in a wiry, sinewy way. Her skin has tanned to a deep cinnamon color. Her bleached hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. For someone who, most likely, just got off a flight from the other end of the world, she looks surprisingly well put together.

Behind me, Kay grumbles something. I’m still too flabbergasted to move, and painfully aware of not wearing any underwear.

“Were you two…?” Nina’s face breaks out into a wide, knowing smile. “What the hell, Ellie? I know we’re not the kind, but give your big sister a hug, will you?” She steps forward, arms wide.

I make my way from behind the door, pulling the t-shirt down as best I can, but it barely covers my behind. It doesn’t matter though, because when Nina wraps her arms around me and holds me close—when it sinks in that my sister whom I haven’t seen in the flesh for years, is here—I relax and let the tears come.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, while wetting her top with my tears.

“Do you have to ask? What on earth have you done, Ellie? I was so worried about you.”

Any other person would have sent an e-mail to announce her arrival, but not my sister. Being like everyone else was never high on Nina Goodman’s wish list. “I wasn’t expecting you to come here.”

We break from our hug. Nina eyes my skimpy attire. “Well, I’m here anyway. Why don’t you put some clothes on to celebrate?”

While I rush to the bedroom to find a pair of shorts, the smell of sex penetrating my nostrils, I hear muffled voices from the living room.

“Last I heard you were shacked up with Jeff Mitchum.” I hear Nina say when I re-enter the living room.

“That was a long time ago, Nina.” Kay is not easily fazed, though, and Nina’s sudden arrival doesn’t throw her as much as it does me.

“Swinging both ways, huh? Good for you.” Nina practically thumps Kay in the biceps. I can tell she hasn’t changed much. Apart from the blood flowing in our veins, we never had that much in common.

“I’d best leave you girls to it.” Kay finds my eyes and I give her a nod. When she heads to the bedroom I follow her in there briefly.

“I can’t believe it.”

“That’s Nina Goodman for you.” Kay scans the room for the clothes she was wearing yesterday. “Go be with your sister, Ella.”

I step closer to her and fold my arms around her waist. “Sorry about the interruption.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be around later.” She plants a chaste kiss on the top of my head and frees herself from my embrace.

I shoot her one last longing glance before rejoining my sister in the living room. Kay stumbles out not long after me.

“See you later, Goodmans,” she says, before closing the front door behind her.

“Coffee?” I eye Nina. The shock is starting to subside.
 

Nina nods. “Fuck, Ellie. Why did you do it?” Nina is always best at asking the questions everyone else is trying to avoid. Yet another reason why she couldn’t stay.

“You can’t just turn up here out of the blue and ask me that.” I lean against the kitchen counter, not making any moves toward brewing coffee.

“I came all this way. Sixteen hours folded into an economy class seat. Excuse me if I can’t find my manners and tact. It must be jet lag.”

“Nina.” I use the same tone I used to scold her with as a child—and I was the younger sister.

“Damn, Ellie. I don’t know what to say.” She shakes her head. “But I sure am bloody glad to see you.” Did she always swear like that?

“Do you want to take a shower? Freshen up?” I offer.

“You and Brody, huh? How long’s that been going on?”

As happy as I am to see my sister, somehow, it’s so incredibly like her to pick a time like this to arrive, and ruin a very special moment. “Not long.”

“First time?” She arches up her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes.” I inch closer toward her. “You know where the bathroom is. Get cleaned up. I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re done. Then we can talk.”

“Still bossing your big sister around, Ellie? You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you.” I watch her saunter off to the bathroom, waiting until she’s closed the door behind her to collapse in a chair.

The memory of Kay’s hands on me is still so fresh in my mind, it’s hard to focus on the fact that Nina just walked into the cabin. For someone who used to pride herself on bouts of ultra-efficient multi-tasking, my mind goes into melt-down mode too easily. Perhaps also because Nina definitely has the Goodman stubbornness, but as far as non-conversations go—especially the kind my mother, father, and I excel at—Nina is not like the rest of us. And spending years away, doing god-knows-what who-knows-where, hasn’t sharpened her sense of tact, so it seems. She will ask the hard questions, and she won’t wait for an answer.

I get up to wash my hands before making toast and laying out some condiments on the table on the deck. I wish Kay were still here, but I also know that, once again, this is something I have to face alone.

When Nina reemerges, smelling of soap and wearing a fresh set of clothes, out of the blue, she hugs me again. Perhaps she
has
changed. It’s hard to take stock when most of my memories of her were made before I left Northville myself.