Perfect Pairing (18 page)

The little flutter in Quinn's stomach suggested she would actually like to dance with her a lot, and for once she didn't overthink the impulse. “I'd love to.”

She pushed off the wall and took the two steps needed to join Hal in the middle of her little kitchen. Tapping one foot forward, then the other, they began to move separately and tentatively together. They watched each other as their hips started to sway and shoulders rocked to the beat of the bass pumping through the speaker. Hal was good. Not surprisingly she moved as fluidly around the kitchen as she did while cooking, only now that razor sharp focus was on her.

“Show him where your bubble is,” Hal said, never losing the beat.

She pointed to a spot out in front of her, then did a slow turn into a full circle. “This is my space, Ian.”

He nodded.

“It moves with her,” Hal added. “Quinn owns that space. Let her show you what she can do with it.”

“What about me?”

“You do the same in your own space,” Quinn said, really moving to the beat now. “Like Hal, see how she doesn't just stare at me. She lets the music work through her. She shows me we're feeling the same things even though we're apart.”

Hal grinned and worked her body along with the rhythm of the music. Lifting her hands above her head, she moved back with a little shake, then bringing them down low again, she sidestepped her feet closer to the circle Quinn had drawn around herself.

A question arose in her darkening eyes. The spark there was both unmistakable and indescribable, and Quinn felt that flutter of excitement once more. This time when Hal shuffled her feet back a few steps, Quinn not only followed her, she came closer than Hal had dared to come on her own.

“Did you see that, Ian?” Hal asked.

“She put you in her bubble.”

“Exactly.” Her eyes never left Quinn as she said, “
That
is an invitation.”

“Great, now what?”

“Just enjoy the moment. Feel the heat of her, inhale the smoky scent of amber and honey.”

“Good nose, Chef,” she said, inordinately pleased Hal had used yet another one of her well-honed senses on her.

“Is it okay to talk while dancing?” Ian cut in.

“Sure, if you like a song, say so. If something strikes you as fun, go ahead and mention it. Compliment her occasionally, but keep it short and light.”

“And genuine,” Quinn added.

“For instance,” Hal said, “now might be a good time to tell Quinn she's every bit as good a dancer as I suspected.”

“And I would say, ‘it's easier to dance with such an adept partner.'” She brushed a hand across Hal's bicep, feeling the muscle contract at her touch.

“Hey,” Ian interjected, “was that another invitation?”

Hal looked to Quinn for the answer.

“Yes, it was.”

“But don't pounce on her. Only return what she's offered you, the light brush of your hand, a casual touch, and watch how she responds.” To prove her point, Hal bounced lightly to the side until her leg touched Quinn's from the knee to the hip.

Quinn leaned in, lengthening the contact for a few seconds before
giving Hal a playful little hip bump and putting some distance between them again.

“See, she just told me she's open, but she's not ready to get too close yet.”

“She's teasing you?” Ian asked.

Hal grinned at Quinn. “Maybe, but that's part of the fun.”

“We're giving you the abbreviated version,” Quinn noted to Ian. “Normally this doesn't all happen in one song. Take your time. Enjoy the process.”

“And you don't know your girl as well as Quinn and I know each other,” Hal reminded both of them. “Despite what you see on T.V., your goal is not to score tonight.”

“Your goal is not to score, ever,” Quinn said, still dancing, but now choosing her words much more deliberately than her steps. Hal's allusion to how well they knew each other sparked something deeper, something more emotional in her. It tightened her chest a little bit. How different would their relationship have been if she'd taken the time to get to know her from the start instead of just pushing for what she wanted. “Your goal should be to get to know her. You don't get to decide what's best for her. You have to work toward something together. Make sure you let her know you want that, or you might seem predatory.”

“And sometimes when you come on too strong, even if you don't mean to, it can put her on the defensive,” Hal said, her eyes on Quinn's and their bodies edging closer with each beat of the bass. “If you make her feel like she's backed into a corner, her default answer will be no, no matter what you say or do after that.”

“And you'll have only yourself to blame,” Quinn added.

“It's sad, really, because a few simple miscues can really spin out of control.” Hal's gaze fell to Quinn's lips as they stood only inches apart now. “If you don't get it under control, you might both miss out on something that could've been good.”

“Could've been great,” Quinn muttered, taking the last step until her thighs brushed up against Hal.

A knock at the door shattered the moment, causing Ian to jump up. “Thank God, Sully's here.”

Hal and Quinn moved quickly apart, then turned to stare at him as if suddenly remembering he was an actual person and not just some plot device to allow them to say the things they'd said without saying them directly to one another.

“Hey,” Sully said, sticking her head inside the door. “Ready to go?”

“Past ready,” Ian said.

“Why, what happened?”

Ian glanced over his shoulder at Hal and Quinn. “I have no idea.”

Sully raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Dance lesson gone a bit overboard.” Hal offered the explanation as casually as one could expect given how close they'd just been.

“Don't worry, and be yourself. Your most respectful, honest self.” Quinn tried to recover into big sister mode.

“And have fun,” Hal added.

“Okie dokie, Mom and Dad. You're not acting weird at all,” Sully said with an eye roll. “Don't wait up. We'll be out late. The kid can crash with me tonight.”

“Really?” Ian asked.

“Yeah, I figure someone's got to be there to protect you from the nightmares you're bound to have after taking dance lessons from the odd couple over there.”

“Thank you,” Ian said with exaggerated gratitude, or maybe it was genuine.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Quinn turned back to Hal. “We got a little off track there.”

Hal's smile expressed enough chagrin to convey she understood that, but not enough to hint at true embarrassment. “We did.”

“We could talk about that.”

“We could.”

“Or we could just call it a night.”

“Also a possibility,” Hal agreed, with a raised eyebrow and an outstretched hand. “Or we could dance.”

“Yeah.” Quinn nodded, her chest filling with hope and desire. “I vote for that.”

They'd been in each other's arms for hours or maybe minutes, Hal didn't know, and it didn't seem to matter. With their audience gone, Quinn had quickly burst what was left of both their personal space bubbles. Now she swayed to the hypnotic trance of Kylie Minogue's “Slow.” Her chest, hips, and legs all pressed lightly against Hal's. God, she felt amazing, all soft and warm. Hal tightened the hold she had around Quinn's waist and worked a knee between Quinn's legs. They'd long ago kicked off their shoes, and Quinn's bare feet brushed against her own. There was something incredibly intimate in the simple touch. Something sexy, too.

She caressed the small of Quinn's back through her thin cotton blouse. What were they doing? Earlier Hal had wondered what they'd have left without all the misgivings that had governed their early interactions. They'd stripped away all the business talk, the sharp retorts and suspicion, the defensiveness. Turns out all they had left was a whole lot of attraction. It coursed through her in a low hum of energy like the air right before a thunderstorm.

“Hal,” Quinn whispered, her mouth so close to her neck the warmth of the word spread across her skin.

“Hmm?”

“You finally got me barefoot in the kitchen.”

Hal smiled. “It's a start. But you're going to have to explain to me why you're still wearing khakis and a collared shirt at eleven o'clock on a Saturday night.”

“Fine.” Quinn placed a feather-light kiss on her temple. “But only if you explain your fashion fetish.”

They rocked together, Hal's thigh pushing more firmly into Quinn, feeling the heat there at her center and stirring a similar warmth in herself. “Seems a fair trade. We could continue talking about clothes all night if you want. Or we could just remove that distraction altogether.”

Quinn smiled against Hal's cheek. “You are full of good ideas tonight.”

Hal turned her face the inch needed for her lips to find Quinn's. She'd intended to go slow, to savor, to do all the exploring she'd missed last time, but Quinn had other ideas. She slipped her tongue into
Hal's mouth, and the kiss caught fire once again. What was it about this woman that could spark all the desire her body could hold in just a second of contact? The lightest flick of her tongue against Hal's stole all her smart retorts, all her cool moves, all her restraint, and she devolved into a ball of need and nerve endings.

Quinn pulled Hal flush against her, holding her tightly as they continued to rock to the electronic thump of the music, now as one body instead of two. They kissed deeply as their energy levels rose so quickly they reached the point where they had to steal heated breaths from the corner of their mouths. Apparently she and Quinn had no lower gear. They jumped from idle right to full speed. Everything else they did, even the most basic interactions, got weighed, analyzed, even agonized over, but the minute their mouths found each other, all forms of logic and restraint disintegrated.

Quinn clutched the T-shirt at Hal's back, balling it into her fist and causing it to ride up. Hal felt the cool air of her exposed skin only a moment before being replaced by the heat of Quinn's palm and the press of her fingers. She wanted to feel the same, to mirror the touch and push for more, so she worked her own hands under the hem of Quinn's shirt, closing them around the curve of her waist and sliding them up. Kneading as she went, she wanted to massage every inch of her smooth, hot skin, and the shirt only got in the way.

Oh yeah, the clothes were the problem. That's what started this whole thing happening between them now. No, this thing started long before tonight, and somehow even in her haze, she understood it wouldn't end tonight, either, and at least in the moment she could admit to herself she didn't want it to. She wanted Quinn, in multiple ways, in every way, and she didn't want that to end. But now wasn't the time to think about what she'd want tomorrow. She had plenty of desire to hold her for this moment. Withdrawing her hands from inside Quinn's shirt, she worked back up from the outside, flipping open buttons as she went. With the last one sprung, she pushed the fabric off her shoulders and replaced it with her mouth.

She licked and sucked the elegant line of Quinn's collarbone and down her chest to the thin line of lace at the top of her bra. The fabric suddenly enticed her, and she cupped it in her hands. So soft,
so inviting. Teasing, squeezing, she ran her fingers over the nipples pushing against their restraint.

Quinn trembled beneath her and sank a hand into Hal's hair, pinning her head down for a moment before tightening her fingers and pulling back. Hal met her eyes, finding them a much darker shade of blue now.

“I'm not doing this standing up again.”

“Bed?” Hal asked.

Quinn nodded and recaptured her mouth. Her tongue was hot and damn talented. Hal felt a rush of her own heat spreading through her again at the thought of that tongue in other places. She had to get them both naked, and fast. They stumbled together, trying to walk and kiss without lessening any of the contact between them. Hal moved backward, trying to pull Quinn with her, but every few steps they got lost, blinded with lust and driven to move only toward each other.

They made it as far as the living room before they stopped again. This time Quinn groped at Hal's shirt, pushing it up roughly and raking her fingernails across her abs and stomach. They pulled apart enough to remove the shirt and steal a couple more breaths. Hal glanced up the stairs Ian had taken two at a time, but they suddenly seemed Everest-esque in their height. Turning back frantically, she spotted an easier path.

“Couch?” she asked, nodding her head toward the nearest flat surface.

“Brilliant,” Quinn mumbled and gave her a shove in that direction.

Hal stumbled the few steps she needed, then caught Quinn's arm and pulled her close again. The now-bare skin of their stomachs met, but the bra that had seemed so enthralling moments ago served only as a barrier now. She flipped open the clasp and ran her hands back over Quinn's shoulders, slipping the straps down as she went. The bra dropped silently to the floor, revealing a perfection even better than she'd remembered, but before she could touch or taste the way she longed to, Quinn placed her palms flat against her chest and pushed. The back of her legs hit the couch, and she dropped easily. Sinking into the thick cushions, Hal let her hands rest on her knees and her
head loll back as she relaxed into the stunning view of Quinn standing, bare chested and beautiful, before her. She reached out to touch, but Quinn shook her head.