Page 23 of Pushing Daisy
Daisy
“Now, let’s switch,” Franklin says as he holds the sheet up again. Sloan slides out of bed, gathering her robe around herself. She calls out, letting Daisy know she can turn around. Franklin quickly changes the sheets and then instructs Daisy to approach the table the same way he did Sloan. Once Daisy is settled on the table, he goes through all the same motions that he did with her, but now with Sloan.
When Sloan’s hands find their way to her back, goosebumps emerge from the point of contact down to her toes. Her touch is firm but gentle.
“Is the pressure okay?” Sloan asks.
“Mm-hmm,” Daisy hums, trying to resist the pressure building within her own body. Sloan’s hands slide up and down her back, releasing pent-up energy she didn’t even realize was there. Her hands are soft. Gentle. Warm. Her touch feels as if it was made only for Daisy, and its pleasantness is confusing. Reminding herself that Sloan suggested this experience as a trust exercise, Daisy swallows the lump in her throat, willing her body to relax under her nemesis’s hands. As Sloan’s hands slide down her back toward her barely covered ass, heat begins to build in her chest, moving down to her core. Tingling sensations build in her toes, fingertips, and…other regions as she falls into the pressure and rhythm of Sloan’s hands working her muscles. She shouldn’t enjoy being touched by Sloan. And she definitely shouldn’t be wondering what Sloan’s touch feels like elsewhere on her body.
Despite her body betraying her with the growing tension, the massage is oddly comforting, leaving Daisy feeling more at ease, if not slightly more sexually confused and frustrated, than when they started. In what seems like too short of a time, Franklin calls for the end of their session.
“I had a wonderful time showing you these techniques. I hope you also had an enjoyable time and learned something new,” he says.
“Thank you. That was wonderful,” Sloan responds with what looks to be a genuine smile. Daisy’s head quirks to the side. That may be the first time Daisy has seen something real coming from Sloan.
“Yes, thank you so much. I feel much more relaxed,” Daisy says, only half lying.
“Wonderful. Have yourselves a great rest of your stay!” he says before leaving the room. The click of the door behind him is like a spilled potion vial, setting off a reaction inside Daisy that she can’t contain.
“What the hell?” she yells, startling Sloan who jumps at the volume. “Why did you push me into this? We barely know each other, and you thought having our hands all over me would be a good idea?”
“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t— You could have—” Sloan sputters. Her eyes are wide with surprise, and from the pulsing Daisy can see at her throat, it looks like her heart is racing.
“No, you didn’t think. I don’t know how you do things, but I typically don’t go rubbing up on people I barely know.” The words are out before she can think about them, and instantly, she regrets it. Lashing out at Sloan feels like the only valid response to everything she feels internally—confusion, pleasure, an odd sense of connection to the one witch she wants nothing to do with. It’s too much, and rather than let her magic loose, she manages to channel her feelings into anger at the glowing woman before her. She looks to her hands and sees sparks dancing at her fingertips. Fuck. She clenches her fists, trying to hide her magical frustration.
“Hey now! There’s no reason for that,” Sloan replies firmly. Though she attempts to push back, Daisy hears the hurt in her voice.
“I’m going back to my room to shower. By the time I’m done, I want you gone. This arrangement isn’t working,” Daisy says, gathering her clothes and leaving the room in a huff. She doesn’t look back at Sloan as she goes, but she can only assume Sloan is as confused as she is.
When Daisy emerges from the bathroom an hour later, towel wrapped around her body, she steps into the room and stops short. Sloan is sprawled across the bed, lying on her stomach with her feet up in the air, as she reads some novel she must have brought with her. Irrational fury builds inside Daisy at the sight of her, creating sparks at her fingertips again. The lack of control over her power has grown from frustration and embarrassment to straight anger. Her emotions rule everything about her power, making Daisy feel small inside, like a new witchling all over again. Tears build at the edge of her eyes, threatening to spill over and reveal how broken she feels. She can’t have that. She can’t let Sloan see what she’s doing to her. “I thought I said I wanted you gone by the time I came out?”
“You did,” Sloan answers as she continues to read her book.
Daisy clenches her jaw. “Then why are you still here?”
“Because I decided I didn’t want to leave. I think this weekend is a great opportunity,” Sloan replies.
“So it’s about what you want, then?” Daisy asks incredulously, glaring at Sloan.
“No. It’s about doing what is best for this event. It’s about not letting you push me around anymore.” Sloan answers, pushing herself up and swinging her legs around to sit up. Her eyes meet Daisy’s unflinchingly. “It’s about you realizing we need to work together if we want this event to be successful. So I suggest you find a way to get over yourself so we can actually be successful.”
Daisy stares at her, stunned. “You witch…”
“Correct,” Sloan deadpans.
“How dare you speak to me that way? You have no right. After all these years, you have no right to even look at me, let alone be in my hotel room.”
“As much as I would love to take a trip down memory lane, we don’t have time. Per the itinerary, we have a dinner reservation in half an hour. I suggest you go and get dressed,” Sloan responds while she stands, moves to her bag, and pulls out a change of clothes.
Daisy huffs out a breath, fighting the urge to yell at her. To order her to leave. But she needs this weekend to go well. She needs to book the inn as the host site. With a hand clasped on her towel, Daisy angrily snatches her bag off the chair beside the bed and retreats to the bathroom once again.
She quickly changes, dressing in tight dark-wash jeans and a leopard-print sweater. She blow-dries her hair, tosses it into a claw clip, and does a quick and simple natural makeup look. When she reenters the bedroom area, Sloan is in a fitted black dress that accentuates her perfect curves and shows off her ample cleavage in the most delicious of ways—or so someone would think if they were into someone like her.
“You look nice,” Sloan says softly after barely glancing at Daisy. Daisy knows she’s trying to break the tension from earlier, but the compliment still hits a sensitive spot. It sparks an ember of warmth in her chest that almost feels like hope. Hope for what, she doesn’t know, but it’s been a while since she’s felt anything other than anger, so she’ll take it, even if it is from Sloan.
“Thanks. You too. I guess.”
Sloan snorts. “Thanks. I guess.”
