Page 113 of Touch the Sky
“Right.”
I don’t know why my chest feels hollow all of a sudden. She is right; we’re not together. If one thing has been clear from the start, it’s that.
“So if I’m going to work here for real, I think we have to stop…us.” She motions between our bodies.
She’s making sense. I know she’s making sense, but there’s still blood rushing in my ears at the thought of this being the end of whateverusis.
“Do you think we can?” I ask. “Stop? I mean, we tried that,non?”
Tess stares down at the floral carpet as she thinks for a few long minutes.
“You’re right. We did try,” she says, “but that was before this idea of running the stables together. It’d be a huge responsibility, and honestly, a huge risk for both of us. We’d be putting a lot of trust in each other.”
Maman’s question from the other night floats back into my mind.
‘I trust her enough to give her a chance with this, if she wants to take it. Do you?’
I still don’t know the answer.
“La Grange Rouge is important, right?” Tess asks. “Making it work would have to come first.”
That jolts me back to reality.
I can’t put this farm at risk, not after everythingMamanand I have been through.
“Of course.”
“So this…this can’t keep happening.” Again, she gestures between us, and I realize we’ve somehow moved a little closer on the couch. “Winding up alone with each other…close to each other… We just can’t.”
She squeezes her eyes shut like even looking at me is off limits, and I take the chance to let my gaze sweep over her face.
She’s just so fucking gorgeous.
She’s hot, of course. She’s one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen, but it’s more than that. I don’t just see the outside now. When I look at her, I see a woman who cares so deeply about other people sometimes it tears her apart. I see her fierce devotion to her daughter. I see her wisdom and quiet strength. I see her sly humor and the way she always seems to have the perfect one-liner to take me down a peg tucked up her sleeve.
I see her wild side, the one that bites and grabs andwants. I see the parts of her she only lets out when she’s under me, or over me, or just holding me as close as she can while we come down from the high.
I want to take her there again. I need to. She’s shown me so much, but there’s still so much more of her to see.
“You know what’s crazy?” I ask.
My voice comes out low and rumbling, but I don’t clear my throat. I can’t play this off. We might never speak like this again.
She takes a shuddering breath and then asks, “What?”
We’re leaning towards each other now, slowly turning, bending, curling towards one another like plants looking for the sun.
“I’ve never even fucked you properly,” I tell her, “and now I’m not supposed to touch you at all.”
Her chest is heaving. The glittery red devil horns she’s still got perched on her head shimmer in the light from the kitchen, and she’s never looked more tempting before.
“P-properly?” she stammers.
I lean even closer, so close I’m sure she must be able to hear my heart pounding.
“I mean with my fingers,” I murmur, “and my tongue.”
She shivers, her eyelids fluttering closed. I know I should stop. We’re crossing lines even faster than we’re drawing them now, but all the reasons not to do this fade away when I look at her mouth, her lips already parted for me.
