“Why is that good news,” she asked.
“Because I’ve told Lloyd this is the last straw. I’m going to be a full-time mom now. And it’s good news because I have a wonderful friend who will give me the perfect excuse to get the hell out of this place whenever I want.” She bundled Rhianna into a full-scale cuddle and said, “But wait. There’s more. It’s
fantastic
news because if anyone deserves to have the love of her life walk in the door when she least expects it, that woman is you.”
Rhianna could feel her cheeks heating to lobster red as Bonnie sashayed away. “The love of my life?” she murmured.
Jules slipped an arm around her waist and said, “I like the sound of that.”
*
At some point in the afternoon, Rhianna had rolled onto her back, and she now slept with the abandon of a child, arms flung away from her body, one foot dangling over the side of the bed. The fickle light of dusk gave contour to the sheet that swathed her, revealing the limber form beneath. With each breath she drew, the pale fabric floated over her breasts, then settled once more to resume its teasing contact with her nipples.
Her mouth was moist and carelessly parted. Her bed-hair had formed a disorderly clump on one side of her head. Jules had waited a long time to be fascinated by a sleeping woman. She could not wrest her gaze from the tiny pulse at Rhianna’s temple, the silky sheen of her eyelashes, the faint flutter of her lids. She stared, unfettered by convention or self-consciousness. She felt weak. Breathless. Frayed at the edges. She couldn’t think of any other time in her life when she had been so conscious of another woman, and so at home.
The knowledge shook her. How had she found her way here to this unfamiliar terrain? How long did it take to fall in love? When was it appropriate to announce the feeling? Jules’s feet carried her to the end of the bed and she idled there, prayerfully smitten. She recalled a similar moment—another day, another dusk—when she had stood transfixed in the presence of beauty. The priest had left her alone at the base of the pedestal, to offer thanks to the Virgin Mary for her grace and intercession. Jules alone had survived beneath the mountain of rubble. The reasons were a mystery she could only hope to solve by proving herself worthy of this divine blessing, and by following the Blessed Virgin’s selfless example.
She stared up at the statue and saw a beguiling woman stifled in a marble shroud, the embodiment of womanhood held prisoner by men’s fears. Jules did not think the mother of God had spared her so that she could emulate this captivity. Her promise to herself that day took some time to bear fruit, and Jules could see that for a long while she felt unworthy—survivor guilt, various shrinks had determined over the years.
Jules slid her hand beneath the sheet that veiled Rhianna. She could understand why a man like Werner Brigham would seek to place this woman on a pedestal, and build a shrine to her in his imagination. Like so many, he mistook his own needs for her purpose in life. He was completely blind to the person.
Warm skin claimed her attention and Jules began a leisurely exploration of the body she was still getting to know. It occurred to her that if there was a reason she had won life in the cosmic lottery of doom and disaster, perhaps it was simply that she had reached out for it. And here, years later, was the real prize.
Carefully, she lifted the sheet away. She bent and gathered her lover’s scent then stroked her fingertips along Rhianna’s inner thighs. Her right leg flopped open as if by reflex. There she was, pink and wet and waiting. Jules drifted closer until she could almost taste her.
Rhianna made a soft noise in her sleep, and wriggled a little. Her breathing changed and she gave the sheet a tug. When she met resistance, she mumbled something and woke up. Hazy-eyed, she stared at Jules. “Hello.”
“Good evening.”
“What are you doing?”
“I was just looking.” Jules sat down on the edge of the bed.
The fog of sleep cleared, and Rhianna’s eyes shone bright and inviting. “You were touching, too.” Her voice was suddenly full of sexy threat. “Were you trying to have sex with me while I was asleep.”
“Guilty as charged.” Jules grinned.
Rhianna took her own nipples between her fingers and examined them suspiciously. “You’ve been sucking these,” she declared with mock outrage. “What’s your defense?”
“Desperate cravings and an inability to suck on my own?” Jules suggested.
Laughing, Rhianna scrambled onto her knees and crawled over to her. “You don’t seem to appreciate the seriousness of the situation.”
“On the contrary.” Jules said. “I’ve never been more serious.”
“Do you seriously want to come back to bed with me?”
Jules turned so they were face to face. “More than that.” When Rhianna angled her head, she said. “Is it too soon to tell you I love you?”
Rhianna leaned forward until their foreheads rested together. “Better too soon than too late.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
They found their way into each other’s arms and cradled each other as the dusk succumbed to darkness.
After a while, Rhianna said, “I love you. And now that I have my body back, I want to give it to you.”
Jules kissed her slowly and sweetly. “Now?”
“Always,” Rhianna promised.