Page 22 of Beneath Her Hands
“Um, sure,” Rosalind answered, though she wouldn’t lift her eyes from the floor.
“I don’t know the answer to your question,” Jane said as she went into the small kitchen attached to the living room. “I don’t know what you’re doing, or what you plan to do.” Jane pulled a bottle of silver tequila out of her cabinet along with some salt and two glasses. She rimmed the glasses with the salt and added ice. Then she added the tequila and some orange liqueur before topping them off with the sour mix in the cabinet.
“You do this often?” Rosalind asked, and Jane realized that she’d been watching her.
“Uh, yeah, probably more often than I should. I like trying different things, different ways of mixing drinks, it’s interesting.” She couldn’t read Rosalind’s expression. It was something between curiosity and amusement.
“Why?” Rosalind asked.
“Why what? Why do I do it?”
“Why do you like it?” Rosalind lifted an eyebrow.
“Do you not like cocktails?” Jane asked with a slight smile. Despite their strange date, she felt comfortable.
“I don’t know,” Rosalind answered honestly. “I haven’t really had the option, when we’d drink it was usually something locally distilled that tasted like ether.”
“Yikes,” Jane said with a laugh. “I don’t think I could do that.”
“I didn’t either,” Rosalind said with a chuckle, though her eyes turned dark.
Jane looked at her, more closely this time, gauging her thoughts. She couldn’t begin to imagine the things Rosalind had seen.
“I’ve seen some awful things,” Jane said, her words weighted. “Things that make me question everything. I’ve seen young mothers get sick and die, I’ve seen children killed in accidents, both preventable and not. I’ve seen accidents and disease that have no rhyme or reason, but I’ve only caught glimpses of the brutality of humanity, an abused or neglected spouse or child, things of that nature. I can’t even comprehend some of what you’ve been through.”
“It doesn’t make sense, and questioning whether it should will only lead to dark places,” Rosalind said, a faraway look in her eyes. “But it makes you appreciate things, small things, like taking the time to make a fancy cocktail.” Rosalind lifted her eyes, and the gaze pierced through her. “You learn to recognize that today is really all you have, there’s no time to take things for granted, because it probably won’t be here tomorrow.”
Jane couldn’t think of a response to that, so she lifted the glasses and walked them to the couch. She handed one to Rosalind, and excitement swept through her as Rosalind’s fingers lingered over her own when she took it. Rosalind sipped it tentatively.
“This one is better than Maria’s,” Rosalind said with a smile that started to crack the tension.
“I use better tequila,” Jane said with a slight purse of her lips.
Rosalind laughed and the atmosphere seemed to change completely. She took another couple of sips and her eyes drifted around the room. Jane suddenly became self-conscious about the small apartment. She rented it because of its proximity to the hospital and because of the cheap rent. It was sparsely decorated, but it was hers. She’d made sure of that after Leslie left. Now that Rosalind was taking it all in, she looked at it with a new perspective. She wished she could read Rosalind’s mind.
“I like you’re place; it fits you,” Rosalind said, and Jane felt heat creeping into her cheeks. “You seem to fit here.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Jane said, slightly flustered.
“It reflects you—tasteful, thoughtful, beautiful,” Rosalind’s eyes turned back to Jane, and Jane’s heart started pounding. “Tell me, Jane, what do you want?”
“You’re going to have to be a lot more specific,” Jane said. Warmth pooled through her as Rosalind leaned closer.
“Right now, right in this moment, what do you want?” Rosalind asked again.
Jane wet her lips, and Rosalind’s eyes flicked toward the movement before landing on hers again. Rosalind lifted a hand and brushed Jane’s hair behind her ear and electricity danced on Jane’s skin.
“Whatever you want, I’m here for it,” Rosalind whispered and kissed her cheek, then traced her lips down Jane’s jaw. Desire burned through Jane and settled deep between her legs.
“I want you,” Jane whispered as Rosalind’s lips found the curve of her neck.
“I want you, too,” Rosalind whispered back. Jane’s breath caught, and she struggled not to drop her margarita. Rosalind sat up and set her glass down on the table, and Jane did the same. She stood up and took Rosalind’s hand. Her heart was pounding, but nothing else mattered in that moment. Rosalind’s sharp eyes were penetrating her as she led her back into the bedroom. Rosalind followed with a slight smile, her cheeks were flushed slightly, which only made Jane more excited.
Rosalind kissed her again, softer this time, slipping her tongue slowly into Jane’s mouth with languid strokes, and Jane’s hands found the hem of Rosalind’s shirt. She pulled it over her head and pulled back to look at her. Scars knotted in places on her skin, a testament to the hells she’d endured, and Jane lightly traced her fingers over them. The puckered skin was beautiful, meaningful. Rosalind’s jaw tightened as Jane touchedthem, and suddenly she felt self-conscious. Maybe Rosalind wasn’t comfortable with the touch, but she continued anyway.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jane said softly, looking into Rosalind’s eyes.
“So are you,” Rosalind said.
