Page 49 of Games We Play
“No. Why would I be?” Only thing she was getting up for was a cigarette. As she came down from her own headspace, she increasingly wanted a fucking cigarette.
Leah stopped sniffing, although the tears continued to color Sloan’s chest. “I don’t know.”
I need to think of something. Fast.“Do you want to take a bath? Together?”
Leah’s heard perked up. Her matted curls were plastered to her forehead, thanks to the wayward tears and sweat from their physical activities. “You wanna do that?”
“I’m pretty sweaty. It’s difficult for me to sleep without being clean first.” Some people called her high maintenance for that. Sloan calledthemdisgusting and smelly. “Why don’t we hop in the tub? You’ll relax. It always worked for me.”
That last part was an off-hand comment. Sloan had foolishly assumed that Leah’s current mental state meant she wasn’t perceptive to the underlying meanings spilling from her partner’s mouth. “You know what this feels like?”
Sighing, Sloan got up, careful to keep her movements slow and unlikely to frighten her poor lover. Nobody knew better than Margaret Sloan how volatile a subdropped woman could be. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it later. How about we put on some music and soak in that tub?”
Leah nodded, but she wasn’t about to get up by herself. She extended her hands to Sloan and motioned for her to do most of the heavy lifting.
Sloan wasn’t strong enough to carry Leah into the bathroom. She would have to settle for an escort in Sloan’s embrace, and not once leaving her side the whole time the tub filled with soapy water and candles burned in the darkened master bath.
She was still crying little tears by the time she hopped into the tub, but Leah also had a smile that said this was the greatest night of her life.God, I’m so sorry.Sloan played along, going as far as letting Leah sit between her legs and lean against her chest. Sloan’s arm hung over the side of the tub, her face consumed by Leah’s hair.
It was the most intimate thing she had done in years. The fact it warmed one cockle of her heart was so unbearable that she almost joined Leah in her tears.
But she didn’t. She had to be the strong one. It was what she claimed to want when she left the life of a submissive woman over five years ago.
Chapter 17
Sloan barely slept that night. When her dreams didn’t haunt her with memories of another life, she was subjected to Leah’s clinginess that knew no damned boundaries. She indulged her, of course. Why not let Leah snuggle up to her for most of the night, her breath heavy and hot, her toes sharp against Sloan’s legs, and her pubic hair tickling well until dawn.
Why the fuck not!
I give up getting sleep.That’s what Sloan thought the moment she saw daylight beyond the curtains. She gently pried Leah off her and texted Ayla to order them something for breakfast. Anything, as long as it wasn’t too greasy.
Sloan unearthed an old pair of yoga pants from the bottom of the dresser and searched five minutes for a decent shirt to wear. She ran her fingers across her scalp, shivering. If her head was cold, then it must be time to turn up the heat a little.
She might also have been hallucinating, because she swore she heard the front door of the small apartment open.
Her finger was on the button to summon security faster than she could rationalize who it might be.Cleaning crew? No way. It’s Sunday.Had Ayla dropped by since she was in the neighborhood? Hell no! She would never do that without texting her boss first!
That left one possible person – outside of a burglar, of course. Sloan glanced at Leah, still asleep in the bed, and hustled into the hallway before they were both caught off guard.
“What the…” Sloan almost didn’t recognize the woman in her foyer, dressed in nothing but a flirty trench coat and a snug dress beneath. She had already kicked off one shoe when she looked up, startled to see Sloan in her PJs. “What thehellare you doing here, and why do you have a fucking key to my apartment?”
Christie Yearwood’s eyes lit up in delight once she realized what had happened. “My, my,” she said, her voice flirtier than her getup. It was a far cry from what she wore to the fundraiser the night before. “I didn’t know you would be here, but this changeseverything.” She cocked her head, silky brown hair moving to reveal her dangly ruby earrings.I used to have a pair like that.“Your hair! I knew you wore wigs, but never expected you to be pulling a Sinead O’Connor beneath them!”
“What. Are. You.Doing here?”
“Don’t be like that. Our mutual acquaintance told me to come here.”
“At eight in the mor…who?”
Christie, with her hands on her hips, looked like she owned the place as opposed to breaking into it. “You really don’t know? I thought our lovely conversation last night implied you knew we would be meeting this morning.”
“For what, exactly?”
Christie shrugged. “Sex.”
Are you kidding me?No wonder Christie was so invested in conversation the night before!She must have thought I was flirting back!Sloan always flirted with women, but not likethat!Not with Christie Yearwood, especially!I knew she was interested, but… c’mon!
“I’m quite satisfied already, thank you.” Sloan might be in the mood for rolling around with Leah once more before she had to go back to Portland, but she wasnottaking on new lovers anytime soon. That definitely included socialites who probably treated lesbian sex like that naughty thing they did in their twenties before settling down with boring, unimaginative yet demanding husbands.What does that boar you’re rumored to be dating think of this?Sloan couldn’t remember his name – that’s how little she cared about inane dating scandals. “Your services aren’t needed here.”
