A Matter of Trust (26 page)

Sloan watched with just a tinge of envy as Jasmine and Sarah danced. The beat was heavy and fast, an undercurrent of pulsation to match the barely contained sexuality seething through the couples pressed close on the dance floor. Jasmine and Sarah’s eyes were locked as their bodies met, melded, then parted—surging seductively to the evocative tempo. Sarah wore jeans and a tight cotton T-shirt, and anyone looking at them would’ve thought her to be the butch and Jasmine the sleek, sexy femme. Sloan smiled faintly to herself, thinking how often perceptions could be wrong. Thinking, too, that very often the truth could not be known, only experienced.

She continued her surveillance and finally spied Michael on the far side of the room, threading her way through the mass of people toward the door. It was difficult to tell in the dim, hazy light, but it looked as if she might have been crying.

“Excuse me,” she said abruptly to Claudia as she set her beer back on the bar. She shouldered away from the throng at the bar and made it to the exit only a minute behind Michael. Once outside on the sidewalk, she hurriedly looked up and down the street and saw her nearly half a block away.

“Michael!” she shouted, breaking into a run. She caught up quickly and stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Michael,” she said gently. Being so close brought an ache to her chest.
I’ve missed you so much.

Michael turned, quickly brushing the last of her tears from her cheeks. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Sloan answered, her throat dry. She peered into Michael’s face intently, noting the wounded expression she was struggling to hide. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Michael smiled ruefully. She wasn’t going to embarrass them both again. She had nearly begged her once, and that was enough. “I just had a bad moment there. It’s been a tough few days.”

“It’s been a tough few
weeks.”
Sloan gazed deep into Michael’s eyes. She didn’t notice the people stepping around them as they stood in the center of the sidewalk, bathed in the streetlight’s pale golden glow. All she could see was Michael. “But it’s been an amazing time, too.” She gently slipped her fingers down Michael’s arm and into her hand. “For me, at least.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, surprised by how hard it was to speak, and how hard it was to concentrate on Sloan’s words. She was mesmerized by the feel of her so near, the faint tantalizing smell of her, and the heat that poured from those fingertips as they lightly brushed her own. Gazing at Sloan’s lips, she imagined them on her skin. Remembering their kisses, she longed for more.

Sloan sensed Michael waiting for an answer, knowing that she owed her the truth. Until now, Michael had been the one to take all the chances. It was time to match her courage and take a risk for her.

“You
happened to me,” she whispered, stepping near, her lips a breath away. “You swept into my life and stole my heart.”

“Really?” Michael heard the words and wanted to believe her. Her body didn’t care—she was already aching for her. Taking a deep breath, she asked quietly, “What about Claudia?”

Claudia?
For a second, Sloan couldn’t understand the question. She was having a hard time thinking around the buzzing in her head. Michael was so close she could see her pupils flicker.

“That’s been over a long time, Michael,” she finally said, slipping both hands to Michael’s waist, shaking slightly as she surrendered to the truth. “There isn’t anyone but you.”

“What about tonight? In there?”

“I didn’t know she’d be here. We ran into each other outside—I just bought her a drink. There hasn’t been anyone else since the moment I saw you. I swear.” Lightly, she stroked Michael’s cheek. “I can’t think about anything except you. I’m
crazy
for you.”

“Is that why I haven’t heard from you all week?” Michael swayed slightly, leaning into Sloan’s body almost against her will.

“I—”
No excuses. Not with her. “
I wanted to call. I was...scared.”

“Sloan,” Michael murmured, her voice hushed with desire. “Oh, Sloan. Why?”

“Because of this.” Sloan did kiss her then, a long careful kiss—just their lips tenderly exploring, their bodies bending to one another but not quite touching. It was as if they both knew that any further contact meant they would forget exactly where they were.

“Way to go,” someone cheered as a small crowd of women shouldered past on their way to the club.

Sloan finally broke the kiss. Michael smiled up at her tremulously and said, “We seem to be making a spectacle of ourselves.” But she made no move to step away.

“Mmm,” Sloan agreed, thinking that she wanted to taste Michael’s lips again. Had anything ever been so sweet? “We should...talk.”

“You might invite me back to see the view from your loft,” Michael whispered, her fingers trailing along the edge of Sloan’s jaw. Sloan shuddered lightly, and Michael felt a lightning surge of desire. “Say yes. Hurry.”

“Oh God, yes,” Sloan grated, grasping Michael’s hand and pulling her toward her car.

“Sarah will wonder where I am,” Michael declared urgently, even as she hurried across the street to keep pace with Sloan.

“It’ll be all right,” Sloan replied, fumbling her keys out of her pocket. “She’ll be too busy tonight to worry.”

Michael didn’t answer; she simply slid into the seat, slid her hand along Sloan’s thigh, and leaned over to kiss her neck. “So will I.”

Fortunately, Chances was only a few short blocks from Sloan’s loft, and traffic was light. If she’d had to drive any farther, Sloan feared she would wreck the Porsche. Michael’s hand was like fire on her thigh. She slammed into the garage, hit the remote to close the double doors behind them, and keyed the sequence to bring the freight elevator down to the ground floor—all before she’d turned off the ignition. In a matter of seconds she vaulted around the front of the car and grabbed Michael’s hand.

“Come on. I’ve got a great view.”

Michael laughed, but when they reached the loft, she hesitated on the threshold, letting Sloan go ahead. Sloan turned back, a quizzical look on her face.

“What is it?” she asked softly. Michael looked uncertain and terribly vulnerable, and Sloan’s heart ached to see it. She wanted to reassure her, to kiss the fear from her eyes.

“What does this mean? Our being here tonight?” The words caught in Michael’s throat. It was hard to expose her heart again—the pain and loneliness of the last week with no word from Sloan lingered still. Searching Sloan’s face, she found tenderness there, and caring. She remembered Sloan’s gentle touch and knew that she wanted it again. But she had to know if she was alone in her desire. “If this is just...a night, I can’t. Because I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget you after this.”

Standing very still, Sloan struggled with the words she had never expected to say again. “It means...” She stopped, aware of lingering fears, hammering at her. Aware, too, that those fears were from a different time, and the betrayal another woman’s. Not Michael’s.

“It means I want you and I...need you. It means I’ll do anything I possibly can never to hurt you.” She swallowed, then took a step closer to the woman who had captured her heart. “It means I love you...more than I will ever be able to tell you.”

Michael smiled faintly, a shimmer of tears in her eyes. She closed the remaining space between them and threaded her arms around Sloan’s waist, nestling her head against her shoulder. “How is it you always know what to say?”

“I don’t...always.” Sloan stroked her hair and laughed a little unsteadily. “For some reason, being near you makes it easy to say the things I feel. Even when they scare me to death, I can’t stop them from coming out.” She kissed the top of Michael’s head, then reached gently to lift Michael’s chin in the palm of her hand, gazing deep into her clear blue eyes. “I love you, Michael Lassiter. So very much.”

“I love
you,
J. T. Sloan.” Michael smiled again, a full smile now that illuminated her features with hope and happiness. She brushed her lips across Sloan’s and echoed softly, “So very much.”

In the truth of one another’s arms, they had no need for words. Michael pressed close, caressing Sloan’s shoulders, her chest, her back. Their lips met as Sloan freed Michael’s blouse from the waistband of her skirt, running her hands over the soft bared skin. Her mouth on Michael’s, she raised her hands to Michael’s breasts, starved for the feel of her flesh.

In turn, Michael eased back enough to get her hands between their bodies and pulled at the buttons of Sloan’s fly. She stroked Sloan’s abdomen, running her fingers along the edges of the quivering muscles, desperately pushing at the tight jeans, trying to touch more of her. They twisted together, thrashing on twin hooks of desire, their kisses voracious, their hands greedy—hot, hungry, and wild.

Sloan pulled away first, her stomach knotted with a need so heavy she could barely stand. They were nearly naked in the middle of her living room, clothes in various stages of disarray. Her hands shook where they lay on Michael’s desire-dampened skin. “We should...slow down...”

Michael, face flushed, blue eyes cloudy with lust, moaned when Sloan’s lips left hers. “No,” she protested, sliding her fingers down the front of Sloan’s jeans.

“Michael,” Sloan gasped. Her knees buckled and she almost fell. “Michael, wait. Bedroom—now, or we’ll end up right here on the floor.”

“I don’t care.” Michael was on fire. The only thing she wanted was to feel Sloan, taste her—consume her until the famine of a lifetime was satisfied. And then she wanted to feel it all again. “I want you so much,” she implored. “Hurry.”

They half stumbled across the floor, still embracing, shedding the rest of their clothes as they went. At the edge of the bed, they toppled onto the covers in a tangle of arms and legs. They couldn’t seem to get close enough—tumbling over one another—claiming one another with lips and hands and desperate caresses until the air grew thick with the heat of their passion.

“I can’t stand it,” Michael moaned. “I want...more...all of you. Everything.”

She reached between Sloan’s thighs for what she craved and found her hard and wet. Stroking through the swollen tissues, she entered her deeply, then eased slowly out, tantalizing her with light touches and teasing caresses.

“Let me touch you,” Sloan protested, catching Michael’s wrist as she tried to roll onto her, wanting
her
more than she wanted to be pleasured. Michael stopped her, far stronger than Sloan had imagined.

“No,” she murmured, sliding inside again, reaching some place beyond the physical with her hands, her eyes, and her pure selfless desire. “No, I want you. I want
you.
Trust me, please.”

Sloan fell back, surrendering, giving her body and letting go, finally, of the pain. “Yes,” she whispered, the word ending in a small choked cry. Then Michael’s mouth—biting lightly—was at her throat, then moving lower—over her breasts, down the center of her abdomen, pressing into the soft skin at the base of her belly. Her hands found Michael’s hair, then her cheek, and she lifted her hips in silent offering. Breath still in her chest, she waited, blood poised to burn for the touch that would set her free.

Awestruck, Michael paused as Sloan arched and grew taut on the precipice of exploding. Eyes closed, heart full, she told Sloan with each tender touch of her lips how very much she loved her. And when Sloan grew full and hard in her mouth, the bands of her restraint breaking with a deep groan, Michael continued to glory in her until all that existed in that room was the perfect harmony of their blood, and their breath, and the beat of their hearts.

*

Sloan awoke in darkness, streetlights casting pale flickering shadows over the bed. Michael’s head lay on her shoulder, and the soft weight of Michael’s breast filled her palm. Even in the faint light, Michael’s hair shone golden against her luminescent skin, giving her the look of a sleeping angel. Sloan ran her fingers through the silken strands, thinking about miracles and second chances. She realized that even in the first blush of infatuation with Elise she had never felt so connected, or so damn lucky. Maybe the lesson was that it took losing to understand what it meant to win. She sighed without knowing it, pulling her lover closer.

Michael lay quietly, listening to the comforting, steady rhythm of Sloan’s heart, basking in the tender attention of Sloan’s caresses. When she heard Sloan sigh a second time, she asked, “What’s bothering you?”

“Did I wake you?” Sloan murmured, kissing the tip of her ear.

“No.” Michael snuggled a little closer, one hand resting lightly against Sloan’s abdomen. She smiled when the muscles jumped at her touch. “And don’t change the subject.”

“I was just thinking,” Sloan replied, her voice still tinged with regret, “that I almost didn’t let this happen. I was too stubborn to see that what I thought was love years ago never was at all.”

“Don’t torment yourself.” Michael shifted until she lay on Sloan’s welcoming body, raising up on her elbows and gazing into her lover’s face. “You were young and you were innocent, and there’s no blame in that. We’re here together now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I love you,” Sloan whispered, liking the sound of it.

“That works out well, then,” Michael responded as she brought her lips close to Sloan’s. “Because I love you, too.”