Page 107 of Broken Beyond Repair
“Should we sort out a few domestic logistics before we get too settled?” Sydney asked tentatively.
“We should,” Beatrice said, crossing her legs.
Her slip rode up high enough that Sydney could see she wasn’t wearing any underwear. It took every ounce of restraint not to dive back in.
“I don’t like to assume I’m moving in already.”
“Why? I want you to. Three months without you almost killed me, Sydney, quite literally when I had a panic attack in the air.”
“Oh, shit. Really?” Sydney asked, placing a glass of water in front of Beatrice. “You missed me that much?”
Although she pitied Beatrice for having experienced that, she couldn’t help taking it as a massive compliment.
“It appears so. If you want a room of your own, you could take the room next to mine,” Beatrice replied. “I don’t know why you didn’t take it before.”
“If I remember rightly, you suggested I took one on the top floor… in the servants’ quarters,” Sydney snarked.
“I don’t recall that,” Beatrice replied as she stuffed the rest of a cracker into her grinning mouth.
“Convenient. Anyway, I liked being above you. You were close by when you couldn’t be close by. And when you were irritating me, it was easy to imagine reaching through the floor and suffocating you with a pillow.”
Beatrice laughed. “Was I really that bad?”
“You were all good. Beneath that exterior, this is who you were. You just took a little warming up to melt away all that ice.”
“Well, I thank you for warming me up. Don’t ever stop, will you, Sydney?”
Sydney slipped herself next to Beatrice and stroked her leg, letting her fingers trail up and then under her slip.
“To keep you warm, I’ll need to be close by. Really close by. At all times.”
“I’ll clear you some space in the dressing room then,” Beatrice replied with a twinkle in her eye.
Sydney woke the next morning thinking she was in one of those dreams again. It couldn’t be reality, could it? Beatrice was lying beside her, partially clad, with one breast hanging out of her slip. This time they were both under the duvet.
She smiled as her thoughts drifted back to their shower, when she had finally connected with Beatrice in the way she’d desired for so long. It was tempting to poke her to check that she was real. A light touch on that soft, warm breast that was calling to her would do no harm.
“Sydney,” Beatrice murmured. “Are you groping my boob whilst I’m sleeping?”
“No,” Sydney was quick to deny. “I was simply checking you were real.”
“I was the last time I checked. What time is it?”
“Ten.”
“Why would you think I wasn’t real?” Beatrice asked, shuffling herself closer.
“I had a dream. That night when I sat here and massaged your leg.”
“Oh, I remember that massage. I didn’t want you to stop.”
“I didn’t want to stop either.”
Their eyes simmered at each other.
“In my dream, you were in the dressing room, in a stunning red dress.”
“Aren’t all red dresses stunning?” Beatrice asked.
