Page 94 of Windlass

“Be right back,” said Stevie, her heart lunging out of her chest. Despite her words, however, she didn’t pull away.

“Too bad I’ve already had you twice this week,” she said into Angie’s ear.

“New week starts Sunday at 12:01 a.m.”

“Not that you’re counting.” She grazed the shell of Angie’s ear with her teeth, which made Angie squirm, her breathy gasps raking hot claws through Stevie’s stomach. She needed this woman. Now.

“Like you’re not.”

Stevie absolutely was. In answer she found Angie’s taut nipple, which strained through the fabric of her thin blouse because Angie was actively trying to murder her by not wearing a bra, and rolled it between her fingers until Angie’s hips bucked.

It really would be torture to watch Angie walk around looking like this without being able to touch her. Her blouse tied at her navel revealed a strip of tan skin, and her loose, subversively preppy pants somehow accentuated her ass just as much, if not more, than the criminally short shorts she slept in. Or maybe Stevie knew now what Angie looked like bent over the kitchen table, and the knowledge superimposed itself over everything Angie wore. She unbuttoned another button.

“Wear it like this,” Stevie ordered.

“Whatever you say.”

God, she shouldn’t like hearing that in Angie’s breathiest tone as much as she did.

Tires crunched the gravel. Jaq might be taking care of the horses and James, but Marvin, who was accompanying them, barked in excitement. He’d seen his food, bowl, and favorite toys packed and knew what that meant. Stevie gave Angie’s breasts a farewell caress before stepping back.

Angie’s eyes dripped need. Stevie retraced her steps and pressed Angie back against the wall, their foreheads together, lips just barely apart. Of all the rules, this was the one she hated most. Kissing Angie consumed her thoughts, especially when she could hear the whine of frustration at the back of Angie’s breath.

Angie’s tongue swept across Stevie’s lower lip, testing her resolve. The cruelty of setting that rule and then teasing her was deliberate. Her only comfort was the physical understanding that Angie wanted it as badly as she did.

“Fuck you,” Stevie said, the brush of tongue searing through her.

“Please.”

A horn honked.

“You aresucha tease.” Stevie pulled away with a groan. “Tell them I’ll be right there.”

She raced upstairs, digging through a drawer until she found the cloth bag where she’d stashed her strap-on and lube, then tore back down just as Angie opened the door.

“Hey hey, babes.” Stormy hopped out of her Jeep. “Morgan sent me to chauffeur you. Stevie, any chance you have any horse tranquilizers lying around? I cannot believe you all are making me get on a boat.”

“Safer than a car.” Angie hoisted her bag and left Stevie behind on the step. She followed, admiring the view.

“Sorry, Morgan won’t leave any controlled drugs with me ever since I tried to spike her oatmeal. Kidding by the way. Are you going to be okay?”

“I am absolutely popping anti-anxiety meds before we get onto Morgan’s death trap.” Stormy might joke, but her face was tight with stress. Her fear of boats was very real.

“We could take the ferry with you if you want. It’s bigger.” Stevie didn’t know the ferry schedule but figured it would be regular in early August.

“Bigger isn’talwaysbetter.” Angie turned to wink at Stevie in the backseat. “But it is in this case.”

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat,” Stevie quoted.

“Not funny,” said Stormy as Stevie began humming theJawstheme song.

“Why are you afraid of boats?” Stevie asked. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Stormy reached a brightly painted, oven-scarred hand back to pat Stevie on the knee. “I’ll tell you, boo. My uncle was a lobsterman. He and my mom were really close. He got knocked out on his boat while fishing alone and drowned.”

“Jesus, I had no idea.”

“You were, what, eight?” Angie said.

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