Sinclair stood on Hunter's steps with an umbrella protecting her hair from the rain. The wind whipped fiercely around her, tugging at her clothes and flinging raindrops all over her. After the cookout on the beach she'd found herself thinking of Hunter more and more, wondering if she and Lydia were still together, and if not then.... Sinclair had managed to wait as long as Wednesday, three days after the cookout, to go find Hunter. Her belly trembled with nervousness as she knocked on the door.
"I came by to see how the painting was going," she said when Hunter answered her knock.
She smiled tiredly. "It's almost done, but you can't see it. I'm working on other not-so-fun stuff right now."
"Spoilsport." Sinclair made a face. "Can I at least come in?"
"Absolutely." The other woman's eyes slid over her. "You're always welcome here." She leaned against the doorjamb and her smile widened. The exhaustion slowly bled from her face. "It really is good to see you."
"Really? Then why won't you let me in?"
Hunter laughed. "Because I like to see you getting wet?"
"Very funny." Sinclair tucked her umbrella into a corner of the verandah, then sidled closer to the doorway. Hunter didn't move. If possible, the rain started coming down harder. Lightning split the darkened sky and a roar of thunder quickly followed. Hunter stepped out of the doorway toward Sinclair. "Come on. Let's try something."
"What?" Sinclair looked at her with suspicion and took a step back. "Are you talking about getting me killed?"
"Come, fraidy cat." She tugged at her fingers. Like a fool, Sinclair went with her.
Without her umbrella the rain was cold and wet, sliding into her hair and under her shirt with chilled fingers. "Oh! This is not fun."
"Yes, it is." Hunter grabbed her hand and pulled her to the backyard. The stone bench looked like a fountain with sheets of water pouring from it, flooding the grass and covering Sinclair's toes. She kicked off her waterlogged sandals.
Hunter released her hand. "Isn't this nice?" She twirled in the downpour, flinging her arms wide and laughing. Her hair flared out around her and rain fell into her open mouth and down her neck. A reluctant smile touched Sinclair's mouth. The other woman's excitement was contagious, bubbling up a fever of appreciation inside of her. The rain no longer felt cold, it was clean, with the heaviness of a friendly touch or a lover's worshipful kiss. The leaves whispered under the rain's caresses, talking to each other, celebrating. She felt a pull at her shirt and refocused on the other woman.
"Let's get naked in it," Hunter said. She might as well have been naked already in the white T-shirt and pale blue pajama bottoms that clung to her wet skin.
"What?!"
"It'll be great. One with nature and all that."
|
|
|
"It's storming, you crazy woman!"
"I know! So let's get naked." Her fingers pulled at Sinclair's shirt again, loosening a button.
"No." She backed away a step, then another as the other woman came after her.
"Don't run," Hunter growled.
Of course Sinclair ran. She ran screaming around the yard, dodging the stone bench to run deeper into the wooded area, jumping over high, twisting roots and tall shrubbery. The rain stung her eyes, but still she ran. Hunter was a blur of white and dark behind her, then right at her heel. She squeaked, an embarrassingly girlish sound, when the other woman's hand latched onto hers, and brought her up short. Still she tried to pull away, darting around a tree and using the wide trunk to force Hunter into releasing her. The rough bark abraded Hunter's arm and she let go with a loud curse. Sinclair ran back to the grassy area of the yard, past the bench, her toes squishing in the wet grass, when Hunter grabbed her. They both heard the shirt rip. Sinclair swung around. Damn! The back door had been so close....
Hunter's face became hard under the rain, focused. Sinclair looked down at herself, then blushed. She gathered the torn ends of her shirt together and backed away.
"Shit. I'm sorry." Hunter shook the hair out of her face. "I tend to get a little carried away."
"It's-" Sinclair cleared her froggy throat. "It's fine." The rain and wind continued to howl around them as they stared at each other.
Hunter arched her head back, apparently still feeling the wildness of the storm rush through her.
"Go ahead," Sinclair said. "I'll be in the house." She slid into the back door, then dashed to the bathroom, trailing wetness behind her. Her nipples were hard, shamelessly begging through the wet material to be touched. And Hunter had seen. Sinclair toweled herself dry after dropping the shirt and jeans in the tub. Her hair she squeezed dry and quickly combed into two short French braids. A knock came at the door.
"I brought you some dry clothes." Hunter's hand appeared through a crack in the door. As soon as Sinclair took the oversized shirt and cutoff shorts, the hand disappeared.
Only after she was dressed and composed, did Sinclair leave the bathroom. Hunter must have thought she fell in or some thing. But the other woman was patiently waiting in the sitting room, dry in a sky blue head wrap that completely covered her hair and yet another pair of cutoff jeans and a T-shirt. She had tea waiting, two cups of hot peppermint along with biscuits on a shared plate.
"Sorry again about your shirt. I didn't mean to get quite so out of hand." Her speech hardened into precise British syllables.
"There's no need to apologize. I got taken in by the storm, too." The drum of rain on the roof and the shudder of the trees just outside reminded them that the storm was still there. "You'll just have to buy me a new shirt and we'll call it even."
Hunter smiled, then opened her mouth. She closed it again.
"What?" Sinclair asked.
"Nothing. I was about to speak out of turn then I caught myself. Don't worry about it." She waved a dismissive hand.
Sinclair wanted to know. Somehow she felt that it was important. "What were you going to say?" she asked softly.
|
|
|
"That you look good in my clothes." Hunter sprawled back in the chair. That wasn't all she had to say. "And I'd like to have been the direct cause of you getting wet, the reason for you to take off your underwear."
Sinclair felt herself swell against the seam of Hunter's shorts.
"Are you wearing panties now?"
"You're right." Sinclair took a deep breath. "You were about to speak out of turn."
Hunter laughed. "Chicken."
"No, just cautious. You are my sister's girlfriend, after all." Sinclair took a sip of her tea.
"I was." Hunter dipped a digestive biscuit into the cup of steaming brew. "Now I'm just me."
Sinclair almost choked on her tea. Abruptly, her world shifted and resettled itself into a different arrangement. Hunter was available. Sinclair no longer had an excuse not to pursue her. Sinclair swallowed twice then carefully put the cup down. "I see."
"Do you?"
The china made a soft noise as cup met saucer. Hunter pursed her lips and watched Sinclair. Her eyes were warm with humor and something else.
Sinclair held out her hands like she was warding the other woman off. "I'm not up to playing with the big girls."
Hunter continued to watch her. "Is this cautious attitude because of the girl who fucked you in the big city? The one you're running away from?"
"Fucked me, huh?" Sinclair's mouth curved into an unexpected smile. "You have no idea." Then she sobered again as Hunter's look became predatory, sharpening and focusing intently on her.
"Does that mean she was good in bed?"
"Very. She introduced me to multiple orgasms."
Hunter's legs widened in the chair. She leaned forward and braced her elbows on her thighs. "Big shoes to fill, indeed."
Sinclair laughed out loud. "You are so full of yourself."
"No. I just want you."
And there it was. Out in the open at last. A trembling breath left Sinclair's mouth.
"When you and this girl first got together, did you make the first move or did she?" Hunter asked.
Sinclair wondered where Hunter was going with this. "She did."
"Is that typical of you, or-" she smiled, "if you want something badly enough do you just take it?"
Against her will, Sinclair glanced down at the wide V of Hunter's thighs and imagined the scent and taste that lay there.
"So, do you?" Hunter's eyes dared her.
But, like Hunter said, Sinclair was a fraidy cat. She looked away to the rain-swept verandah and the plants that whipped like dervishes in the mad wind.
"I guess not." Hunter stood. "Do you want some more tea?"
"Uh, sure," Sinclair stammered and watched confused as the other woman disappeared into the kitchen, then came back with a porcelain kettle. She poured herself another cup and topped off Sinclair's before sitting once again in her chair.
"Listen." But Sinclair stopped, sighed, and could not go on.
"I am listening."
Sinclair sighed again. "Regina really hurt me. I'm not up to playing any more games."
"Games are for children. I'd like to think that we've both passed that stage. You have a few weeks left here." Hunter's voice deepened. "I know that you're attracted to me and I certainly, absolutely, am attracted to you. I also know that my previous involvement with Lydia makes things... problematic." She chuckled ruefully. "But let's not dwell on the past, instead we should spend some time together. I could be your perfect vacation fuck."
A blush warmed Sinclair's face. But that was nothing compared to the heat that flared between her thighs at Hunter's words. "Let me think about it," she said.
"Fair enough." The seducer abruptly retreated as Hunter stood up. "Would you like a formal tour of the house?"
