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Libby stepped a little closer until her toes hit the tip of Reagan’s shoe. “Pottery classes don’t keep the lights on and the ovens roaring?”
“I’ve never seen anyone have so much love and passion for a building,” Libby replied, her skin buzzing from the bourbon and Reagan’s contagious energy.
Staring at her lips, Libby wanted to say something, but she couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. Her body was buzzing like a neon sign while feeling adrift and disconnected from it at the same time.
Her trance shattered when Reagan cleared her throat and stepped back. “Maybe too much of a good thing.” She rattled the chunk of ice in her empty glass. “Shall we eat some of that delicious food you made?”
The weight of her embarrassment was crushing. Her chest caved as she curled forward while reaching for the sliding glass door. It was as if her true form was a hedgehog and all she wanted to do was roll into a spiky ball to protect herself from the onslaught of emotions.
When she’d lowered her core temperature from nuclear meltdown levels, she looked at herself in the mirror. Makeup running and the tips of her no-longer-straight hair dripping water, her pale bra soaked and clinging to her modest chest. The mess, as jarring as it was, couldn’t distract her from the inexplicable truth. I wanted to kiss her. Libby pressed her palm to her twisting stomach. I want to kiss her.
“I mean people are just really energy, right? We both carry masculine and feminine. The more I think about it, the more I feel like gender is an artificial construct in some ways. I’m attracted to her energy, you know?” As Libby listened to herself, she realized she wasn’t lying.
Abruptly exhilarated, Libby cackled. “Wait until you meet her in person. She has this way of looking at people.” The memory of Reagan’s piercing eyes triggered her racing pulse. “It’s like you’re the only person on earth.”
Zena squeezed Libby’s forearm. “Damn, Eli. You have it bad! I’ve never seen you get all doe-eyed like that before.” Heat rushed over Libby’s cheeks. “I can honestly say I’ve never been in this position before.”
As soon as they parted, Libby regretted having lied about Reagan being out of town. Zena wouldn’t be back in Miami for a while, and after talking all night, she realized she wanted her to meet Reagan.
She couldn’t tell how long she’d had such fluid opinions on gender and sexuality. It wasn’t something she’d ever given too much thought to before, but as she talked, she realized she didn’t really see Reagan as anything other than Reagan. The idea was at once freeing and terrifying.
currently used. Libby listened dutifully as Reagan explained all the preparation required even though she didn’t understand anything she said and had no intention of replicating her work. She didn’t consider skipping forward as she drowned in the sound of her voice. Once Reagan sat at the wheel, Libby rolled onto her stomach and propped her head on one arm and the phone on the pillow. Jesus. Not only was Zena right, she may have undersold the unexpectedly erotic nature of the image. Reagan’s biceps bulged as she lifted a mass of clay over her head and slammed it down on the wheel. Within
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Libby licked her lips. All of a sudden there was too much saliva in her mouth, too much heat in the room. She kicked off the covers and returned to laying on her back with the phone inches from her face. When Reagan sat back with obvious pride at having completed the first task and created a shape that didn’t fly off the wheel as it spun, Libby smiled too. Her body wasn’t ready for the second attack. After a cut in the film, the camera lens was set much closer to get a better view of Reagan’s hands as she worked. Shit. The ache that started low in her belly was unmistakable and left her
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powerful fingers, Libby imagined that her body was the clay. If she focused hard enough, she could feel Reagan’s body on top of her, her bicep bulging next to her head as she held herself up with one hand and slipped into Libby with the other. Libby slammed the phone down before her hand slipped to where she was in desperate need of a little pressure. “What the hell am I doing?”
Staring down at her phone, Libby was doing everything in her power to distract herself. With the exception of breakfast with Zena and Ari, every waking moment had been spent keeping thoughts of Reagan’s sweaty body out of her head. Results were mixed.
Through the tears obscuring her vision, Libby read a slew of accusations. Understanding the bits and pieces her brain allowed her to absorb, the author was accusing her of not really caring about the LGBT community. She called her a fake dyke du jour, no better than sad Hollywood has-beens playing gay for attention. According to the article, her latest cattle calls seeking diverse hopefuls were nothing but empty pandering.
Libby tried to speak, but all she could do was cry until her jaw hurt. It was the strangest reaction she’d ever had to anything and she couldn’t control it. She hadn’t even cried like that when Davis dumped her.
Libby snuffled and chuckled at the same time before burying her head in the nape of Reagan’s neck. “I’m so selfish. Even in my own demise, I would take a few thousand people with me,” she wailed before starting to cry again.
“Do you want my advice?” “I think that’s kind of obvious since you’re the first person I called,” she joked before blowing her nose with toilet paper. “The only person I called.” At the sight of Libby’s smile breaking through swollen lips, Reagan’s stomach unclenched. “I’m glad you did because I don’t feel exploited in the least.”
Reagan chuckled and pulled Libby into her arms, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume. “I don’t want out,” she confessed, her heart hammering uncontrollably in her chest. “I want the opposite of out, and I’m kind of shocked you don’t see that. Actually . . .” she leaned back to get a good look at her eyes, a dazzling green compared to how red the whites were. Jumping off a cliff without a failsafe, Reagan confessed what had taken her a little while to put together. “I like you. And it has nothing to do with pretending for your job.” Libby’s eyes widened. “I. . .” Gathering her breath as if
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The vulnerability in Libby’s tone spurred her forward. Without thinking about it, Reagan cupped her face and gently tilted it toward her. “Emotions, no matter how unruly and unexpected, are never anything to apologize for. Not with me. You have every right to feel whatever you’re feeling. That doesn’t hurt anybody.”
As Libby worked herself up, Reagan couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through her chest. She wanted more than anything to lean in and kiss her. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Libby asked, her cheeks flushed with color.
Trying to retain a serious expression, but only half-succeeding, Reagan was pulled toward the scent of warm skin, expensive perfume, and clean linen. “I mean, I’d believe that I’m romantically interested in you,” she admitted with a pounding heart. “Would you?”
“What about your family?” Libby croaked just above a whisper. For a moment, Reagan had completely forgotten what they’d been discussing. “I think they’ll definitely believe we’re dating.”
“Okay, then. I guess we’re doing Thanksgiving.” Libby’s declaration vibrated with a mix of trepidation and delirious hope. “I better go and leave you to your. . .” She gestured at the bucket full of smashed clay lanterns. “Whatever this is.” “Or,” Reagan held her in her gaze, “I can collect on my winnings.”
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Tempted as she was, she couldn’t bring herself to use the silly bourbon wager to get what she really wanted. “A lesson on the pottery wheel,” she blurted.
“I don’t know. . .” Reagan said, pretending to give her appearance a great deal of thought as she set a bucket full of prepared clay in front of the wheel. “You look pretty cute to me. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever loaned a woman one of my aprons.” When Libby looked at her, her cheeks were flushed. “I guess I should be honored instead of complaining then.”
“No,” she admitted, rolling forward in her stool until their knees were touching. Her body ached at the minor contact and eviscerated any delusion she’d been harboring about her interest being platonic.
With a soft groan that rumbled deep in Libby’s throat, she parted her lips and deepened their kiss. The light incursion of Libby’s tongue grazing the tip of hers had an immediate, dizzying effect. There was nothing but teeth and lips and urgency. They were wanderers crawling out of the desert desperate for water as they reached an oasis. With a familiarity she had no right to feel, Reagan reached forward and gripped Libby’s thighs, sliding her roughly onto her lap. Instead of protesting, Libby moaned as she wrapped her legs around Reagan’s waist and grabbed fistfuls of her short hair.
Reagan released a breathy curse before deepening their kiss. Kissing her harder. It was the urgency of lovers reunited after being a world apart. This wasn’t the awkwardness of new lips finding each other for the first time, but like they’d kissed for lifetimes before finally being reunited.
When she was alone, all the desire and promise that had blossomed in her body was gone. Cold dread took its place. Refusing to let the doubt take hold, she took the clay she’d prepared for Libby and started throwing her feelings.
She’d acted like a horny teenager who’d escaped under the bleachers for the first time with her crush. Worse. Another wave of suffocating shame wrecked her. She’d been even worse than that because she was a thirty-two-year-old woman and hadn’t ever moaned and keened so dramatically while kissing anybody. Even in significantly more intimate moments, she’d never made so much noise.
At the thought, her body reacted with the same shattering desire that had spurred her on. Get a hold of yourself. She was probably so embarrassed for you she didn’t want to shove you off.
Every time she blinked, she was transported to Reagan’s lips. There was no denying that she’d never been kissed like that in her life. She’d definitely never slipped her tongue so far into anyone’s mouth. During the drive, Libby revisited Reagan’s lips, her arms, her scent, her hair. Each time she reminded herself that it wasn’t real, that she needed to shake it off and focus on saving her business. Her family’s legacy.
Each time she remembered a little less and fantasized a little more. She envisioned what might have happened if Freddie hadn’t forgotten his bag. Would Reagan have thrown her against a table and had her way with her? Would she? Lust turned to an aching hunger building between her thighs and compromising her nervous system, her muscles, her skin. It continued to build like an unstoppable flood of desire until she let herself imagine the full scene until the shuddering pinnacle. By the time she arrived at the office, she was breathless. Shit. What have I done?
It was a loaded question, and she didn’t have the words to respond. She couldn’t untangle all the competing emotions fighting for control of her head and her heart. Finding herself attracted to a woman for the first time in her thirties was disorienting enough. The added fact that they’d started as a fraud and her love-starved being was reacting to feigned interest put it over the edge.
Despite the little voice inside her head telling her not to, Libby jumped in her car and followed.
Wow she is really weak to this guy. Based on everything we have heard about him so far, her genuine feelings toward him are surprising.
As she closed in, Davis pulled his cell out of his pocket and moved closer to the blonde. The act stopped Libby dead in her tracks, not because she cared that he was getting the girl’s number, though it stung just a tiny bit, but because for a moment she’d thought he’d changed. Grown up. But he was the same selfish egotist who couldn’t be bothered to take care of her long enough to get her in the door.
Maybe I just do not understand because I have not been in her position before, but how could Libby honestly think he changed after all this?
When he was gone, Libby turned on her heels and walked away from the biggest mistake she almost made.
She should have known Davis’ words were just as worthless on paper as they were coming out of his mouth.
The lightness of seeing Davis for the loser he was, and realizing that she no longer felt a single thing for him, was gone. In its place was the backbreaking regret of what she’d done to Reagan out of her own stupid fear.
There is no perfect person for you. We are all mismatched in some way, and the best we can do is find someone whose broken edges align with ours.
Dropping back onto the bed, Libby opened her eyes. “I didn’t pick a woman to be salacious. I picked a woman because I thought I was protecting myself from the possibility of real attraction. Guess what? When we pretend long enough, it’s impossible to remember what’s an act and what’s real. The irony? I fell for her anyway.”
It was probably her cold that kept any serious conversations at bay. When Reagan showed up every afternoon, they kept it light until she left Libby tucked in bed and half-asleep from cold meds. Neither of them asked what was next for them.
She was safe in the muddy waters of Reagan’s company. It was enough. Or so she told herself.
Settling back with her eyes closed, Libby confronted a fact she’d never acknowledged about herself. She’d never once done anything that wasn’t from a place of fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of failing. Fear of disappointing her family. The realization punched the air out of her lungs. How could she go her entire life searching for enlightenment and self-improvement and never notice? Jumping to her feet, Libby didn’t take another second to think about it. She was going to do something dangerous and terrifying. For the first time she was going to do something in spite of her fear and not
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She so often saw too much of people’s potential and not what they were actually willing and able to deliver.
“Since the moment I met you, it was like reconnecting with someone I’d already known. Like we’d been inseparable friends in some past life.”
“You’re the first person I’ve truly wanted to know. I want to know everything about you. Every dream. Every nightmare. Every success. Every failure. And it’s not just that I never expected to feel like that about a woman, it’s that I never thought it was my lot in life to feel this at all. I think I convinced myself that to be truly great at finding love for others I’d have to settle for something mediocre myself. Something adequate that wouldn’t take my attention away from my work. And if not that, then . . . nothing at all.”
“Stop being afraid,” Reagan said as she swooped forward, cupping Libby’s face as she wiped the tear away with her thumb. “I’m not afraid. And nothing I feel for you is a lie,” she said before pressing Libby’s mouth to hers. Libby wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled her in like a drowning woman desperate for oxygen. Parting her lips, Libby overpowered her and took decisive control of the kiss.
