“I’m glad you invited me.” Jett couldn’t miss what was so plainly written in Tristan’s eyes, and the look had been there all afternoon. She owed Tristan more than a safe, polite response. But she had no idea what to say, how to explain that she had no reference for the afternoon they’d shared. She’d spent all her life with men and women in close quarters—comrades—eating together, sleeping together, living and breathing and dying together. But she couldn’t remember a single day that she’d spent in the company of someone by choice, for the pleasure of it. She wanted to tell Tristan how special this day had been, even more because Tristan wasn’t asking.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Jett said.

“Do what?”

“Be with someone—a woman—like this.” Jett stood abruptly, frustrated by her inability to express what she felt, especially since she didn’t understand most of what was happening. With her back to Tristan, she braced her forearm against the post and leaned out over the railing, watching night fall and the moon ascend. “I’ve known women I would die for, and those same women I’ve never touched, never told a secret to. I’ve made love to women whose names I didn’t know, whose names I didn’t need to know.” She rapped her fist sharply on the post. “Nothing about being here fits, Tristan.”

Tristan rose. “Was there ever a woman to bridge that gap? A woman you knew, a woman you touched?”

“No.” Jett bit out the word, half turning. Tristan was right behind her. So close, so close. “No. There wasn’t. There was only my mistake.”

“Whatever happened, that doesn’t mean things couldn’t be different with someone else.”

“What if I don’t want things to be different?” Jett’s back was to the railing and Tristan was almost against her now. She kept her hands clenched at her sides. “I don’t like complications. I prefer sex to be simple.”

Tristan laughed abruptly and took another step. Jett only wanted what Tristan herself had always been satisfied with. The physical connection had always been enough. It could be enough again. “Hey, I think you know I’ve never been one to disagree with that. So why do you keep running?”

Jett couldn’t answer. Tristan was a breath away, so near Jett could make out flecks of moonlight dancing in her eyes. Her skin shimmered with silver highlights. Jett swore waves of heat swirled and danced around them. She was so beautiful. Still, Jett didn’t touch her, because she didn’t believe her. Someone would get hurt, and she didn’t want it to be Tristan. “Back off, Tristan.”

“No.”

“Tristan,” Jett warned, her voice low and tight.

“Simple.” Tristan began to unbutton her shirt. “We’ll keep it simple. Just the way you like it.”

The white shirt parted, exposing Tristan’s breasts. And just that fast, the distant croak of frogs, the mournful cry of a loon, the wind in the trees—all went completely silent. The stars winked out and the sky overhead became an endless void. The world receded until there was only Tristan, living, breathing, offering Jett a gift more precious than the promise of tomorrow.

“Take it,” Tristan whispered. “Please, Jett. Take it.”

Jett slipped her hands under the edges of the white cotton shirt, sliding her fingertips along Tristan’s collarbones until she gripped Tristan’s shoulders. She turned her suddenly, forcing Tristan’s back against the post, then leaned into her, her mouth against Tristan’s ear.

“Are you sure you know what you’re asking?” Jett pushed a leg between Tristan’s. “Because I’m not going to ask again.”

Tristan dug her fingers into Jett’s ass, forcing Jett’s leg more firmly into the cleft between her thighs. “The answer is yes.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Hold on to the railing behind you,” Jett said, keeping Tristan pinned to the post with both hands on Tristan’s shoulders and one leg between her thighs. She slid her teeth along the edge of Tristan’s jaw, then down the center of her throat. When she reached the hollow between Tristan’s collarbones she sucked the soft skin between her lips and tugged at it with her teeth.

“What?” Tristan muttered, struggling to find her mental balance.

She’d fantasized about Jett doing something just like this so many times that she was halfway to an orgasm already. She swept her hands up and down Jett’s back until Jett pushed her shirt down over her upper arms, tethering them close to her sides.

“If I wanted you to touch me I would have said so.” Jett worked Tristan’s left arm free of her shirt, leaving it dangling from her other arm. “Now grab the railing behind you.”

Tristan could barely think clearly enough to understand Jett’s words. Her body had been constantly stimulated for hours, and she’d been psychologically aroused for days on end. Every nerve in her body was firing erratically, and all she could think about was Jett touching her. But the second Jett did, she was going to lose it. “I need to slow down.”

“No, you don’t.” Jett angled her thigh higher between Tristan’s legs, crushing Tristan’s clitoris against her pubic bone. “I know what you need.”

Tristan groaned, the pressure nearly unbearable. She desperately needed to explode and she couldn’t with her clitoris so compressed.

Mindlessly, she clutched Jett’s hips and tried to push her away. If she could just catch her breath, just get a little control. But she didn’t want to be in control. She thrust down on Jett’s leg, poised on a precipice— her head insisting she take charge, her body screaming for her to let go.

“Please, I need to come and I—”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I couldn’t see what you wanted all afternoon?” Jett jammed her leg higher and tighter, and Tristan cried out, more from surprise than pain. “Did you get yourself off while I wasn’t looking this afternoon?”

“No,” Tristan gasped.

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?” Watching Tristan’s eyes lose focus, watching her slide toward the edge, Jett punctuated each word with a hard thrust of her leg. “Didn’t. You. Tristan.”

“Yes. Yes. Jesus. Yes.”

“Now you’ll come when I say you will.”

Tristan’s head was spinning. Spots danced in front of her eyes.

She was right there. Right there. “Jett, I don’t think I can hold—”

“When I say, Tristan.” Jett grabbed Tristan’s wrists and forced them behind her back. “Your hands. On the rail.”

When Tristan gripped the wooden banister, her fingernails digging into the unpainted surface, Jett lifted her breasts in the palms of her hands and squeezed them together until the nipples almost touched.

Whimpering, Tristan stared down at her stiff nipples as Jett sucked them both into her mouth. Jett’s face in the moonlight was stark and feral.

“Bite them,” Tristan mumbled feverishly. Almost. Almost there.

Jett sucked harder, working them in and out between her lips until Tristan was panting. Then she closed her teeth on one of the blood engorged tips, pinched the other, and tugged.

Tristan jerked and threw her head back, writhing in Jett’s grip.

Her legs trembled wildly and only the weight of Jett’s body kept her upright. She drove her fingers into Jett’s hair, forcing Jett’s mouth harder against her breast. “Please, I can’t take—”

Jett wrenched her face away. “You’ll take it. As long as I want you to take it. Now move your goddamn hand.”

Reaching blindly behind her, Tristan felt the post and wrapped one arm around it. Just as she did, Jett dropped to her knees between Tristan’s legs and ripped open her fly. Tristan braced her legs wide apart and watched as Jett yanked her jeans down to her ankles. Her clitoris, released from the agonizing compression, instantly became fully engorged. The cool air streamed between her legs and teased her fevered flesh, the breeze a tantalizing caress over her erect clitoris. She held her breath, the muscles in her stomach like a board as Jett kissed low on her belly, moving languidly toward the tops of her thighs. Jett’s lips were wet and hot and Tristan couldn’t help thrust her hips. She heard her voice begging, kiss it, please kiss it, please kiss it, over and over, but she wasn’t aware of speaking. She couldn’t make the connection any longer between her mind and her body. All she knew was need.

As if knowing Tristan couldn’t control her muscles any longer, Jett steadied Tristan’s hips against the railing with a hand on her hipbone and kissed her clitoris.

“Oh fuck, Jett.” Tristan lifted her pelvis and Jett sucked her. Watching Jett’s lips move on her, Tristan pushed and pulled in and out of Jett’s mouth. “Here it comes.”

Jett abruptly pressed one hand low on Tristan’s belly and grasped the base of her clitoris between her thumb and finger. She squeezed as hard as she could, preventing the nerves from discharging, blocking Tristan’s orgasm.

“Please,” Tristan whimpered, her belly convulsing futilely. “It hurts.”

“Breathe,” Jett said sharply, easing up with her fingers until Tristan’s clitoris surged outward even harder. Then she sucked the entire length into her mouth.

Tristan felt as if she were turning inside out. Her legs gave way but she didn’t fall. Somehow Jett had braced one shoulder beneath her thigh, keeping her standing. She started babbling. “Coming. Coming. Coming in your mouth.”

Jett squeezed, holding her off again. Tears ran down Tristan’s face and she clutched Jett’s head.

“Please.”

Jett replaced her fingers with her lips, sucking her while she wrapped both arms around Tristan’s hips. She kept up the on-again off again squeezing and sucking until Tristan doubled over.

“Can’t breathe,” Tristan gasped. “Need… need you.”

Jett held her tightly and finished her.

Tristan broke apart as a million volts of white-hot lightning erupted inside her, scorching her mind and soul. On some distant plane she was aware of her body writhing and jerking, of shouting incoherently, of collapsing into wordless sobbing. The last thing she registered was Jett gripping her fiercely in the curve of her body while the cataclysm raged on.