Page 123 of Spindrift

“You,”Morgan said as she twirled one last strand of pasta onto her fork, “are agoddess.”

Emiliaused her next sip of wine as a cover to stare at the flush in Morgan’s cheeksand neck, planning to deepen it very soon. They would not need to be quiethere.

“Seriously,why have I been cooking?”

“BecauseI like seeing you behind a grill.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.It’s a reminder I’m playing with fire.” She held Morgan’s eyes and was rewardedby her dilating pupils. She could get used to this. The small dining nook inthe kitchen held the table she’d polished to a sheen a few days before, and thehouse felt less haunted with Morgan in it. Still holding Morgan’s gaze, sheallowed herself to imagine sharing this house with her, waking next toher—she'd figure out the bedroom situation—and spending evenings just likethis. She couldn’t, however, tell Morgan about her tentative plans. Not yet.Not until she was absolutely certain.

“Areyou going to tell me what you were thinking about earlier? There’s nothing toburn now.”

Morganleaned back in her chair. “I could light something.”

“Nofire pit, here.”Although I could build one.

“That’sa pity.”

“Truly.”She put down her glass and stood. Morgan made to follow suit, but Emilia pushedher back down in her chair and straddled her.

“Fuck,girl,” she whispered as Emilia ran her hands over her chest, not quite touchingher breasts.

“Pleasetell me?”

“Iwas thinking about you.”

“How?”

Morgan’shands slid beneath her shorts and pulled her closer. “Do you really have toask?”

Shetangled her hands in Morgan’s hair as she struggled to come up with a meaningfor Morgan’s words. She knew what she wanted them to be; she also knew shecouldn’t afford to misread this.

“Yes.”

“Iwas thinking . . .” Morgan paused and Emilia held her breath. “Boston doesn’tdeserve you.”

Theair between them stilled. Emilia discarded half a hundred responses in thespace of a heartbeat. Morgan hadn’t asked her to stay. She knew Morgan wellenough to know she would find that disrespectful, but it was so close to arequest the air in her lungs turned solid.I’ll stay if you ask, shethought. Morgan’s dark curls were locked around her fingers, and with thatthought came the realization that by not asking, by keeping the question sealedbehind those slate blue eyes, Morgan had broken down the last of the flimsybarriers Emilia had managed to keep in place.

Howlong had she been in love with Morgan? She searched her face, counting thefreckles across her cheeks and loving the dark curve of her eyebrows, such acontrast to the pale skin beneath.

Ilove you, shethought, testing the words she’d forbidden herself to think.

Shekissed Morgan fiercely. Morgan matched her in intensity and lifted her,growling as she backed Emilia into the kitchen wall. She kept her legs wrappedtightly around Morgan’s waist. The solid wood of the wall provided leverage forher hips, and she pressed into Morgan as Morgan broke the kiss to bite theplace where her neck met her shoulder. Love and lust blurred. She needed her.Needed her with a ferocity that filled her with a heady, feral joy. She wantedto break herself against this woman. She’d been broken so many times alreadythis year, never by choice, but in Morgan’s arms she knew she could come undonewithout losing herself.

“Thecouch,” she said as best she could with her breath ratcheting into new gears.It would take too long to get upstairs, and upstairs—she shut the thought down.She would not think about her father’s room. Morgan’s hips surged with hers,and she let the thought and its suppression go.

“Please,”she begged Morgan. “I need you.”

Morgan’shands tightened on her waist and Emilia felt the certainty of her heart beatingagainst her palms. She felt, too, the effect her words had on Morgan, and slidto the ground so she could tug Morgan into the living room. Then she pulled herdown on top of her on the couch. Her legs rewrapped themselves around Morgan’swaist, and she dug her nails into the hard muscles of Morgan’s back. Morgan whimpered,half with pain, half with desire, and when Emilia paused for fear of hurtingher Morgan said, “Don’t you dare stop.”

Sheripped Morgan’s shirt over her head and fumbled with her bra until it gave. Hernails marked Morgan’s back, and while a distant part of her wondered at thisnew intensity, she was too lost in it to care.

Herown shirt went next, though she complicated this by refusing to relinquish hergrip on Morgan.

“Girl,”Morgan said, and for the first time since they’d started sleeping together, sheused her superior strength to take control without Emilia’s permission. Pinningher with one arm, she eased Emilia’s shirt over her head while her chest heavedwith a new thrill of longing. She was dimly aware that she had never been thisturned on in her life.

“Everytime,” Morgan said as she touched the curve of Emilia’s breasts. “I forget howfucking perfect you are.”

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